The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (26 page)

Chapter Thirty Seven

  The Duchess opened her eyes tae the sound ae a light knocking oan her door and the voice ae the conductor.

  “Good morning, madam.  It’s six thirty a.m. The overnight sleeper from London King’s Cross has now arrived in Inverness.  Passengers in the sleeper compartments will be given one hour to disembark from the train.  Have a good day.”

  The journey hid been pleasant.  She’d left her personal maid behind in Stafford.  The thought ae being stuck oan a train wae Clarice and her unintelligible Carolina twang hid far outweighed The Duchess hivving tae be responsible fur her ain luggage.  And besides, she’d informed Clarice, the stay in the Kyle wid only be fur a few days and she didnae want tae cause a stir by arriving wae an entourage.  Clarice hid soon furgotten why she wis protesting aboot no coming north wae her and hid further cheered up efter The Duchess explained that Culrain Castle wis haunted by an auld seventeenth century gardener who wandered aboot the corridors at night looking fur his fourteen-year-old virgin daughter. 

  “Ah ain’t agonna let no dirty ole gardener get his dirty ole fingers near me…that’s fo’ sure, ma’am.  If it’s all right wi y’all…well, Ah’ll just sit tight here on ma fanny and keep the ole missy Duchess company for a while,” Clarice hid replied, looking skyward towards heaven, hauns clasped oan her massive bosom and clutching an even bigger crucifix.

  “Are you sure, Clarice?” she’d replied, impressed by the disappointment she’d managed tae inject in tae that voice ae hers.

  “Yes’m…y’all go and enjoy yo’self, ma’am, and keep dat ole shakin’ gardener fella up there, where he belongs.  Ah ain’t needing a-fussing over and y’all tell little missy Saba that…well…Ah’ll just sit here a-waiting her return.”

  The peace and quiet hid also gied her time tae reflect oan whit she should dae next.  She wis glad she hidnae taken Lord Denby up oan his offer tae fly her up north in his private plane.  She’d stayed wae the auld Duchess Dowager fur two nights and hid hid a wonderful time.

  “You have to take control of the gel, Bea.  She needs her mother.  God knows what that useless son of mine has done to ruin her since she was sent back to him.  You should have put her here to stay with me, instead of banishing her up north amongst those horrible Highlanders,” the auld Dowager hid said.

  “I would have, Elizabeth, but I felt a spell of austerity would make Saba realise that what she had in New York was worth appreciating.  I now realise that this was, of course, a mistake on my part. I cried every night for a week after she left.  How I miss her.”

  “I don’t know if that son of mine does it deliberately, but if one tries to get through on the telephone, it is nigh on impossible to get a connection.  He claims the telephone exchange in Scotland is manned by imbeciles and communists.”

  “So, you haven’t spoken with Saba since she left here to go to Culrain?”

  “No.  The poor dear was hanging on to my skirts, pleading with me not to let her go with those two ruffians that you shamefully had accompanying her.  It broke my heart.  Another five minutes and I would have had them run off my estate.  Honestly, Bea, how could you?”

  “Yes, I know, but they are the best in the business.  By the time that I had realised my mistake, it was too late.  The plane had already taken off.”

  “Talking about mistakes…what about this latest beau of yours? The one with the complexion that reminds me of used greaseproof paper.  Manuel something or other, isn’t it?  No wonder Saba was rebelling.  I would too, if I were in her shoes.”

  “It’s Antonio, Elizabeth, and he doesn’t have a greasy complexion.  It’s his suntan.  And anyway, I’ve told you, we’ve gone our separate ways.”

  “Well, I hope you are not giving any thought to returning to that useless son of mine?  I warned you the first time around.”

  “No, I came back here to collect Saba and then the both of us are returning to New York.  I’ve met with the Principal of Brearley.  They’ve said that they are prepared to take her back in the fall, if she can prove that she has kept up with her academic studies.  Of course I lied, but I have appointed a first class tutor, who is already ensconced in the apartment, awaiting her return.”

  She knew the auld Dowager meant well and she hidnae regretted sending Saba back tae stay wae her father.  Whether her mother-in-law agreed wae it or no, Saba needed a father figure in her life, even though the wan she hid wis a little short ae useless. She wondered if her daughter wid ever furgive her, as she picked up her companion case, took wan last look tae ensure she’d everything wae her and stepped oot into the corridor ae the stationary train. 

  “M’lady?”  Riddrie said respectfully, as a porter loaded her cases oan tae an awready overloaded second trolley.

  “Riddrie, how good of you to meet me.  I thought it would be too much to expect The Duke to be here in person,” the Duchess said drily.

  “The Duke sends his warmest welcome, m’lady, and has asked me to convey that he awaits your arrival with pleasure.”

  “Does he now?  And my daughter?” she asked, looking past him fur evidence ae a welcome.

  “Unfortunately, Lady Saba was late to bed last night, m’lady, and The Duke decided to let her sleep, in order that the both of them would be bright and fresh to welcome you back to Castle Culrain in time for breakfast.”

  “I see.  Well, what are you waiting for?  Where is the car, man?”

  “Sorry, m’lady, follow me,” Riddrie apologised, leading the way tae the Rolls Royce Phantom that wis parked in a specially reserved space in front ae the main entrance.

  He prayed that Cawley wis waiting ootside in the Land Rover tae transport the Duchess’s baggage.

  “Madam,” Riddrie said, tugging his forelock as he opened the rear passenger door.  

  “Where the hell is Cawley?” she grumbled, as she stooped tae enter.

  When Riddrie hid left the castle stable block, Cawley hid appeared tae be hivving difficulty in starting the Land Rover.

  “Use the other one, Cawley.  We have to get going.  Her ladyship will not tolerate lateness,” Riddrie hid shouted tae him fae the Roller, before shifting her intae first gear and heiding doon the driveway. 

  Between Tain and Inverness, he’d kept looking in the rear-view mirror, expecting tae see the estate vehicle catching up wae him as he cruised doon the A9.

  Riddrie peered in tae the back seat through the open door.

  “One moment, m’lady,” he said, closing the door gently and turning tae walk back in tae the station entrance.

  He wis too late tae stoap the porters pushing two over-laden trolleys intae view ae the passenger sitting in the back seat.

  “Yer Lordship?” the porter wae the lead trolley asked him.

  “I’m sorry.  Unfortunately, my man has been delayed in arriving to pick up her Ladyship’s luggage.  If you’ll be so good as to wait here, he’ll be here shortly.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the Aberdeen-bound train is just about to leave the station and we’re required to be there to ensure all passengers are on board, before letting the driver know it’s all clear to go,” Porter number wan informed him.

  “But, but, this is the Duchess of Kyle’s luggage.  What am I expected to do with it?  It won’t all fit into my car,” Riddrie replied, feeling panic welling up again.

  “We can drop it across at the left luggage for you, yer Lordship,” the second porter offered.

  “I, er, I, yes, well, please, but hurry,” Riddrie squealed in frustration, looking behind him and seeing the motionless dark figure sitting in the shadows in the back seat ae the Rolls.

  “Well, your Lordship…and how long do you plan to leave the luggage for?” the Left Luggage porter asked him, staunin tae attention in his pristine uniform, wae his Adolf moustache neatly trimmed.

  “What?  Er, just for an hour or so.”

  “Right, well, the minimum is half a day.  We have special rates for a week or longer.  If you want to study the tariff list on the wall, I’ll just get the check-in ledger book, your Lordship,” Adolf said, ducking doon behind the coonter, oot ae sight.

  “What?  No, no, half a day will suffice.  Could you please hurry up?  I have a very important person sitting waiting, out in the car,” Riddrie snarled, getting himsel agitated.

  “Right, your Lordship, let’s see now,” he said, leafing through the check-in ledger tae find a blank page, while Riddrie paced up and doon impatiently. 

  “Name?”

  “What?”

  “Name, sir?”

  “Oh, er, Culrain Castle, Ardgay.”

  “And the luggage belongs to you, your Lordship?”

  “No, it belongs to the Duchess of Kyle.”

  “And her Ladyship will be collecting it in person?”

  “Er, no, McLeod, Mr Cawley McLeod shall be here any time now.”

  “And how do you spell McLeod, your Lordship?”

  “For goodness sake, man.  Will you stop asking me all these damn questions and give me a receipt so I can get on my way!”

  “Well, excuse me, your Lordship, but in order for the railway to function properly, we have to ensure the procedures are adhered to...in triplicate.  If you think this is bad, you should’ve seen what was required before nationalisation.  I blame the Germans myself.  All that efficiency, you would have thought it was us that lost the war.  Now then...Dowd, you said?”

  “McLeod!  M - small c - capital L – e – o - d.”

  “No need to shout, your Lordship.  I’ve got perfectly good working ears on me,” Adolf retorted indignantly, bit professionally, licking the tip ae his pencil, before writing doon the name.  “Now then, your Lordship, that didn’t take too long, did it?  So, let’s have the luggage then.”

  “What?  But it’s there, on the trolleys.”

  “So I can see, sir.  Let’s have it up on the counter and I’ll sign it in.  One at a time, if you’ll be so kind, sir.”

  “But, I, er...is there not a porter to do this sort of thing?”

  “I’m afraid that, due to efficiencies, you’ll have to hand over the luggage on your own, your Lordship.”

  “Me?  But there are two trolleys full of the stuff,” Riddrie exclaimed, horrified, looking between the trolleys and Heinrich Himmler behind the coonter.

  “Yes, m’lord?”

  “Right!” Riddrie grumbled lifting doon a suitcase fae the tap ae the first trolley, which wis perched six inches above his six foot frame.

  He struggled tae transfer it across tae the counter.

  “One large brown suitcase, number five-five-three-two-four,” Heinrich mumbled tae himsel, copying the number fae the broon label and writing it intae the ledger, before tying the label oan tae the haundle ae the suitcase and carrying it across tae the shelves behind him at the other side ae the room.   “Right, we’re ready for the next one, your Lordship.”

  Panic hid engulfed the castle.  It hid aw started aff slowly and gathered pace wance Cawley McLeod flattened the battery ae the Landy while attempting tae get it started.  Things went doonhill literally fae there when Cameron Sellar arrived and failed tae get his wan tae started either.  Cameron goat into Cawley’s wan and goat Cawley tae push the Landy away fae the side ae the building and rolled it through the entrance ae the stable block.  It cruised doon the driveway while Cameron attempted tae bump start it, only fur him tae get the front and back left passenger side wheels stuck in the saft verge at the side ae the driveway.  Oan returning tae the stable block, Cameron came across George berating Cawley and demanding tae know where his Landy hid disappeared tae.

  “But, I don’t know where it is, Mr George, sir.  When I saw the empty space this morning, I assumed you had been up, out and away,” Cawley whined.

  “The Landy wouldn’t start, George, and I’ve just got stuck in the verge at the side of the drive, trying to bump start The Duke’s one,” Cameron said tae his brother, scratching his heid.

  “Something’s not right here,” George muttered, looking at Cameron’s Landy sitting in the yard wae its bonnet open.

  The Duke hid been sitting oan the veranda, getting impatient. He’d awready been waiting fur the best part ae hauf an hour fur Saba tae put in an appearance.  He looked at his watch.  He wis expecting Bea tae arrive at any moment.  He looked up at the sound ae footsteps.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but Lady Saba is not in her bedroom,” Morven informed The Duke.

  “What?  Where is she then?”

  “I don’t know, m’lord,” she replied.

  “Have you tried the breakfast room?”

  “I’ve been all over the castle, m’lord.  She isn’t anywhere to be seen.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!  Is she out on her horse?”

  “No, m’lord.  I’ve just spoken to Mr McLeod and he said all the horses are still in their stalls.”

  “Right, wait a moment...what did you just say?  You were talking to Cawley.  Oh, my God!  She’s arrived and no-one has informed me,” The Duke yelped, panic in his voice, as he jumped oot ae his seat.

  “Who, sir?” Morven asked him, concerned that The Duke wis aboot tae hiv a heart attack.

  “It’s Saba’s birthday.  The Duchess is arriving today as an unexpected birthday surprise.”