Heather Song (22 page)

“Secretly?”

“Before Olivia herself learned of it, or it was made public.”

“Before
what
was made public? Alicia, you are being very mysterious.”

“Three weeks ago Mr. Crathie was contacted by Alasdair’s solicitor in Edinburgh, a Mr. Murdoch. Apparently it took so long because, aware of the lawsuit pending that Olivia set in motion, he had taken the thing through probate court in private, consulting barristers and judges to make absolutely certain
nothing
could rear its head later. And the way Alasdair did it, signing conflicting documents so close to one another, involved legal complications that he had to make completely sure of before making it known.”

“The way he did
what
 ?…Alicia, please!”

“The prenuptial agreement…Alasdair voided the agreement you and he drew up.”

“What!”

“He signed a later document in Edinburgh. Don’t you remember, just before the wedding when you and I were working on the plans and your dress and everything, you told me he had gone to Edinburgh to see his solicitors.
That’s
what he was doing in Edinburgh. He was taking steps to ensure the continuity of the estate.”

“I can’t believe it could be true. There has to be some mistake.”

“Nigel reviewed it backward and forward and was on the phone for two days with people all over Scotland.”

I sat listening as one in a dream.

“There is no prenup in effect, Marie,” Alicia said. “Alasdair left everything to you after all…the castle, the management and administration of the entire estate, everything. You are
still
the Duchess of Buchan.”

The smile on her face was too precious.

“There
must
be some mistake,” I repeated.

“Maybe Alasdair foresaw what would happen,” said Alicia. “I don’t know, but Nigel has already been to Edinburgh to meet with Alasdair’s other solicitors personally. He says it is legal and binding. The prenup is null and void. That’s when he asked me—Nigel, I mean—he asked if I would come tell you in person, and implore you to return—for the good of the estate, the community, everyone.”

I sat stunned.

“Just when I thought my life was beginning to simplify…I never wanted to be anything but Alasdair’s wife.”

“That’s what he wanted you to be, too,” said Alicia. “And in
every
way, with
all
that entailed.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Maybe Alasdair recognized what your being his
wife
actually meant more fully than you did.”

Alicia’s words sobered me. It was something I had never considered. Perhaps I had never recognized the full implications of what
wife
meant. Maybe it was Alasdair who had seen more deeply into the larger scope of what our marriage signified than I had.

“Marie, you are the Duchess of Buchan, whether you like it or not,” said Alicia.

We sat silent a long time.

“And Olivia?” I said at length.

“As yet, Olivia knows nothing of it.”

N
eedless to say, Alicia’s surprise visit and stunning news threw me into a tailspin of renewed uncertainty.

She slept twelve hours that night. I slept about two! My mind was racing. I still did not believe it could
really
be true. But I had no choice other than to return to Port Scarnose until the thing was resolved. True or not, I was at the center of it. Many people, the whole community, the future of Alasdair’s estate…much depended on a resolution. I had to do my part to help in that process. I still cared nothing for the title or the property. But I cared very much for Alasdair’s legacy, and that his desires for the good of the community were carried out. I might not fight on my own behalf, but I would fight for Alasdair.

The uncertainty of my immediate future had been decided for me. As is often the case, God used circumstances to point the way.

I notified Mr. Jones of the developments. I told him I would be in touch with him from Scotland if matters came up in connection with the sale of my father’s house or whatever else might require my signature. Where I would be in Scotland was anyone’s guess, but I told him I would let him know. I warned him not to contact me by regular mail. He wished me luck.

Alicia and I flew into Aberdeen a week later. She had just managed to get over her jet lag from the one flight before returning over the Atlantic again. This time, however, she was keyed up and excited, and the flight went by quickly. In her mind the mere fact that I was on my way back would take care of everything.

In my own mind, I wasn’t so sure. I had agreed to return because it seemed the right thing to do. But the next step
after
that remained cloudy in my mind.

It was during the plane flight back to Aberdeen that my resolve clarified about what I was to do. My heart and mind were so full of my father. He had become completely changed in my thoughts, though it was really
I
who had done the changing. Everything was different now. I was a
daughter
in a way I had never been before. I was the
proud
daughter of Richard Buchan, a good and honored man of integrity and principle and courage. For the first time in my life, I wanted to make my father proud. And I had come to realize how much like my father I really was. I had inherited more of that old sixties’ fire from him than I ever knew. I
had
to fight for truth, for justice, for right…because that’s what he would have done.

All the way back to Scotland, though I suppose I should have been asking myself what God wanted me to do, what I was actually asking myself was, “What would Alasdair and my father want me to do?” Yet sometimes such questions help toward discovering what God wants, too.

What finally sealed my decision, strangely enough, was an article in one of the airline magazines about Sidney Poitier. In speaking of his devotion to his father, I saw a powerful truth, and I realized that I felt exactly as he did. “My father was a certain kind of man,” he said. “I saw how he treated my mother and his family and how he treated strangers. And I vowed I would never make a film that would not reflect dignity and honor on my father’s character and name.”

What an incredible thing for a successful man to say. In spite of all he had accomplished, his father’s character was ever before him as a guiding principle for his own conduct. Even as I read his words, I made the same vow to myself, and to God. From that point on in my life, as far as I was aware of and to the best of my ability, I would try to do and say nothing but what would reflect dignity and honor on the character and name of
both
my fathers—Richard Buchan, my
earthly
father; and the Creator and God of the universe, the Father of Jesus Christ, my
heavenly
Father.

In keeping with that, I would fight for truth on behalf of the villagers of Port Scarnose and Crannoch, and for the legacy of Alasdair Reidhaven, Duke of Buchan.

We had been in touch with Mr. Crathie by phone. He was at the airport to meet us.

He and I shook hands. The look that passed between him and Alicia as they met confirmed my suspicions. Something was definitely brewing between them!

“I think it best, Mrs. Reidhaven,” said Mr. Crathie as he turned his car out of the precincts of the airport and started along the A96, “that you do not stay in Port Scarnose or Crannoch at first. For you to be seen would tip our hand. I have taken the liberty of booking you into a very nice bed-and-breakfast in Elgin.”

“I am still bewildered by everything,” I said. “Surely there must be some logical explanation to all this other than…”

My voice trailed away. I still had a difficult time putting into words everything Alicia had told me.

“I’m afraid the only explanation,” the lawyer replied, “is that the duke feared what his sister might do and wanted you to inherit in spite of your objections. I admit that it is difficult to understand in light of what almost appears his deception to both of us in signing what he knew to be, or knew would soon become, a spurious document—one that would be certain to cast clouds of debate and doubt over his affairs. It is this aspect of the thing that has troubled me from the moment I learned of the Edinburgh affidavit, and which is sure to be analyzed up, down, and sideways in court if Mrs. Urquhart’s suit goes forward. Your late husband’s mental state will almost surely be called into question, and that likelihood, I must confess, troubles me. However, I can only assume that the duke felt his actions with the two documents would lead to a greater good, and that he was thus justified in signing what amounted to a false prenuptial agreement. But so that everything will be clarified in your mind—as you are obviously now the key player in all this—I have arranged for Mr. Murdoch to meet with us in three days, at my office in Elgin. He will explain everything to you. At that time we will attempt to decide upon a strategy for proceeding in the most efficacious manner to meet the legal complications that the duke’s sister has thrown at us all.”

“What will you do, Alicia?” I asked.

“Return to Tavia’s and pretend nothing is going on,” she answered.

“That may be a little problematic,” interjected Mr. Crathie. “You gave her my number, I take it?”

“With my being gone, I thought she should be able to contact you…just in case?” replied Alicia.

“And she did,” rejoined Mr. Crathie. “She telephoned me three days ago. Apparently Mrs. Urquhart has been asking about you. Her suspicions have been raised. The other lady—what’s her name?”

“Adela…Adela Cruickshank?”

“Right—Cruickshank…She has been questioning everyone in town about your whereabouts, asking if anyone has seen you or knows where you have gone. Rumors have apparently begun to fly. We have to think through our movements very carefully.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Crathie?” I asked.

“We have to get you into the castle before she gets wind of it and is able to secure a restraining order against you. That’s why I don’t want to arouse her suspicions.”

“But how? Alicia said she has locked the castle up tight—with new locks and gates and everything.”

“She has done precisely that. Whether she is on firm legal footing is debatable, but the fact is, she has made the castle and grounds almost impregnable. You cannot simply show up at the front gate. She would deny you entry and be on the phone to her solicitors the next minute, with an injunction against you drawn up within the hour. It might not prove legal in the long run, but she could continue, in a sense, to hold the entirety of the duke’s estate hostage for the duration of a court battle, and remain in possession of the castle all that time. I would not be surprised to see her use every tactic she can to delay things and keep everything tied up as long as possible.”

“I simply can’t understand how she could get away with it.”

“She has a legal case that can be made. In the hands of the right barrister, I fear that case could be made quite persuasively. It would be argued that you were a continent away having publicly disavowed any interest in or claim to your husband’s property. She is the legal next of kin. She simply acted on what facts she possessed, assuming herself now the duchess, and, acting in good faith, moved back to her childhood home and the seat of the Buchan estate. That will be her claim.”

“How would, as you say, getting me into the castle, help with all that?” I asked.

“Once you were both, as it were, on the premises and tacitly in
possession
of the castle, a final resolution would necessarily rest with the courts. As long as it could be demonstrated that you, too, were acting on good faith and with legal grounds—which obviously you now have in the form of the Edinburgh affidavit and my having informed you that you
are
in fact the duchess and heir—no move would be made to forcibly have you removed. She could
prevent
your entry. But once you are both there, with equally justified legal claims, it would remain as a stalemate until a resolution comes in court.”

“I think I understand, but it sounds rather obscure and uncertain.”

“That is not an incorrect assessment. Without putting too fine a point on it, what it boils down to is the old adage about possession being nine-tenths of the law. Of course in the final analysis that will mean nothing. But for the present, it may be significant. We are, I’m afraid, in a rather tenuous position. But we will talk everything over with Mr. Murdoch.”

“What should I do, Nigel?” asked Alicia.

Mr. Crathie was silent a moment.

“Didn’t you say you had a sister somewhere in the south?”

“Yes, in Glasgow.”

“Why don’t we drive into Elgin and we’ll put you up there, too, for the night so that you have a good night’s rest. Tonight we will have you telephone someone in Port Scarnose. We’ll use my mobile. We’ll have you call someone who will be certain to spread it about. You’ll say that you have been unable to reach—what’s the lady’s name you’re staying with?”

“Tavia Maccallum.”

“Right…You’ve been unable to get through, but would they mind popping over to her place to tell her that you’ll be home from your sister’s tomorrow.”

“You could call Mrs. Gauld,” I suggested. “Whose side is she on?”

“You know her,” replied Alicia. “She always tries to play both sides. She’s still friendly to me, but I know she listens to every morsel of gossip she can pick up, and passes most of it on to Adela and Olivia.”

“Whoever you notify,” said Mr. Crathie, “be vague and just tell them that you’re coming in on the Bluebird. Then simply take the bus into Port Scarnose as if nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Adela and Olivia will be suspicious that Tavia said nothing about it before.”

“Let them stew all they want. You will be back. There will be nothing for them to conclude other than that you were gone for a week. Mrs. Reidhaven will never enter into the thing. Then go about your life as usual.”