The Fairbairn Girls (2 page)

‘Reply politely but don’t worry. Grown-ups find girls of our age boring. I bet they make a direct line for Freddie.’

‘Why Freddie? He
is
boring.’

Beattie giggled. ‘The Garunnocks have a daughter, Imogen. She’s nine years old.’

Diana looked confused. ‘But why . . .?’

‘If she married Freddie she’d become Viscountess Fairbairn, and then one day when Papa dies she’d be the next Countess of Rothbury and live here.’

‘But Freddie and Imogen are still children,’ Diana protested.

Beattie smiled. ‘That’s the way it works, Di. Laura was lucky to meet Rory but I bet Ma already had someone in mind for her. Look how they’ve been cultivating James Fraser for years; he’s just the right age for Lizzie.’

Diana’s pale skin flushed pink. ‘Well, I certainly hope they haven’t got anyone lined up for me! When I’m older I intend to fall in love naturally.’

‘What if they lined up one of the Queen’s grandsons for you?’ Beattie teased. ‘Prince Albert, perhaps?’

‘They
all
seem to be called Albert,’ Diana grumbled.

At that moment Eleanor, the most timid of the Fairbairn girls, came up to them. She was small for eleven, and mousey-looking, unlike all the others, who were tall and distinguished with rich dark hair and cream skin.

‘What are we supposed to
do
?’ she asked, glancing nervously around as the room filled up with more and more guests.

Her father, overhearing her, spun round and glared down at her angrily. ‘What do you think you’re supposed to do?’ he thundered. ‘Swing from the chandeliers? Stand on the piano and do a jig? That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.’

Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears and she tried to hide behind Beattie.

‘She’s shy, Papa,’ Beattie protested, taking Eleanor’s hand. ‘Come along, sweetheart. There are some lovely cakes in the dining room.’ Beattie led her gently away.

Frowning with irritation, Lord Rothbury watched them leave the room, and then he suddenly smiled and his cold grey eyes warmed with affection as his Labrador ambled lazily towards him. Bending down, he stroked her smooth black head. ‘Come, Megan,’ he whispered softly. ‘You don’t like this circus any more than I do. Never mind – we’ll go for a run as soon as I can get out of here.’

‘William!’ Exasperated, his wife hurried over. ‘It’s a pity you don’t treat your family and friends with the same fondness you lavish on your blessed dogs,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘For heaven’s sake help me to welcome the guests. This is Laura’s day and it’s the least you can do.’

He shrugged. ‘Damned waste of time and money if you ask me. It’s not their wedding reception.’ He glanced balefully around the now crowded room.

‘Please try to look pleasant and welcoming, William. It isn’t much to ask.’ Aware at that moment of more arrivals, she turned swiftly with a beaming smile. ‘Ah, my dear Lady Northope, how delightful to see you again. It’s so nice of you to join us to celebrate Laura’s engagement.’

For the next two hours Lady Rothbury continued to smile gallantly and greet new guests gushingly before working her way skilfully around the rooms to make sure that Lizzie, Georgie, Beattie and Diana were introduced to everyone, and most especially those who had eligible sons. With eight more daughters to get off her hands she reckoned one couldn’t start soon enough to cultivate the right people.

Meanwhile, Lord Rothbury had decided he’d had enough. Making polite conversation to a bunch of people he had no interest in was for him like having to endure a form of torture. He signalled to the butler. ‘McEwan, get Meads to saddle Megara for me and bring her round to the front.’

‘Right now, M’Lord?’ he asked, astonished.

‘Well, obviously not tomorrow! Of course I want to ride now. And tell someone to let the dogs out of the kennels. I don’t see why they should have their afternoon ruined by a bunch of damned socialites.’

‘Very well, M’Lord.’ McEwan had worked long enough for the Rothburys to know that one didn’t cross the master.

By the time his favourite chestnut mare had been brought round, Lord Rothbury was waiting impatiently in the drive, dressed in his riding clothes and with his beloved Megan by his side.

‘Where are the others?’ he demanded. At that moment a river of brown, black, white and grey fur belted through a gate that had been opened, and twelve dogs of various breeds and sizes were tearing around, barking and leaping about with excitement as they realized they were going out with their master.

‘All right! All right! Let’s get going.’ His bad mood had vanished and his ruddy face was wreathed in smiles. Mounting easily in spite of his weight, he set off in the direction of the wild beauty of Beinn Larachan with the dogs racing ahead. Megara pricked up her ears and broke into a smooth three-beat canter. The rain clouds had parted and the sun was shining on the freshly showered mountainside. At that moment a golden eagle swooped and dipped then rose again, its wings spread wide in glorious freedom.

This was William Rothbury’s world and it was all he wanted.

Rory put his arm around Laura’s slim waist and led her into the garden, where the sun was now setting behind the distant blue hills.

The last of the guests had drifted away and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the breeze that swept across the Loch. Laura shivered, suddenly feeling cold. This magical summer of falling in love with Rory was nearly over and a bleak, melancholy winter beckoned. With a pang she realized the happiest summer of her life was coming to an end and, as she looked down at her diamond and sapphire engagement ring, she felt for a moment like weeping.

‘Peace at last!’ Rory remarked lightly ‘Shall we go for a little walk?’

‘Could it be that you’d like to be alone with me?’ Laura asked, her eyes over-bright and her voice trying to strike a cheerful note.

His expression softened as he pulled her closer. ‘Laura, this is agony. Do we really have to wait another year before we can get married?’

‘I’m afraid we do, my love.’ She reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘Mama made it a condition of our getting engaged now.’

‘I don’t know how I’m going to get through twelve months without you.’

‘I’ll write to you, often,’ she promised.

‘Nothing’s going to change between us, is it?’ He looked wistfully into her hazel eyes.

Laura reached for his hand and held it between her own. ‘Rory, a century apart wouldn’t change anything between us. I love you so much and I’m longing to become your wife. You do believe me, don’t you? I wish today had been our wedding day.’

He pulled her close with sudden passion and spoke as if in pain. ‘I wish to God it was.’

Laura rested her cheek against his. ‘Tell me about the life we’ll have when we’re married,’ she whispered. ‘I love to hear you tell me what we’ll do.’

Rory smiled. ‘We’ll wake up in the morning and smell the roses that grow beneath our bedroom window. When it’s fine we’ll have breakfast on the terrace and then maybe we’ll go for a walk in the orchard and pick some apples and dark juicy cherries. In the winter we’ll sit by a log fire and I’ll read to you
.
“
Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories
of the death of kings
. . .” and then I’ll lead the way up to our four-poster bed as the moon rises above the sea.’ He broke off, unable to continue, his face buried in her dark hair.

‘I’m not too sure about dead kings, though.’ Irresistible laughter bubbled up in her throat. ‘I never did much care for
Richard II
.’

Rory burst out laughing, the sudden sexual tension between them broken. ‘Perhaps I should have gone for
Romeo and Juliet
?’

‘Too sad.’

‘What about
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
?’

‘Too whimsical.’

Rory looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘
The Taming of the Shrew
?’

‘Don’t get ideas above your station!’ she shot back with a wicked smile.

They were laughing so much they clung to each other for support, but then the laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started. Laura’s eyes were filled with tears and her voice was thin and pained.

‘I wish you didn’t have to return to Sussex tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, my darling. I’m working on several litigation cases at the moment and the senior partner has been very understanding about my coming up here to see you as often as I do. If we both keep busy the time will fly. Before you know it we’ll be married.’

Laura flung her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, it’s going to be so wonderful! Being married and having a home of our own!’

‘And a family too, in time,’ he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

A piercing dart of desire shot through her, leaving her weak and her heart hammering
. I want him now
, she thought as she leaned heavily against him.

Rory wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her neck. ‘My darling girl,’ he whispered, ‘I want us to be together as much as you do.’

Rory left at dawn the next day and Laura and some of her sisters stood on the castle steps, waving him off in a horse-drawn brougham.

‘When will he get to his home?’ Diana asked, waving her white handkerchief energetically.

‘Late tomorrow.’ Laura quickly wiped away a tear. Their mother had instilled in them that it was bad to break down in front of the servants because it would embarrass them.

Little Eleanor frowned anxiously. ‘Won’t the horses get tired?’

‘Don’t be such a goose,’ Georgie remonstrated robustly. ‘He’s going on the new train from Glasgow to London.’

‘But won’t the horses get tired before they reach Glasgow? It’s
miles
away.’

‘They’ll probably change the horses when they reach Fort William or Rannoch.’

Eleanor’s mouth drooped. ‘But what will happen to the tired horses?’ she persisted. Eleanor worried about everything but most especially the welfare of animals.

‘They’ll sleep in nice warm stables,’ Beattie assured her, taking her hand. ‘And they’ll be fed and watered.’

‘And someone will tuck them up and read them a bedtime story,’ Georgie cut in with acerbity.

Laura gave her a disapproving glance. ‘Don’t be so mean. Eleanor is sensitive and very caring. Unlike you.’

‘She’s a wimp!’ Georgie declared. ‘She needs toughening up.’

Eleanor shrank inside her cotton shift, miserable at being picked on and the centre of attention.

Beattie, always the calm peacemaker, led the way back into the castle. ‘Let’s have breakfast,’ she suggested brightly.

‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ Laura said, hurrying away across the great hall. Up on the first floor she flew along the wide corridor with its family portraits and heavy Jacobean furniture smelling of beeswax polish until she came to the guest wing. A moment later she entered the room where Rory had slept for the past few nights. It was just as he had left it, with the bedding pushed back and the pillow indented where his head had rested.

Lying down where he had lain and slipping her hand under the bedding which was still faintly warm, she caught a whiff of the sweet, clean smell of his skin. Breathing deeply, she sidled further down the bed, pulling the blankets up over herself while imagining him lying beside her. Then she closed her eyes and a deep wave of longing washed over her. His warmth and his scent was making her feel dizzy and she wished with all her heart that he was lying beside her now. Desire flowed through her like a heavy ache and she felt intoxicated by the thought of their love-making one day. But how was she going to bear the long wait before it was so?

Alone in her own bed that night, she recalled the first time she’d met Rory, when he’d been brought to Lochlee by friends of her mother, who were interested in buying a nearby property. He was their lawyer and a trustee of a fortune they’d recently inherited, and the moment Laura saw him she’d realized there was something special about him. It was as if she already knew him, and he’d felt the same. That first meeting had been overshadowed by the business in hand, but then he’d written to her – this handsome, dynamic man who was ten years older than her. She still had the letter. And this time next year they would be man and wife. She could hardly wait.

Downstairs in the breakfast room Lord Rothbury was chucking scraps of ham from his plate on to the floor as he laughed at the way the Highland terriers and poodles were quicker and more efficient at nabbing the titbits in mid-air than the Great Danes and Labradors who blundered clumsily around. Meanwhile, the basset hounds sat watching morosely, unable to compete in the chaos.

‘Here, Megan. Here, girl,’ he whispered softly. He fed her a special bit of ham and then stroked her as gently as if she’d been a human baby. Dark liquid eyes filled with devotion gazed back at him. His wife had never looked at him like that in the nineteen years they’d been married, he reflected sourly. Megan didn’t rattle on about money or domestic issues either.

Lady Rothbury, sitting at the other end of the table, had long since learned to ignore what she considered to be her husband’s deplorable table manners and his insistence that all the dogs should be free to roam around indoors during the day. When she’d first had a baby she’d been shocked and hurt at his cavalier manner towards her whilst he’d hovered nervously nearby over one of his bitches who was whelping at the same time. He’d summoned the vet although there was no need, yet had asked her crossly if she really needed Doctor Doughty to attend her as well as the midwife?

Then, when Lizzie was born he said, ‘A girl is it? Huh!’ and walked out of the room, but when the puppies arrived he joyously announced the news to all and sundry and ordered that all the workers on the estate be given a pint of ale. Then he’d gone out shooting with the ghillie.

Something died in Margaret Rothbury’s heart then and, as the years passed and their family grew in size, sometimes she wondered if it was her fault that she’d produced nine girls and only two boys? On the other hand, she figured it might be God punishing William for no longer caring for her, although at the beginning he’d sworn passionately that she was his love and his life.