The House of Lyall (41 page)

‘You can't leave me in the dark now,' he said sharply. ‘If she's not the Mowatts' child, whose child is she?'

Unable to look him in the eye, she muttered, very quickly so as to get it over with, ‘She's Duncan Peat's child, the baby everybody thought had died with Grace, but Robert gave her to Flora because she had just lost theirs, and nobody was any the wiser.'

Looking mystified, Hamish stroked his chin. ‘But Grace and Duncan were both decent people, too, so why …?'

Seeing remembrance dawning darkly in his eyes, Marianne whispered, ‘Now do you understand?'

Aware that the memory of the minister's attack on her had upset him again, Marianne let the matter drop. He would likely recall how the man had taken his life in Hill-side Mental Hospital and proved himself to be insane. Surely Hamish couldn't think Melda was a suitable wife for Ruairidh now?

Chapter Twenty-two

Melda could not fathom Lady Glendarril's logic. She would have thought that she would want to keep her maid-cum-companion rather than have her leave after less than a year, but it wouldn't make the slightest difference to the decision she herself had made. She was
not
going to begin a medical degree course even if her employer had promised to finance her throughout her years of study, not now that Ruairidh was coming home. If he had stopped loving her and didn't want to marry her, she might consider a career, but otherwise, no.

There had been an air of excited expectancy in the castle, in the whole glen, since word got out that the 8th Battalion of the Royal Scots Fusiliers was being relieved of its peace-keeping duties on the Black Sea, where it had been posted from the Rhineland some months after the armistice, and the men should be home within the next week or two. Melda lingered over the thought of seeing Ruairidh so soon, her happiness so intense that her heart ached.

She wished she knew exactly when he would arrive – she wanted to look her best for him – but he'd likely be so glad to see her again he wouldn't care how she looked. A softly ecstatic sigh escaped her as she pictured how he would sweep her into his arms and kiss her in full view of whoever else was there … even his mother? She wasn't too sure
about that, but surely to goodness, when Lady Glendarril saw how much they loved each other, she would understand why her personal maid had turned down ‘the chance of a lifetime', as she had called it, but it wasn't that as far as
she
was concerned, Melda told herself. The only ‘chance of a lifetime' she wanted was to become Ruairidh's wife.

A soft tap at the door of her room at the castle made her sit up. ‘Yes?'

‘Her Ladyship wants you.'

‘Thanks, Ruby. I'll be right down.'

Her heart had speeded up almost out of control. The only reason she'd be summoned at this time in an evening would be if Ruairidh had arrived, so she took a hasty glance in the mirror to make sure that her hair was tidy before running downstairs. She knocked on the drawing-room door as she always did and waited until she was asked to come in, but her spirits sank as her eyes swept the room and found only Lady Marianne there, grim and clearly uneasy.

‘M'Lady?'

‘Sit down, Melda. I do not relish what I am about to do, but do it I must. You have refused the opportunity I gave you – thrown my goodwill back in my face – so … I will have to ask you to leave.'

‘Leave?'

‘I admit I have no fault to find with the way you carried out your duties, but there are other things to consider. My son will be here shortly, and bearing in mind what happened last time he was home, I think it would be best if you were not in the house to lead him into temptation again.'

Melda was outraged at this. ‘Oh, m'Lady, that's a horrible thing to say. I told you before, I didn't lead him –'

‘Perhaps you didn't, but the temptation will always be there, and will magnify if he sees you every day.'

‘But he's going to marry me.'

A peculiar sound, almost a sneering snort, escaped Marianne. ‘You cannot for one moment imagine that I will let my son marry the daughter of a madman?'

Melda gasped. ‘How dare you say that? My father is a doctor, a well-liked member of this community. It's you that's mad!'

‘Robert Mowatt is not …' Marianne hesitated, bracing herself before going on, ‘Your father was minister in the glen at one time. He was never a stable man, too easily aroused … in more ways than one, and when his wife died giving birth to you it was enough to tip him over the edge into insanity. I had been away and didn't hear about your mother's death until I came back, and when I went to tell … Duncan how sorry I was, he … attacked me. I did not mean to tell you this, but he was committed to a mental institution where he … hanged himself a day or so later.'

Melda's round eyes regarded her in disbelief. ‘You've invented these lies to keep me away from Ruairidh, but it's no use. He loves me, and he'll marry me whatever you say.'

‘Not when I tell him you were pregnant to one of the Seaforths and didn't even know which, you'd been with so many.'

Her stomach churning with disgusted horror, Melda cried, ‘But you made that story up as well, and Ruairidh'll believe me before he –'

Marianne gave an unpleasant smile. ‘He will not believe that his mother wanted you to have
his
child adopted, because I will deny it emphatically, and if you persist with your nonsense, I'll tell him you begged me to pay for an abortion. You are breaking the promise you made me, so why shouldn't I break my part of the bargain? As for the facts of your birth, ask Robert Mowatt. He will confirm what I've said.'

Tottering to her feet, Melda made for the door, making no sign that she heard Marianne saying that her wages would be ready in the morning. Nevertheless, when she reached her room on the second floor, she did not, as might be expected, throw herself down on the bed to cry. She was beyond weeping. To have been so near achieving her heart's desire and then have the woman she had thought was her friend tell her something that couldn't, couldn't possibly, be true … The other thing, the threat about the Seaforth Highlanders, that wasn't so bad; Ruairidh would have seen it for the lie it was, but she had a strong suspicion that he would be appalled if she really was the daughter of a mentally defective man. However much he loved her, he wouldn't risk the taint of insanity in any children he may have.

She sat for some minutes, torturing herself, unable to lay the blame for her troubles on any one person. She could fully understand now why Lady Glendarril had suggested aborting the baby, why she was so against a marriage, why she was willing to tell lies to prevent it … if her story was true. Melda's head jerked up. As the woman had said, there was one sure way to prove it, or preferably, disprove it. She would pack and go home right away – she couldn't stay here any longer – and she would demand to be told the truth.

In less than fifteen minutes, she was carrying her case down the back stairs on her way to tell the other servants – who usually congregated in the kitchen in the evenings – that she was leaving. ‘Don't tell her ladyship till morning,' she warned Ruby and rushed out before the astonished women could ask any questions.

Robert Mowatt was sitting alone by the fire. He quite liked when Flora was out at one of her WRI meetings; it gave him peace to think, because he was growing increasingly uneasy. Ruairidh Bruce-Lyall would be home any day now and Robert had a sneaking feeling that the boy would ask him for his daughter's hand in marriage. The thing was, while
he
would be happy to give his consent, Marianne, knowing the truth of Melda's birth and having that unhealthy obsession about Duncan Peat, would do her best to talk her son out of it.

The doctor heaved a noisy sigh. It was such a delicate situation. On one hand, he could easily convince Ruairidh that Peat's madness was not hereditary, just a consequence of losing his wife and … as he thought, his child. On the other hand, if he encouraged young Bruce-Lyall to defy his mother, he would be putting his own job in danger. Marianne would not stand idly by and let him make a fool of her. She would get Hamish to send him away from the glen and in all probability ruin his career for ever. Was Melda's happiness worth such a sacrifice? She was a beautiful girl, she would find another man to love … but how would she meet any other men when she was tied to the castle? Should he try to persuade her to make use of her education and work for a degree in Medicine? It would likely take some doing to prise her away from Ruairidh, but it would be the best thing all round.

Getting to his feet, Robert took a glass and a bottle of whisky from the sideboard to toast his decision, which he knew would anger most of the people concerned. Flora was pleased at the idea of her ‘daughter' being wed to the laird's son, so she would go mad at her husband for interfering, and the boy and girl themselves would feel hard done by … but they were young, resilient. They wouldn't take long to get over it. The only person who would thank him, mentally at any rate, would be Marianne.

He was enjoying his third whisky when Melda burst in, her drawn face grey. He jumped up in alarm when he saw her suitcase. ‘What's wrong?'

Flinging the case from her, she ran into his arms. ‘Oh, Dad, Lady Glendarril says my real father was a mad minister,' she cried, the tears she had been holding back flooding out.

Wishing that he had full control of his senses, Robert stroked her back, kissed her hair and searched frantically for an answer which would pacify her, yet let her see what the consequences to him might be if she and Ruairidh took their own way.

When he said nothing, she looked at him hopelessly, tears still coursing down her cheeks. ‘Obviously, since you haven't denied it, the minister
was
my father. Why did you never tell me?'

Her misery tore at his heart. ‘Melda, my darling girl –'

‘You won't get round me that way!' she cried derisively. ‘Tell me! Was my father mad?'

Gathering that she was resigned to being the minister's daughter, Robert felt able to make a definite statement. ‘No, Duncan Peat was not mad.'

‘How do you know? How can you be so sure?'

‘Sit down, my dear, and I'll tell you what happened.'

Sitting warily on the edge of a seat, she listened as he told her of the infant left motherless by Grace Peat's death, of Duncan's total disinterest in the child, of his own wife's inability to bear live children.

‘Flora was devastated by losing her third baby,' Robert continued, ‘and no one knew the Peat baby was still alive, and … oh, I know it was wrong, but I didn't think there would be any harm in it. In fact, at the time I thought it was the only thing to do. I carried it here and told Flora she might have to give it back if Duncan …'

‘But he didn't want it back?'

It was as if they were talking about a doll, not a living child, the doctor thought before he went on to explain why he had committed the man to Hillside – not naming the girl he had raped.

Melda gasped at this. ‘
You
committed him … and yet you still say he wasn't mad?'

‘I was sure he'd recover once he got over … He was crazed with grief over his wife's death.'

‘But he didn't?'

‘He hanged himself.'

After a short meditative silence, Melda asked quietly, ‘If he hadn't … taken his own life, if he'd got back his senses, would you have told him his child was still alive?'

‘That's an academic question.'

‘Would you?' she persisted.

‘I don't know,' he admitted. ‘He killed himself …'

‘Because he couldn't get over losing his wife …' The girl paused and looked at him with her eyebrows raised. ‘… and his child?'

Robert looked away. ‘Possibly. I've tormented myself about that ever since.'

After a moment, Melda said, ‘If everybody thought the baby had died, who told Ruairidh's mother?'

‘Flora felt guilty about it, too, so she told Marianne. That's why –'

Melda straightened up. ‘I see now! That's why she tried to keep them from seeing me in their school holidays?'

‘Yes, I'm afraid so.' Robert leaned over to pat the girl's hand. ‘I'll try to make Ruairidh understand. I'll tell him everything and maybe it'll turn out all right in the end, my dear.'

In view of what she knew of Lady Glendarril, Melda wasn't at all sure of that, and not really having come to terms with what she had just been told, she went to bed even before Flora returned from her WRI meeting.

Ruairidh arrived in the middle of Saturday forenoon, throwing down his kitbag to hug his mother, then shaking hands with his father.

‘The first thing I'm going to do is to ask Melda to marry me,' he grinned, not even unbuttoning his greatcoat.

Realizing that he had not seen the girl since he came back from Edinburgh the previous morning, Hamish demanded, ‘Where is she? What have you done, Marianne?'

His wife's face turned scarlet, but her voice was quite steady. ‘She left on Thursday night.'

‘Left? But why?'

‘She wasn't really suitable as a lady's maid-cum-companion.'

Hamish frowned. ‘Not suitable? Ridiculous! She was the most suitable you were ever likely to find.'

Marianne couldn't hide her agitation, and Ruairidh regarded her quizzically. ‘You never said in any of your letters that she was your lady's maid, Mother, but you'll have to find a new one in any case. Like I said, I'm going to marry her as soon as I can.'

His father beamed. ‘You couldn't do better, son.'

‘He couldn't do any worse!' Marianne screamed.

The two bewildered men glanced at each other, but with no further explanation, she went on, ‘I won't allow you to marry her, Ruairidh, and that's that!'