Amanda Scott (2 page)

“I never told anyone. You’re the only one to whom I’ve mentioned him at all, and you said I was daft and teased me about him when I did tell you.”

“I never teased you that much, Pinkie, did I?”

His voice sounded troubled, so she hastened to reassure him. “Not so much,” she agreed, thinking that, much or not, it had been enough to silence her.

“I remember the first time you told me about him,” Chuff said. “It was when we all came to Dunraven the summer after the old earl and our uncle died. You didn’t say you’d seen your ghost before that, but you must have if you saw him inside. You weren’t inside again for years afterward, and I don’t think you’ve stayed there overnight since the day we left, as children.”

“Aye, I did see him before ever we went away to live with Mary and Himself.” She hesitated, but he was looking down at her with a frown and she knew he would not let her stop there. “Do you remember, Chuff, when the laird—our uncle—sent me to work in the kitchens soon after we arrived at Shian?”

“Aye.”

He spoke curtly, but she knew his anger was for things that lay in the past. Quietly, she said, “There was a man who worked there. Looking back, I think he must have been only a scullion, but of course, everyone in the castle then was more important than I was, and much bigger. I was not yet seven.”

“And scrawny,” he said. “You were right scrawny then, lass.”

“Well, so were you. That man delighted in teasing me. He struck me once, and he pulled my hair, but even worse, he liked to pet me like a dog or cat. It made my flesh creep when he would touch me. On a day not long before we left he was particularly horrid, and I had begun crying. Don’t look so fierce,” she added. “He’s probably dead by now. Many of them died when the laird did, after all.”

“Go on about your ghost, lass.”

“Well, it was then. The horrid man had caught hold of me, and I was trying to get free. He shook me, then suddenly he cried out and let me go so abruptly that I fell. When I looked up
he
was there.”

“He?”

“My ghost. He stood between us, and the man who had been tormenting me just stood there glaring. At first I thought my ghost was real, and that the man was glaring at him, but he wasn’t. The horrid man took a step toward me, then stopped and threw his arms around himself in the way one does when one is very cold. He began shivering something fierce. Only it was not cold, Chuff, because we were near the kitchen fire. He told the cook he was going to fetch wood, and he never came near me again. Of course, we went away with Mary soon after, but still…”

When she paused, he nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I would have, I suppose, if you had believed me when I told you about seeing him in the woods that time, but when you didn’t, I guess I decided you didn’t want to know any of the details about him. You were jealous, I expect.”

He snorted.

“No, really, Chuff. You were only nine then, remember, and you were so protective of me that I am not sure you would have welcomed any other protector.”

“Hoots, lass, it’s natural for a brother to look after his sister. Mrs. Conochie who cooks at Shian now, has got two bairns, and although there’s no one for them to fear here, her Tam watches over wee Flora like I watched over you. For all that, though, I can tell you I welcomed Himself when he came, and our Mary.”

“Yes, but they were different They protected both of us, and your inheritance. They were real, Chuff, and willing to take the place of the parents we had never known. Before you came to trust them, though, you still looked after me,” she added gently. “You did so until Himself sent you off to school.”

“Aye, and I didn’t much want to go then, either,” he admitted, giving her arm a squeeze. “You looked so sad the day I left. I’ll never forget that, lassie. If I had known how you pined for me—”

“I’m glad they didn’t tell you,” she said quickly. “Charles, Lord MacCrichton, should be an educated man. They were right to send you to Edinburgh, and it’s right that you should go to Oxford now.”

“Anything more that I need to know I could learn from Himself,” Chuff said.

“He says you cannot, that one needs to know too much nowadays, that things are changing so rapidly that one man on his own cannot keep up with the changes.”

“Then I could study at Edinburgh,” he said. “I’d not need to be so far from home, Pinkie. I miss you, too, you know, when I’m away.”

“I do know,” she said, “but Himself says we must learn more about England and the English, and at least he’s letting me go to London, too, Chuff.”

“Do you
want
to go?”

“Well, I don’t want to leave the Highlands, but I do want to see where you’ll be, since he will take me,” she said. “He and Mary both say that England is not the scary place it’s always been in my mind, and that I ought to see as much for myself. Most of all, though, it means not having to say good-bye to you so soon. Before you have to go to Oxford we’ll have at least six weeks together in London.”

“To get a little town bronze,” Chuff said, grinning, as he repeated the phrase they had heard the earl use more than once. “You’ll like dressing up, Pinkie.”

“Aye, I will that,” she agreed, “but not as much as Lady Agnes will.”

Chuff chuckled. “Lady Agnes has always wanted to go to London, has she not, but I wonder how much she’ll like it there if people insist on calling her the Dowager Countess of Balcardane, instead of Lady Agnes Campbell.”

“She’s such a dear that I daresay they will call her whatever she tells them to call her, especially since she will keep right on explaining to them why they must do so until they feel as if their eyes have begun spinning in their heads,” Pinkie said, thinking fondly of the earl’s chatty mother, who had accepted two ragged children into her household as easily as if they had been her own grandchildren.

“She’ll fair talk the hair off their heads; that’s true enough,” Chuff said with the twinkle that generally lit his eyes when he spoke of Lady Agnes.

“She’s just as much Lady Agnes as she is the dowager countess, anyway,” Pinkie pointed out. “And she’s been Lady Agnes since she was born, after all, not just since she married, because her papa was an earl just like Himself’s papa was. I had to learn all about that sort of thing, you know,” she added. “It wouldn’t do for me to make mistakes in company, after all. Things like that are important for ladies to know, Mary says, although she don’t seem to care much about them herself.”

Instead of making the light response she expected, Chuff remained silent for so long that she looked up at him to see why. He was frowning again, but he was not gazing at the smoke this time. He was just staring into space.

“What’s wrong, Chuff?”

A muscle jumped in his lower cheek, and for a moment she thought he would refuse to tell her. Then he looked at her and seemed to make up his mind. He stopped walking and turned to face her directly, taking both of her hands in his and holding them tightly.

Pinkie felt a little shiver race up her spine. Whatever he was going to tell her would not be pleasant. “What is it, Chuff? Why do you look so fierce?”

“Have they spoken to you about London, lass?”

Surprised, she said, “Of course they have. Lady Agnes talks only of gowns and fashions, of course, but Himself and Mary have talked of practically nothing but London and Oxford for weeks. You know that.”

His expression did not change. “I know we’ve talked about how it will take weeks to get there from the Highlands, and how we will travel, and where we will stay along the road and when we arrive. We’ve talked about fabrics, tailors, and dressmakers. We’ve talked about coaches, wagons, inns, baggage, servants, whom and what we’ll take with us, how many horses, dogs, and so forth. What we have not talked about, Pinkie lass, is the reception we are likely to receive there.”

“Goodness, Chuff, you sound like you do not expect to enjoy it at all. I thought you had decided it would do you good to go.”

“It will do me good,” he said, his tone still grim. “Whatever I said before, I do know that I will benefit from a broader education. I’m not the one I am concerned about.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“I am. Clearly, no one has spoken to you about one very important matter. He only just warned me, or I’d have told you myself earlier. We did not attend many parties together last spring when you visited me in Edinburgh.”

Bewildered by the apparent non sequitur, she said, “You were still in school. When you could spend time with us, we did other things, things that were fun. I found that I did not much care for parties, anyway.”

“Aye, I remember. I remember that when I asked you why you didn’t like them, you told me you thought them tedious.”

There was an accusatory note in his voice this time, and she found herself answering defensively, “But that’s perfectly true. They
were
tedious. I suppose if I had been one of the more popular girls, I might have liked them better, but I wasn’t, Chuff. I’m still shy with most people, you know. I always have been shy. And, in Edinburgh, shy girls don’t seem to attract many handsome young men who want to dance with them.”

She saw hesitation in his expression, but then he straightened, squaring his shoulders in the same way she had seen him square them after he had misbehaved, and knew that he faced a scolding or punishment. “I believed that then,” he said gently, “just as you still believe it, lass. But Duncan told me it was more than that.”

Chuff never called Himself Duncan when it was just the two of them. Between themselves they still referred to him the same way they had when Black Duncan Campbell first came into their lives. He had seemed utterly godlike to the two children then, and they had mistaken him for lord of all he surveyed. They had soon learned that he was as human as anyone else, and they had come to love him like a father, but that had not diminished their awe of him. That Chuff called him Duncan now reminded Pinkie that they were both nearly adults, although she was still eighteen and Chuff would not legally come of age until June.

“What more could there be?” she asked.

“Did they say nothing to you about what to expect in London?”

She thought for a moment. “He told me he would give me a dress allowance so that I can order dresses made in the latest fashions, and he said that I should not be dismayed if some of the English nobility hold their noses in the air when they meet members of the Scottish nobility. He said our connections to the Duke of Argyll and the Earl of Rothwell will prevent anyone’s being truly rude to us.”

“Is that all he said?”

“Aye. All that I can remember, at all events. Mary schooled me more on the sort of manners that will obtain in London society, for she has learned all about them from her cousin Maggie Rothwell. And Mary said we had best not mention her gift of second sight, because the English take a dim view of such things and tend to believe that the Sight does not exist.” She felt a sudden bubble of laughter and squelched it, saying in a carefully even tone, “Are you afraid that I might mention my ghost, Chuff? Indeed, I can easily promise you that I will not.”

Instead of laughing, as she expected, he just shook his head. His demeanor remained solemn. “Pinkie, if they haven’t said anything, doubtless they will say that I ought not to speak of it either, but I cannot believe silence in such matters is wise. The problem does not affect me as much as it will you, because whatever their English scruples may be, I am still
Lord
MacCrichton. Furthermore, I am wealthy, a plain fact that will outweigh any number of sins, I’m afraid.”

“What sins, Chuff? I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, I promise you.”

“I know you haven’t, lass, but the people who ignored you in Edinburgh did not do so because you are shy. You’ve got over much of that, anyway, so long as you are with people who are kind to you. But it will be worse in England if they find out, and I cannot believe it is right not to warn you to take care.”

“If they find out what?”

“About our parents, Pinkie.”

“What about them? Our father was the younger son of the seventh Lord MacCrichton. Do you mean because he died serving Bonnie Prince Charlie?”

“I imagine that will count against us with some English folks, but that’s not the worst of it,” Chuff said. “Don’t you remember what they called him, lass?”

Pinkie shook her head. “No one talks much to me about him,” she said.

Chuff sighed. “That’s because they are afraid of Black Duncan,” he said. “No one hereabouts dared taunt us about either of our parents, but don’t forget that folks have long memories, lassie. If it should become known in London that you are the daughter of Daft Geordie MacCrichton and his woman, Red Mag—”

“They called him
Daft
Geordie? How unkind, and how absurd to fret about it now, since it was due to his being our father that you inherited Shian Towers and the MacCrichton title and fortune. Moreover, they were married, Chuff. We’ve got a copy of their marriage lines in the muniments room at Balcardane.”

“Aye, we do that,” he agreed.

When he said nothing more, she thought about what he had said already. “I mustn’t tell people about all that. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“That’s part of it,” he agreed. “But that’s not all, lass. If people should find out, they won’t like it that your father was called daft, and more than that, they won’t like it that your mother was a dreadfully common woman.”

“They’re your parents, too,” she muttered.

“Aye, and I never said it was fair,” he said. “I might find a lass whose family would turn me down flat out of fear that our children might be a bit off, like our father; however, it’s much more likely that my fortune will more than make up for any other deficiency. It’s my own line that’s tainted, after all. No one would blame my wife or her ancestors for any backward offspring.”

“What a horrid thing to say!”

“I’m not saying it. It’s what others will be thinking, though.”

“Is that what they’ll think about me, that I’m tainted? Just because I don’t have money?”

Evenly, Chuff said, “Between us, Duncan and I will see to it that your dowry is a lucrative one, lassie, but there are many who will think no amount can make up for the possibility of your introducing lunacy to a proud, untainted noble line.”