The Fairbairn Girls (18 page)

He managed to separate them with the help of another footman, but Douglas had to be held back to prevent him charging at Henry again.

‘Get him out of here,’ Henry raged. ‘The man’s an imposter and he should never have been allowed in.’

Lady Rothbury had risen imperiously to her feet. Her eyes flashed with fury and she spoke harshly. ‘My husband told me everything about you, Douglas Kirkbride, because that is who you really are. Before he died he warned me about you. Your mother was the village trollop, Dolly Kirkbride, who seduced him one night when he was drunk. He gave her money to move away when you were born but he carried the shame of what he’d done to the end of his life. My husband also told me you kept coming on to our land, threatening him unless he made you his legal heir, and when he finally thought he’d got rid of you for ever,’ she paused, shaking now with extraordinary passion, ‘you came back in the dead of night and cursed us all by the Rowan tree. My daughter Eleanor lost her life trying to undo that curse. You’re rotten to the core, Douglas Kirkbride, and you’re no doubt satisfied that the curse haunts us still and there have been a series of tragedies in the family. Let me tell you something: I hope you rot in hell and eternal damnation for the havoc you have wreaked on the Fairbairn family. Now throw him out or we’ll set the dogs on you.’

‘The police are here, M’Lady,’ McEwan replied.

Henry tucked his dirk back into his sock. ‘Good. Show them in.’

Then he turned with a look of disgust at Kirkbride. ‘I’ll make sure you’re charged with trespass and intent to cause a disturbance, and if you ever come here again you’ll have me to answer to,’ he added hotly.

Kirkbride looked evenly at Henry, his shifty dark eyes glittering with malice. ‘I swear you’ll never become the next Earl of Rothbury.’

A cold shiver ran through those in the room and Henry turned pale. ‘Neither will you,’ he retorted.

A moment later Diana came rushing in, looking flustered. ‘What’s happening? We’ve got to have the speeches now. Everyone is waiting.’

‘Yes. We’ll all come now.’ It was obvious Lady Rothbury was deeply shaken.

Diana hurried off and her mother turned to the others. ‘As far as your younger sisters and the guests are concerned, that creature was a drunken lunatic. He didn’t know what he was saying. Do you understand? Not a word of what you heard just now must ever be repeated.’

They all nodded, taken aback by her commanding manner and the incredible strength she’d shown in dealing with what had just happened. It was the first time they’d ever seen her like this; a lioness protecting her cubs. And the reputation of the family.

Diana and Robert had left in a flurry of rose petals and cheering guests as they set off in an open carriage drawn by two grey horses who had garlands of flowers hung round their necks.

‘What a splendid wedding, my dear Margaret,’ the Duke of Argyll told Lady Rothbury as he took his leave. Everyone was brimming with enthusiasm and champagne as they waved to the young couple who were going to Paris for their honeymoon.

‘Imagine, Paris!’ said Georgie enviously. ‘I’d give my right arm to go to Paris.’

Laura, standing on the front steps of the castle, was scanning the crowds for a final look at Walter Leighton-Harvey. Then she caught sight of him, head and shoulders above the melee, talking to another couple, his wife by his side. He was laughing good-humouredly and Laura felt a pang of sadness that it was not her who stood beside him at this moment. If only he wasn’t married, she reflected regretfully. As if he was aware of her gaze, he suddenly turned and, seeing her, raised his top hat and waved it. She waved back and smiled, and he smiled too. Then his wife tugged his arm as if she wanted to leave and, almost reluctantly, he gave Laura a little nod before replacing his hat and turning away.

Feeling suddenly deflated, Laura turned and went back into the castle where the servants were frantically clearing up and trying to restore the pristine tidiness of the reception rooms in readiness for a dinner party that night.

Beattie came up behind her and slid her arm around Laura’s waist. ‘Wasn’t Di’s dress a triumph! Everyone was saying how gifted and clever you are. Are you pleased with the way it all went? Our dresses are beautiful, too. I’m longing for another occasion to wear mine.’

‘Thank you, Beattie.’ Laura led the way up to her bedroom. ‘Yes, I think it all went very well and Di certainly looked beautiful, but it’s been one of the strangest days of my life.’

‘How so? Because of that strange man gatecrashing the reception? What was that about? Someone asked me if Freddie had returned.’

‘Come into my room and I’ll tell you,’ Laura replied in a low voice. ‘Mama made us promise not to tell the young ones.’

Beattie’s eyes widened. ‘What is it?’

Laura told her about Douglas Kirkbride being Papa’s illegitimate son. ‘He was apparently born three months before Freddie,’ she added grimly.

Beattie looked shocked. ‘Then Papa must have . . . you know . . .
after
he was married to Mama?’

Laura nodded. ‘Six years after he married Mama.’

Beattie gave a little snort of disgust. ‘What’s the matter with men? And Mama knew about it?’

‘Apparently Papa told her just before he died. You know what this means, don’t you?’

‘In what way?’

‘Remember how we heard Papa yelling at a man to stay away from us? Papa seemed in a state and then Eleanor heard a man cursing us by the Rowan tree one night?’

Beattie gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Of course. That explains everything. And Eleanor thought she could . . .’ she began and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, this is terrible.’

‘Now I think Papa may have had reason to say we were all cursed.’

‘What a dreadful thing to say, Laura.’ Beattie looked near to tears. ‘You can’t really believe that, surely?’

‘Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t,’ Laura replied with honesty. ‘I don’t want to believe it; Mama used to tell us only uneducated people were superstitious and all that nonsense was just an old wives’ tale, but you have to admit that everything has gone wrong since this man laid a curse on us. I believe Mama thinks so too, now.’

‘Who knows about this man beside you?’

‘Only Henry and Lizzie.’

Beattie sighed. ‘You certainly have had a strange day.’

‘I also fell in love,’ Laura said in a small voice.

Beattie’s face lit up and she clapped her hands with delight. ‘Oh, Laura. How wonderful. Who is he?’

‘Don’t get excited,’ Laura warned in a dry voice. ‘He is absolutely perfect but he’s a married man.’

Her sister’s face fell. ‘What a shame! Oh, what bad luck! Never mind – you’ll meet someone one day who will be just right for you. You mustn’t give up.’

Laura rose and went over to her hanging cupboard. ‘I can’t decide what to wear for dinner tonight.’

Her eye caught a midnight-blue chiffon dress she’d made which was very becoming. If Walter Leighton-Harvey had been single and dining with them it was the dress she’d have chosen. ‘I’ll wear this,’ she announced, taking a pale pink dress from the cupboard. ‘It’s a bit insipid, but who cares?’

That evening Lady Rothbury hosted a large dinner party for people who had travelled from afar to attend the wedding. Beattie looked delighted when she discovered her mother had placed her next to a good-looking man in his early thirties whom she had never met before.

His
placement
card said his name was Andrew Drinkwater.

‘I’m afraid I’m a poor substitute for my brother-in-law,’ he told Beattie self-deprecatingly after he’d introduced himself. ‘I’m here to escort my sister, Amelia Watson-Brown, as her husband was unfortunately detained in London. He’s a barrister and is now a member of parliament. He’s a jolly clever chap. I’m just a rather boring business man.’ He added, grinning, ‘And I’m sorry you’ve been done out of a fascinating man to talk to.’

‘I’m sure you’re just as clever as him,’ Beattie quipped flirtatiously. ‘Where are you and your sister staying?’

‘We’re at the Craigan Hotel, not far from here.’ He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘I must say it was most awfully kind of your mother to invite us tonight as well as to your sister and Robert’s wedding this afternoon. We were bracing ourselves for a dinner of Haggis with Neeps and Tatties.’

Beattie burst out laughing. ‘Sorry to disappoint you! Actually we are having mashed swedes and potatoes tonight but with beef instead of Haggis, which I must tell you is absolutely delicious. I love it.’

‘What exactly is Haggis made of?’ he murmured cautiously.

Beattie’s eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘Take a sheep’s stomach,’ she began, but seeing his expression she took pity on him. ‘No, I’ll tell you another time. I wouldn’t want to ruin your dinner tonight.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘Where is your business?’

‘In London, I’m afraid,’ he replied almost apologetically, ‘but I go to my place in Kent at the weekends, which isn’t so bad.’

Beattie didn’t think it was bad at all. She hung on to his every word throughout dinner as he talked about his Elizabethan manor house with a knot garden, and his horses and dogs and the housekeeper he’d inherited from his late parents, who ran the house for him. Beattie’s brain spun with expectation like an awestruck fifteen-year-old as this charming thirty-three-year-old bachelor poured out his heart to her. It was obvious he was equally enchanted, because when the men joined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner he made straight for Beattie with the determination of a homing pigeon.

Lizzie and Laura watched this budding relationship with amusement but Georgie sat glowering, eyes smouldering, her mouth grim. No one had been even vaguely struck by her at the reception or at this dinner party, which she thought was boring anyway because all the guests seemed so old.

When the evening came to an end, Andrew Drinkwater and his sister bade Lady Rothbury goodbye, and he turned to Beattie, saying, ‘I won’t forget to send you that book on India.’

‘Thank you, that’s so kind,’ she gushed, gazing up at him as they shook hands.

‘
India?
’ Laura giggled incredulously when they’d left. ‘Beattie, when did you ever have the remotest interest in India?’

Beattie flushed with annoyance. ‘Have you forgotten our great-grandfather on Mama’s side was
chargé d’affaires
at the British Embassy in Lucknow during the Indian Mutiny?’ Then she turned and stalked off across the great hall and up the stairs to her room.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Georgie asked.

‘Can’t you tell?’ Laura laughed. ‘She’s just fallen in love.’

The book on India wasn’t the only thing Andrew sent Beattie. In the weeks that followed there were letters, a sepia photograph of his country house, other books she might find interesting and finally an invitation from his sister to stay with her and her husband for a week in June at their Belgrave Square house.

There are several balls that week
, Amelia Watson-Brown wrote to Lady Rothbury,
and of course I will chaperone Beatrice at all times, and if you are agreeable my brother, who stays at his club when in London, would be very happy to escort her to these parties.

Beattie was ecstatic. The thought of going to grand balls in London during the height of the season had been beyond her wildest dreams.

Laura was commanded to make her at least two new evening dresses and Lady Rothbury lent her a lace fan, several pairs of long white kid gloves and a velvet evening cloak lined with ermine.

‘I wish I had some nice jewels,’ Beattie remarked sadly.

‘Unmarried girls shouldn’t wear jewellery as such,’ Lady Rothbury advised reprovingly. ‘One day your husband will buy you jewels but for now it would be most inappropriate.’

‘I bet you she’ll be engaged to Andrew by the time the week’s over,’ Laura observed as Beattie left for the station in a horse-drawn carriage with her trunk strapped to the roof. ‘They’re a perfect match.’

‘I think we can safely say it’s a certainty,’ Lady Rothbury replied gleefully.

‘Three down and another five to go,’ Lady Rothbury privately reflected when Beattie’s engagement was announced the following month. She wasn’t worried about Alice, Flora or Catriona; they were still very young, but she was concerned about Laura and Georgie. Especially Georgie. She didn’t make the best of herself and she didn’t try hard enough to please or attract anyone.

Beattie’s wedding was to take place in September, when the Oban Gathering took place with its Highland Games and parties every night leading up to the Oban Ball, which was a grand affair. Everyone who was anyone would be in Argyllshire then.

Lady Rothbury began making her meticulous plans, as she’d done for Diana and Lizzie’s weddings, which had now become a blueprint for all future family nuptials, and she was happily thinking about the choice of flowers for the church when Henry came into the room.

His mother looked up at him affectionately. ‘Are you ready to give another of your sisters away?’ she asked half-jokingly.

Henry looked at her seriously. ‘I shan’t be here for Beattie’s wedding, Mama.’

‘What do you mean you won’t be here? Of course you’ll be here. You don’t go to Edinburgh University until the end of September.’

He looked her straight in the eye. ‘By September I’ll be in South Africa, Mama.’

Her heart skipped a beat and then plunged sickeningly. ‘South Africa?’ she faltered, knowing what that meant because there’d been a lot about it in the newspapers.

‘Yes. I’ve just joined up. I’m off to fight the Boers.’

‘Who
is
going to give Beattie away?’ Lady Rothbury wept, knowing that wasn’t the reason for her tears but too frightened to even contemplate the real cause. She couldn’t bear to think of her beautiful boy being on the battlefield, facing the terrible dangers of musket wounds and cannon fire.

‘Has he joined up as a regular soldier?’ Georgie asked in astonishment.

‘Yes. He’s joined the Household Cavalry; he always did like riding. How I wish he’d discussed it with me first instead of rushing off in such an impulsive way.’