Elaine Coffman - [Mackinnons 06] (24 page)

“They found it in his possessions,” she said, her lip
trembling. “I suppose he meant to post it to you, but he never…g-got the
chance.”

He heard the break in her voice, saw the tears glistening in
her eyes. He had never wanted anything more in his life than to take her in his
arms. Yet, he could not. He knew what would happen if he touched her.

He vowed that someday, somehow, he would make it all up to
her, that he would spend the rest of his life seeing to it that she never
suffered or doubted his love again. He could not bring David back, but he would
see that she never wanted for anything again.

But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t enough.
She
has suffered so much. Is there no mercy for her! This is my battle and yet she
has paid the greater price. Give me the pain. Let me suffer. I can’t bear to
see her hurt.

But when it was all over, and the anguished thoughts had
played themselves out in the agony of his mind, he knew he would hurt her
again.

He pulled the letter from the envelope. David had written
that he had searched church and land records in St. Abb’s but found nothing out
of the ordinary. He had noted, however, that there were several pages missing
during the years in question, but there was no way ever to know what had
happened to them.

I did check the church records and found the proof
ofAdair’s ancestry, just as he claimed.

He ended the letter by expressing his sadness over not
finding anything.

The answer is out there somewhere. I pray God will reveal
it to you at the appointed hour.

Too many feelings seemed to jam in Fletcher’s throat. There
were so many things he felt, yet he had no words to express them. He looked out
the window and saw the pony standing near the paddock. “Well, if there is
nothing more I can do here, I’ll see to your pony before I go.”

“It is all right. Robert will see to her…or Fionn. And thank
you again for sending them here to help me.”

“It is the least I can do. I will look for a woman to help
you in the house as well.”

“I don’t need anyone, you needn’t do this for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

Suddenly she looked tired and waved her hand at him in
dismissal. “Whatever. I don’t want to argue with you,” she said, sighing.
“Thank you for all your help.” She turned away, staring across the room.

Fletcher followed the direction of her gaze and saw her
grandfather’s chair. He knew she was thinking about their lovemaking, remembering
how he had pulled her from that chair and into his arms, and he cursed the
timing of it all.

If these accidents had occurred earlier, he would have never
made love to her, knowing she was in so much danger, knowing he would have to
turn away from her in the end. He knew the kind of woman she was, the thoughts
she would be thinking, and he knew too what his betrayal would do to her.

She was so lovely that it hurt him to look at her. The
thought that he would soon turn his back on her was killing him inside. He knew
all too well what she would suffer, and he hated himself for what he knew he
had to do.

With a sad, apologetic look, he prayed that she would know
what was in his heart, that she would be able to see his love for her shining
deep in his eyes. He had asked her once to trust him, and she had done so.

He could only hope that she would trust him in this as well.
“Well, if you don’t need anything else, I guess I’ll be going,” he said.

“Aye, I think that would be best. I know you have much to
do, and I have fallen quite behind on my chores.”

He picked up his hat. “I’ll be seeing you, then.”

“Aye, take care of yourself.”

He nodded, and with a sudden turn he crossed the room and
went out the door.

After he saw that Robert had put Flora into the paddock and
fed her, Fletcher mounted his horse and headed toward Dunston and Annora. He
rode out of Cathleen’s life in much the same manner as he had entered it.

Trust me, Cathleen. Understand what this is all about.

This was just like a man, he thought—betraying the woman he
loves and praying that somehow she will understand.

He knew that even for Cathleen, this was asking a bit much.
Still, he could not help praying,
Light the candle of understanding in her
heart…

Cathleen could not understand. She had known the moment they
reached her house that she would not see him again, but that did not mean she
understood why.

Why had Fletcher made love to her and then turned his back
on her?

She walked along the edge of the loch that was almost
covered by a thick mist creeping in from the sea. She felt hot tears trickle
down her face, mingling with the cool, damp air that lingered about her.

How would she live without him?

She had thought she would not be able to bear it, but time
passed…three days, then four. Soon it was a week.

Still he did not return. In her heart, she knew he never
would.

On Sunday morning, she went to church. After the service, as
she was standing at the door talking to Robert Cameron, she heard a woman’s gay
laughter. She glanced around and saw a fancy carriage pass by.

It wasn’t seeing Annora Fraser sitting in the back of that
carriage that hurt her so deeply.

It was seeing Fletcher sitting beside her, his arm stretched
lazily across the back of the seat as he looked down at Annora, smiling at
something she had said.

The sight of him with another woman crushed Cathleen,
leaving her breathless with heartache. After a week of grieving for him, she
had thought her heart dead.

Her world shattered and lay like glittering fragments of
glass about her feet. Blinking back her tears, she managed a calm demeanor,
wishing she were anywhere right now but here.

“Cathleen?” Robert asked. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, aye.”

Robert looked in the direction of the retreating carriage.
“They make an attractive couple, don’t they?”

“Aye, they are both handsome people.”

Robert frowned. “Although I canna say I am pleased to see
the earl has taken up residence at Dunston.”

“Dunston? But, I thought…I just assumed he had returned to
Caithness.”

“No, he has been Annora’s houseguest for over a week now, I
believe.”

She turned away, feeling that there was no pain as intense
the pain of betrayal. She made her way to her carriage. She did not want
believe that Fletcher had deliberately humiliated her by turning to another
woman, but in the end that is exactly what she did believe. She was unable to
find any other explanation for it.

As she drove herself home, she found her thoughts going to
her grandfather. It was better that he was not here to witness this, for she
knew that had he still been alive, she would have confessed everything to him.
Would he have said that she was being punished for making love to him without
the blessing of wedlock? Somehow, she knew he would not.
Oh, Grandpa, I
never needed you more than I do now…
Her heart heavy, her mind grieving,
she arrived at her cottage. She did not go to her room, or to the kitchen to
cook her lunch. She went to her grandfather’s chair and sat there, crying, for
the better part of the afternoon. When nothing was left but hiccupping sobs,
she told herself that crying was good for her, that it would help ease her
pain.

She remembered what her grandfather had always said, “It
clears the lungs, washes the face, brightens the eyes, and blunts pain, so cry
away.”

She took a deep, trembling breath and wiped her eyes on the
hem of her apron. There was nothing she could do now but wait, wait with winter
patience for peace to come—like spring—back into her life.

Going to the kitchen to heat water for a cup of tea, she
vowed she would not leave her cottage until the pain of betrayal had left her
and she was whole again.

She wasn’t able to keep her vow, for the following
Wednesday, little Robbie MacHugh came down with a strange fever. Two days later
he died. Mrs. Bowie died a day later. By the third death, Dr. Scott had
diagnosed the strange fever.

Typhoid.

It hit the impoverished areas of the village first, where
most of the people drank from the same well and sewage was a constant problem.
From there it spread to other parts of the village, reaching the outlying farms
by the end of the first week. Glengarry had not seen anything so devastating
since the Clearances.

Working day and night beside Dr. Scott, Cathleen did not
have time to think much about Annora and Fletcher, which she supposed was a
blessing. There was enough suffering and dying around her; she needed no
further sadness.

She found it odd that when she was devoting all her of
efforts to helping the sick, when she had neither the energy nor the time to
think about Fletcher, that was the time he thought about her, for during this
time he came to see her three times.

“Fletcher Ramsay is here to see you,” Dr. Scott’s wife told
her as she came into the room where Cathleen was assisting the doctor.

Feeling a jolt of surprise, she looked up. “What does he
want?”

“He wanted to know how you were. He said he would like to
speak to you.”

“Tell him I am fine and that I am too busy to talk to him.”

The second time he came, Cathleen again refused to see him.

“I ken he would like to speak to you, if only for a moment,”
Mrs. Scott said.

“Just tell him I’m doing fine, that there is no need to
check on me. Dr. Scott will notify him if anything happens.”

Two days after Fletcher’s second visit, Dr. Scott became
ill, but he kept on working. “I canna take time out to be sick,” he said, and
she supposed he was right. Over half the village was sick with the fever now.

When Cathleen went home that night, she was too tired to eat
anything. As she had done the night of the fire, she fell across her bed and
immediately drifted into a deep, deep sleep of utter exhaustion.

She had no idea how long someone had been pounding at her
door before she was awakened. Opening her eyes and hearing the loud knocks, her
heart began to thump painfully in her chest, as she realized it probably meant
that Dr. Scott had taken a turn for the worse.

Dragging herself wearily from the bed, she made her way to
the front door, hearing her own gasp of surprise when she opened it and saw it
was none other than Fletcher Ramsay who stood there, an expression as dark as a
mourning weed upon his face.

She returned his dark look with one of her own. “What do you
want?”

“I came to see how you were.”

“I thought Mrs. Scott told you. I am fine.”

“I wanted to see for myself.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I can take care of myself, and if I can’t, there
is always Dr. Scott.”

“I’ve seen Dr. Scott. The man is too sick to care for
himself, much less you.”

“He has sent to Edinburgh for more doctors.”

“Cathleen…please. May I come in?”

“I’m tired. I have to be up early. Thank you for coming, but
please don’t bother to come again. If anything should happen, if I find I need
you, I’ll send for you.”

“Cathleen—”

“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.” She
tried to shut the door but found she could not. She looked down and saw his
foot wedged there.

“I’d like to explain…”

“You needn’t bother. I’m not interested in anything you have
to say. I’m sure you had your reasons for doing what you did. If you are happy,
then I can only be happy for you. Please don’t come here again… And move your
foot!”

He did not budge.

Without giving him a chance to say anything, more, she
slammed the door with all her might, which she feared was not much considering
how weak she felt. She did feel a sense of satisfaction when she discovered it
was enough to shove his foot back.

Once the door was closed, she leaned back against it, trying
to stop the frantic pounding of her heart. Taking deep breaths, she stood there
listening to the sounds of his horse riding away, as he had done before.

Two days after Dr. Scott announced that he thought the worst
of the typhoid outbreak had passed, he took a turn for the worse.

Three days later, he was dead.

Doing what she could to help the sick and having no doctor
to guide her, Cathleen managed to get by on even less sleep. Two days passed,
then four.

Dr. Scott had been dead almost a week by the time the three
doctors from Edinburgh arrived. She had expected them to ease her workload, but
Cathleen found that she was still as busy as ever. By the second week of their
stay, however, there was a drastic reduction in the number of new cases.

Now that the epidemic seemed to be subsiding, two of the
doctors returned to Edinburgh. A few days later, Cathleen was again awakened in
the dead of night, only this time it was not Fletcher Ramsay who pounded on her
door.

Summoned to Glengarry Castle, where some of the help had
taken ill, Cathleen went immediately. Upon her arrival there, she was taken
directly to Angus MacTavish, since it was reported that he was the most
seriously ill.

It did not take her long to see that this was the case, for
out of the three people there who suffered from the fever, he was the most
critical. He was now in the beginning of his third week of sickness, which was
when typhoid reached its height and the danger of dying was greatest.

The moment she entered his room, Beitris, the scullery maid
who had been caring for him, rose to her feet.

“I’m glad you are here. I dinna ken he will last the night.
I’m so frightened. Please dinna make me stay here. I’m scared of the dead. I
dinna want to catch the fever. Please tell me I can go.”

Seeing the girl’s agitated state, Cathleen knew that she
would be of little help, so she nodded. “Go get some rest. I’ll stay with him.”

“Oh, thank you,” the girl cried, kissing Cathleen’s hand
before she dashed from the room.

Cathleen went to Angus’ bedside, wincing at the sight of the
great strapping man who looked as if he had lost at least three stone.

There was not much she could do for him, aside from giving
cold sponge baths to reduce the fever. As weak as a baby from much intestinal
bleeding, he was able to eat only small sips of watery soup.

Day and night for five days she stayed with him, leaving the
room only for short periods of time, when she went to a nearby room to clean
herself up and rest.

On her way down to the kitchen to get a little dinner for
herself one afternoon, Cathleen was startled to see Beitris rushing toward her.

“His Grace would like to see you,” she said.

“Whatever for?”

“His Grace didna say, and saints above! I willna ask him. I
willna ask anything of His Grace.”

Cathleen nodded, well understanding that.

“If you will follow me, miss, I will take you to him.”

Cathleen frowned. She wondered why the Duke of Glengarry
wanted to see her.

It’s probably about Angus and the fever.

She told herself that he was, more than likely, concerned
about the typhoid spreading to other members of the household. Still, as she
followed Beitris down the stairs and toward their meeting place, she could not
keep from wondering if there was yet another reason why she had received such
an urgent summons from the Duke of Glengarry.

Minutes later, she was escorted into a small, private study
she had never seen before, where the duke awaited her.

“Come in,” Adair said, turning away from the window and
looking at her. He nodded toward a nearby chair. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

“Oh, I don’t mind standing.”

“But I mind. Please sit down,” he said firmly.

Cathleen sat down, adjusting her skirts about her, her gaze
fastened on the duke’s face. For a moment he simply returned her look, as if he
were waiting for her to look away, with demurely downcast eyes, giving him the
edge over her.

She remained steadfast, her gaze locked upon him, her stare
unblinking, unwavering.

Adair sat behind a small desk, his hands resting on the top.
“I wish to thank you for giving so unselfishly of your time. Angus has been
quite ill, and it is my understanding he would have had no chance for survival
had it not been for you.”

“I am glad I was able to help. Angus is a decent man. It is
my greatest hope that he has a speedy recovery.”

“Aye. A speedy recovery,” the duke said, his eyes boring
into her.

Cathleen was uneasy. She shifted her position in the chair
as she waited for the duke to say more, and when he did not, she wondered if
this was all he intended to say to her. She was about to rise to her feet and
excuse herself, when he spoke.

“While I have you here,” he began, “perhaps you can answer a
few questions for me.”

“About what?”

“Various things…most of them simply to satisfy my
curiosity.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I could not help but notice the Earl of Caithness lived
with you for quite some time.”

“The earl did not live with
me
. He rented the
crofter’s hut from my grandfather,” she said. “It has since burned down, but
that was after he left.”

“Aye, I have heard he is visiting Dunston now.”

She nodded. “That is my understanding.”

“I do have a certain amount of curiosity about the earl’s
purpose in spending so much time in Glengarry.”

“Then I suggest you ask the earl. He does not confide in
me.”

“Oh, come now,” Adair said. “I find that hard to believe. I
would think a woman as lovely as yourself would have no trouble drawing the
earl’s interest.”

“Obviously, the woman who has drawn the earl’s interest is
Annora Fraser. Why don’t you ask her these questions? The earl and his family
were longtime friends of my grandfather. Since his death, I have seen little of
Fletcher Ramsay.”

“So, he was here on family business, then?”

“I don’t know if you would call it business. It is my
understanding that he did have a certain amount of interest in Glengarry. I
believe he was born here and lived here until he was eight or so. It would only
be natural to assume he would want to return to the place of his birth. He
hardly knew his father, since he died when the earl was quite young, so he was
most interested in hearing stories about him.”