Read Island of the Swans Online
Authors: Ciji Ware
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Biographical, #Historical, #United States, #Romance, #Scottish, #Historical Fiction, #Historical Romance
Their cries of release mingled in the crystalline air and an answering call of a proud trumpeter swan, gracefully carving furrows on the glassy surface of the loch, echoed their joy. Thomas and Jane seemed to be suspended in their tower room in a net of diamonds that sparkled on the blue water below their pine-strewn bower and shone in the clear, silvery sky overhead. A breeze whispering through their chamber cooled their bodies, slick with sweat, as they lay quietly in each other’s arms. Each was reluctant to break the magical spell, which held them in its silence.
Thomas flung one end of his kilt around them both and held Jane against his chest. He tenderly coaxed a lock of her hair off her damp forehead and kissed the spot where it had lain. He clasped her right hand and brushed his lips gently against her injured finger.
“In so many ways, Jenny, love, you’re just the same—beautiful and so full of life,” he said softly. “You’re a wonder to behold.” He leaned on one elbow and gazed through the narrow window opposite him, staring over the water at the protective circle of stately Caledonian pines holding Loch-an-Eilean in its embrace. “Don’t you see,” he mused aloud, “that we never, for one moment, lost what we had? Our sorrow was… that for such a long time, we couldn’t have it
together.
”
“And now?” she whispered.
Thomas gazed down at her for a moment. His eyes spoke wordlessly of the futility of making any predictions about the future.
She smiled ruefully and tucked the top of her head under his chin.
“The summer…” she murmured, closing her eyes. “’Tis like a gift from the Highland fairies. You’re here at Kinrara for the whole, beautiful summer.”
“Aye, Jenny, that I am,” he said quietly.
The moment was sweet, indeed, she thought. She wouldn’t look forward and she wouldn’t look back.
“’Tis enough,” she said, smiling faintly, and tightened her arms around him. “’Tis enough, my darling Thomas.”
Acknowledgments
W
HEN A WRITER EMBARKS ON A PROJECT OF THE SCOPE AND SIZE OF
Island of the Swans
, it is impossible to anticipate the scores of people who will make significant contributions to the finished work along the way.
Foremost on my list of people to thank are the staff and administration of the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery in San Marino, California. I was granted a Readership in Eighteenth-century Scottish and American History for a year, which stretched to nearly four. With this, came a desk in the library’s magnificent Main Reading Room and the helpful assistance of such people in Readers’ Services as Virginia Renner, Doris Smedes, Mary Jones, and Mary Wright, not to mention the cheerful support of the Huntington’s former director Robert Middlekauff and assistance from able administrators Glenda Van der Zaag and Catherine Wilson. Thanks, too, to the head of the Department of Research Martin Ridge, to Diana Wilson, an art historian who led me to descriptions of the artist studio of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and to Robert Wark, Curator of the Huntington Art Collections. I am also grateful for the suggestions and encouragement offered by my fellow researchers and authors at the Huntington, among them, Marsha Fowler, Catherine Kelly, Karen Langlois, Karen Lystra, Barry Menikoff, Jeanne Perkins, Susan Puz, Elizabeth Talbot-Martin, Catherine Turney, Midge Sherwood, and Paul Zall. Any violations of the high standards of historical research embraced by these dear friends and staff are clearly my own responsibility.
In addition, I would like to thank the various anonymous librarians throughout Scotland who granted innumerable kindnesses to an American novelist dashing in and out of their quiet lairs over several years’ research. Also, I greatly appreciated guidance from costume experts Helen Bennett of the National Museum of Antiquities of Scotland and Edward Maeder, curator of textiles and costumes at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.
And then there is Major Robin McLaren, the present owner of Jane Maxwell’s Highland home, Kinrara. He caught me looking longingly over the fence bordering the estate’s parkland and invited me in for a drink. In his splendid paneled library, he shared part of the tale of the house’s former mistress with me, gleaned from conversations with his late godfather and his own mother. Thanks to his wonderful hospitality, and that of his wife, Annie, I was treated to several stays in Kinrara House, sleeping in my heroine Jane’s bedroom, which looks over the River Spey. Major McLaren himself rowed me out to the derelict castle of the Wolf of Badenoch on Loch-an-Eilean and permitted me to visit a variety of scenic spots Jane herself had once frequented.
Simon, the Seventeenth Lord Lovat of Fraser, one of the great Highland chiefs and a Scottish hero of World War II, also extended extraordinary hospitality to me and my family over several years, never protesting when his ancestor Simon, Master of Lovat, began to figure as a faintly villainous force in the novel. To Lord Lovat and Lady Rose, I offer my deepest thanks.
Similarly, I am grateful to Sir George Gordon-Lennox and his wife for granting me several tours of Gordon Castle in Fochabers and filling my head with family lore. George Gordon, an historian in Aberdeen, made a major contribution to what is known about Jane Maxwell, Fourth Duchess of Gordon, in his limited edition work,
The Last Dukes of Gordon and their Consorts, 1743-1864.
Lorna Lumsden, of Abriachian, near Loch Ness, sheltered me on several research trips to the Highlands, generously offering her salty humor and lifelong knowledge of the area.
In America, I must thank my husband, journalist, and Internet executive Anthony Pattison Cook, who accompanied me on many of my journeys and cast his professional eye on my manuscript many times during its preparation. My son, Jamie Ware Billett, grew to young adulthood during the period it took to complete this project and cheered me every step of the way, even to the extent of allowing me to dress him in his family tartan at a very young age.
I am deeply indebted to the work of pioneering historian, Gerda Lerner, Robinson-Edwards Professor of History at the University of Wisconsin, for her arresting book
The Majority Finds Its Past: Placing Women in History.
Her insistence that half of human history has yet to be written because the lives of women haven’t been properly chronicled spurred me forward at a crucial period in the writing phase of this effort.
Another scholar, in her own way, is Ann Skipper, an instructress and member of the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society who introduced me practically and historically to Scottish country dancing and to Jane Maxwell’s noteworthy talent for this lively pastime (still very much a part of Scottish and American social life—if you know where to look).
In the process of my refighting the American Revolution, Registered Guide Sonya O’Malley of Charleston, along with a number of other enthusiastic guides at Yorktown, Brandywine, Williamsburg, and Savannah made researching the saga of the kilted regiment known as the 71st Fraser Highlanders an utter delight. So did reading
The Fraser Highlanders
and interviewing its author, Colonel Ralph J. Harper.
Marilyn McCracken, a lover of Scotland herself, gave the manuscript meticulous attention before it ever reached a publisher, while Gayle Van Dyck proved an inspiring traveling companion and expert reader of eighteenth-century penmanship. Historical novelists Sue Gross and Elda Minger gave invaluable suggestions along the way. Thanks too, for the support of the women in the Los Angeles Women Writers’ Computer Group, which I cofounded with writer Betsy James midway through this project.
And finally, I wish to express my deepest appreciation to the late, beloved editor Beverly Lewis, who acquired the original manuscript for her publishing house in 1987; to the amazing CEO of Sourcebooks Landmark, Dominique Raccah, who truly understands the on-going publishing revolution; to my current editor there, the wonderful Deb Werksman, who has given this historical novel a new life; to my father and mentor, the novelist Harlan Ware; and to the actress Jeanne Cagney, who gave me my first swan and convinced me that I could write a novel.
Ciji Ware – 2010
Postscript 2010
S
O MANY OF THOSE WHO WERE EXTRAORDINARILY HELPFUL IN THE
writing this novel are no longer with us. I hope this beautiful new edition—twenty years after the book’s debut—stands in tribute to their talents and friendship.
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