The Fairbairn Girls (14 page)

Her eyes widened and she frowned. ‘You have two sons, William. Freddie and Henry.’

‘Yes. Yes.’ He sounded agitated now. ‘I have another son born out of wedlock. You mustn’t let him seize Lochlee. D’you understand? His mother is Dolly Kirkbride from the village. I was drunk one night and she . . .’

Margaret felt cold and sick, not wanting to believe it was true and that William was confused.

‘Don’t worry . . .’

He rallied angrily. ‘Listen!’ His voice was harsh and guttural as he made a desperate attempt to speak again. ‘He cursed us all, Margaret, when he was here a few years ago. That’s why we’re doomed. Everything has gone wrong ever since.’ His voice faded to a whisper. ‘You must stop him when I’m gone.’

Her throat was dry and the beating of her heart was suffocating her. ‘Where is he?’ she managed to ask.

‘He lives in a bothy on the banks of Loch Lorne. His name is Douglas Kirkbride and I fathered the Devil himself.’

There was silence. William’s eyes were closed again and he lay still now, deathly pale.

‘I’ve always loved you,’ she murmured, with her lips close to his. There was no answer. Struggling to get off the bed, she called out urgently, ‘Lizzie! Laura!’

They came rushing back into the room with the others, followed by Henry and Sir Humphrey.

‘Is Papa . . .?’ Laura asked fearfully.

‘No,’ Lizzie replied, bending closely over him to feel a faint breath on her cheek. ‘Fetch all the others. They ought to be here.’

The family clustered around the bed and the older girls held Catriona and Flora in their arms while Alice, who was ten, sat on her mother’s lap. Lying by Lord Rothbury’s feet, faithful to the end, was his favourite dog, Megan.

No one spoke as they kept watch until the local church bell chimed four on this spring afternoon in 1895, when William Angus Henry Fairbairn, seventh Earl of Rothbury, finally slipped silently away into the next world.

‘It has to be said,’ Georgie remarked in her usual blunt way, ‘that it’s a pity Papa didn’t die two years ago. Then we wouldn’t have had to pay all these ruinous death duties.’

It may have been what a lot of people were thinking in the tumultuous weeks that followed Lord Rothbury’s funeral, but in front of his grieving family it was met with horror and cries of ‘How can you say such a thing!’

Although Freddie had now officially succeeded his father as the eighth Earl, Henry, in his brother’s absence, had taken over the complications of dealing with lawyers and accountants, helped and guided by Sir Humphrey who, being older, was more experienced in such matters, while Lady Rothbury retired once more to her room, unable to face the difficulties that lay ahead.

‘Once probate has been granted, and as your late husband’s will is very straightforward, there are no problems there,’ Sir Humphrey assured her. ‘Now it is a matter of valuing his assets; that is the castle and its contents, the land and the houses on it, the grouse moors, the home farm – everything your family possesses, in other words. Only then will we know how much you will owe to the Inland Revenue.’

‘Will it be many hundreds of pounds?’ she asked fearfully.

He looked startled, realizing she knew nothing of the value of either the land or the works of art that were hung on the walls of Lochlee Castle.

‘It will,’ he replied carefully, ‘be in the region of many thousands of pounds.’

‘We’re ruined then!’ she exclaimed in distress. ‘How can I pay for your and Lizzie’s wedding? Oh, this is the most terrible calamity!’ She covered her face with her hands, wracked with the horror of her position.

Sir Humphrey laid a calming hand on her shoulder. ‘My dear Lady Rothbury, please don’t upset yourself. It would give me the greatest delight to provide the wherewithal so that Lizzie and I can be married in style.’

‘That would never do,’ she said, scandalized. ‘What would people think?’

‘No one will know. Not even Lizzie,’ he replied swiftly. ‘Remember, it’s going to be months, if not years, before the tax actually has to be paid, so please don’t worry about it now.’

Once he’d placated his future mother-in-law he told the lawyer in charge of the Fairbairn affairs that whilst he should advise the family to cut back on their usual extravagant expenditure when it came to entertaining and clothes for the eight sisters, he should not worry the widowed Countess with all the details until they were a
fait accompli
.

‘That doesn’t mean we can’t have Mrs Armitage as usual for three months, does it? What about my wedding dress?’ Lizzie asked when she was told about the cutbacks.

‘Mrs Armitage will be the first person to go,’ Georgie said with a touch of spite. ‘Mama can’t afford her any more so we’ll all have to wear last season’s clothes.’

Lizzie’s eyes brimmed with tears of disappointment. ‘But my wedding . . .?’ she exclaimed. ‘I have to have a wedding dress.’

‘Have you forgotten that Mrs Armitage taught me how to make dresses?’ Laura said. ‘Remember the beautiful wedding dress I made for myself?’ she added poignantly.

‘Yes, but . . .’ Lizzie began, then stopped. ‘I’d forgotten that. Could you really make one for me, too?’

‘If we can buy the new Singer sewing machine that has been written about in the newspapers, which can apparently do everything from piping to pin-tucking, then of course I can make your wedding dress. In fact, I’ll be able to make clothes for all of us, even Mama, and it’s something I’d really enjoy doing.’

Georgie frowned doubtfully. ‘There’s a lot more to dressmaking than just having a machine to do the stitching for you,’ she pointed out. ‘Who’s going to do the designing? And cutting? Not to mention fitting? Remember how Mrs Armitage used to take all our measurements? And then make a
toile
in plain cotton before she cut out the actual dress out?’

Laura nodded, not in the least put out by her sister’s doubts about her capability. ‘I know it’s not straightforward,’ she replied, ‘but who sat watching her hour after hour, taking in everything she did? Asking her questions all the time? Asking if I could help?’

‘We must let Laura have a go,’ Diana insisted. ‘She knows theoretically about dressmaking and I’m sure she’s clever enough and artistic enough to put it into practice. I’d certainly love for you to make me a dress, Laura,’ she added warmly.

‘Me too,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘And I’d like my wedding dress to be made of white taffeta edged with lace and decorated with white satin bows.’

Beattie was also quick to give her approval to the plan. ‘We can concoct original designs,’ she said enthusiastically.

As Laura sat listening it struck her with sudden force that she’d unwittingly created more than just an economical solution for them all to have new clothes for the season; there was also a future for herself that could one day make her financially independent. She’d never marry. Rory could never be replaced, so was she going to remain at Lochlee for the rest of her life? A spinster looking after her widowed mother while all her sisters married and had their own families? Was she condemned to living off the estate and never having her own money to spend as she liked?

Deep inside her was a longing and a need for independence. It was one thing to be financially cared for by a loving husband and quite another to be ‘looked after’ by her parents’ money. This way, perfecting her skills as she went along, she’d be able to carve out her own business, in much the same way as Mrs Armitage had done. She rose to her feet, an exultant expression on her face. ‘I’ll do it!’ she told the others, but whilst they were thinking about next season’s clothes, she felt charged with ambition as she thought about what she could do with the rest of her life.

Laura had arranged vases of flowers in every room and she had made sure the cook bought the best beef to roast for dinner that night to go with the freshly gathered vegetables from the garden. ‘I want everything to be perfect,’ she told Hobbs.

The butler nodded and automatically curled his fingers tightly around the only key to the wine cellar, which hung with other keys from a chain at his waist. ‘Yes, M’Lady. Everything is in order. At what time is Mr Leighton-Harvey expected to return, M’Lady?’

‘About four o’clock. We’ll have tea in the garden. You did order the scones he particularly likes, didn’t you?’

‘Yes indeed, M’Lady. We’ve also got a Dundee cake.’

‘That’s splendid. Thank you, Hobbs.’

He could tell she was nervous by the strain in her voice and the way her hands were tightly clasped. Lady Laura’s face also looked drawn, the result of losing a lot of weight during the five months the master had been incarcerated in a special nursing home in Edinburgh, although his absence was referred to as him ‘being away’ to suggest he might have been cruising on the Mediterranean or some such place. This had fooled no one in the neighbourhood and especially not the rest of the staff, but Lady Laura had her pride and he didn’t blame her. Recently she’d referred to ‘new beginnings’ and ‘turning over a new leaf’ – it was obvious she desperately wanted everything to be perfect in future.

Hobbs was a realist, though. You couldn’t turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse, as his old mother used to say, nor could you hope Mr Leighton-Harvey would never touch another drop of alcohol. People were people.

At two o’clock Laura went up to her room to change into a white lawn dress with frills around her wrists and a long full skirt hemmed with a
broderie anglaise
flounce that swirled around her slim ankles. Then she tied a black velvet sash around her waist and added a stylish black velvet choker to which she pinned a diamond brooch. Her hair was already swept up into an elegant chignon, but as a last touch she tore from a small pad a little page of paper, already impregnated with face powder, with which she dabbed her nose and cheeks.

Today, she assured herself, was the first day of a new life for both her and Walter. The doctor had said he had high hopes that Walter would never drink again and, as long as he was in a stress-free setting, he should be fine. He’d learned his lesson, the doctor added.

‘I’ve told him that if he drinks again he will die this time,’ Dr Allen said with conviction. ‘His liver cannot take any more abuse.’

Laura had thanked him, wanting to believe more than anything that she need never fear Walter drinking again. Now it was up to her to make sure he wouldn’t slip back. She decided that peace and calm would pervade in the household, with little entertaining and no alcohol at all. In future Caroline and Neil would be the centre of their lives and, for their sakes if nothing else, Walter must never have another drink.

When she was ready, Laura went up to the nursery to fetch Caroline, who had just returned from her dancing class.

‘Mama, I’ve just learned how to do the Highland Fling,’ she exclaimed excitedly. ‘Can I show you?’

‘Why don’t you change first, darling? Put on that cream dress I made for you, the one with the blue smocking round the waist?’

‘La-La, La-Le!’ the child sang as she twirled around and around on her tip-toes. ‘Shall I be a fairy?’

Laura smiled. She loved her daughter with every fibre of her being and was so proud of her. Caroline was pretty and vivacious, with Walter’s dark sparkling eyes, and she was always smiling and chattering happily.

‘I have a better idea!’ Laura exclaimed teasingly.

‘What is it?’ Little hands tugged at her skirt.

‘Dada is coming home today and he’ll be here soon. Why don’t you put on your dress and dance for him?’

‘The Highland Fling?’

‘Any dance you like, darling.’

Caroline’s small face lit up as if a light inside her had been switched on. ‘Dada’s coming home? Today?’

Laura nodded, pleased at the welcome Walter would receive when he arrived.

When they heard the car coming up the drive Caroline flung herself out of the front door, having been sitting waiting at the bottom of the stairs for the past half hour.

‘Dada! Dada! I’m going to dance for you. I can do the Highland Fling,’ she boasted. ‘Watch me, Dada! Watch me dance!’

Standing in the open doorway, Laura watched as Walter jumped out of the back of the car and scooped his little girl up in his arms.

For a brief flicker of a moment she saw the healthy, good-looking man she’d fallen in love with and married. The man who had swept her off her feet with his enormous charm and wit. The man with a military background: disciplined, brave and with a distinguished army record.

He caught her eye at that moment and, putting Caroline down, he came towards Laura and placed his hands on her shoulders before kissing her on the cheek. She tried desperately hard to hang on to the momentary vision she’d had but it was no good. Looking into his eyes now she saw his vulnerability, his deep flaws, his shame and his apology. It made her want to weep for the man she’d lost to alcohol but she kissed him back, hoping he’d think she loved him as much as she’d used to.

‘I thought we’d have tea in the garden and Caroline is going to show you how beautifully she can dance,’ she said as she turned away so he wouldn’t see her sense of loss, and she led the way across the lawn, where Hobbs had laid the table for tea.

This is the rest of my life, she reflected as they sat down and talked to and through Caroline, for they no longer had words for each other. Too many links had been broken and there was nothing left between them except their little daughter.

As soon as they finished their tea and Caroline had danced prettily around the garden, singing as she went, Walter rose to his feet. ‘I’d better go and tackle the post that must have accumulated for me,’ he said. ‘Neil’s coming home tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Rowena is bringing him over and she’s staying for luncheon. I’m afraid your desk is rather swamped by post but your affairs have been looked after by John while you were away so I don’t suppose there’s anything urgent. Why don’t you leave it until tomorrow?’

‘No, I want to see what’s been happening.’ Walter remained in his study until it was time for dinner and then he announced that he wasn’t hungry. His face was white and he seemed to be very distracted as he paced up and down the room.