The Darkness of Love E-Book

Vivian Stuart

• Herausgeber: Jentas Ehf
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Historical Romance
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 220

Beschreibung

INTRIGUE. TENSION. LOVE AFFAIRS: In The Historical Romance series, a set of stand-alone novels, Vivian Stuart builds her compelling narratives around the dramatic lives of sea captains, nurses, surgeons, and members of the aristocracy. Stuart takes us back to the societies of the 20th century, drawing on her own experience of places across Australia, India, East Asia, and the Middle East.    From the brooding Scottish highlands… A Gothic novel – of romance and terror.   Kate was the bride-to-be of a Scottish lord... And what a lord, thought pretty, vivacious Kate. Allan MacAllander was tall, dark, filled with charm and good humor, the thirty-third in a line of fierce Scottish chieftains that stretched back for centuries. Kate loved this fascinating man who would soon be her husband, just as she loved the strange, dark, yet primitively beautiful land beside the sea which would be their home. But soon several incidents became a bit too strange. There was Nairne, Allan's handsome yet enigmatic cousin, whose kindness to Kate hid intentions at which she could only guess. There was Mairi, the servant girl, whose impertinence quickly turned to seething hostility. There was the mysterious child-woman who fled into the brush whenever Kate approached her. And above all, there was the whispered secret of the MacAllanders: a generations-old curse of insanity. Then tragedy struck close to Kate's heart, and she knew suddenly that a nameless, murderous hate now threatened her own life…

Leseprobe

The Darkness of Love

The Darkness of Love

© Vivian Stuart, 1977

© eBook in English: Jentas ehf. 2022

ISBN: 978-9979-64-487-3

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.

All contracts and agreements regarding the work, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas ehf.

ONE

Kate Penrose pulled into the roadside parking lot and switched off the engine. She stretched herself, easing her tired muscles and poured coffee from the thermos into a plastic mug. Bracken and Corrie, her two Scotch terriers who had been lying in the back seat, heads in paws, perked up. According to her road map she was nearly twenty miles from her destination, which on these roads would take her fully half an hour to reach.

She surveyed the wild scenery of this remote comer of Ross-shire with interest. It was the first time she had been so far north. Indeed, it was the first time she had been north of Edinburgh, where, only three months ago, she had met Allan. It was unbelievable—she was on her way to marry him.

He had quite literally swept her off her feet; a tall, dark, lean-faced man, four years older than herself, and the thirty-third chieftain of his line. There had been two lovely weeks in Edinburgh, and another three weeks with him at Sonning, where she lived with her uncle, Sam Penrose, her only living relative.

The fleeting thought of her uncle made her frown. He had raised her from her childhood, and was her friend as well as her uncle; but he had disliked Allan MacAllander from the start. Although Sam had been pleasant enough during the visit, he had made no secret of his mistrust after Allan had gone back home—to Gaildhu, where he lived with his widowed mother. One couldn’t have everything, Kate supposed, but it would have been more reassuring if Sam had taken a liking to her fiance.

She turned to fuss over the terriers before finishing the last of the coffee. The house, Gaildhu, was marked on the map, which pleased her ridiculously. Allan’s proper surname, he had told her, was MacAllander of Gaildhu. She was going to become Mrs. MacAllander of Gaildhu; that would put her on the map!

Eventually she reached the head of Loch Fada, a narrow sea loch some six miles long. Somewhere on her left, hidden by hills, was the house. She drove carefully along the narrow track about which Allan had warned her. It was only wide enough for one car at a time, with passing points about every four hundred yards. It was rough and uneven; she had to go slowly.

Then the house came into sight; a dark, stone building standing on a sparsely wooded hillside, overlooking the mouth of the loch. She had not realized that it would be so stark, or quite so exposed to the sea. It would certainly be a wild place on a stormy winter’s day. She glanced at her wrist watch and saw that it was almost four o’clock; it would soon be dusk.

There were worn stone gateposts with coats of arms carved on them, and then a drive lined with bushes and trees. She sounded her horn as she approached the house, and almost immediately he appeared in the doorway, wearing dark slacks and a white, open-necked shirt. He waved, and as she drew to a halt he ran down the steps to the car.

“Hi, darling. Welcome to Gaildhu.”

She got out and they kissed. He stood, arms round her waist, grinning happily.

“How was the journey—okay?”

“Fine, thanks. Do you think we might let Bracken and Corrie out now? They’re almost frantic.”

“Sure.”

He opened the rear door, and the two terriers scrambled out, yapping excitedly. He bent to scratch one behind the ears, and then straightened up.

“Let’s go in. Mother is eager to meet you. I’ll take your luggage up to your room later. I’m afraid we don’t run to much in the way of servants—just a cook and a maid; we’re lucky to have them.”

She tucked her arm into his and said appraisingly, “You look well, darling. Very brown.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time out of doors; last month we had unusually good weather. You look pretty good yourself. It’s hard to believe you’re going to marry me.”

He led her across an enormous hall, and into a room where a standard lamp had already been lit. A tall, grayhaired, erect woman got up from an armchair and came towards them.

“Mother, this is Kate. Kate, this is my mother.”

The women embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks. Kate liked the look of her prospective mother-in-law.

“Welcome home,” she greeted Kate. “I’ve heard so much about you; you’ve no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to. this meeting.”

“And I,” Kate agreed. “I was afraid you might not approve of our haste.”

Julia MacAllander laughed. “Not at all. Allan’s father didn’t waste any time either; we couldn’t get to the church quickly enough. He was killed in a road accident, as no doubt Allan told you. It’s been a long time ago now.”

“Yes, he did tell me . . . What a lovely room this is.”

“These old houses are difficult, as you’ll find out when you start to run this one, but I do my best. Allan, fetch in Kate’s luggage and I’ll ring for tea. Come and sit by the fire, my dear. It gets quite chilly about this time. We have central heating, but we like to have fires, too—they’re so cheerful, I always think. Now, let me get a proper look at you. What lovely, silky hair you have; it’s quite beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Kate flushed a little absurdly, pleased with the compliment.

The maid answered the bell, and was asked to bring in the tea things. She had only just gone out, when the door reopened and an attractive man came in. Kate was surprised; she had understood that Allan and his mother lived alone—he had said nothing about guests.

“Hullo, hullo, so this is the bride to be, is it?” He was smiling, and he had a well-modulated voice.

“Nairne! Kate, my dear, this is my nephew, Nairne Grant. He’s come to visit us.”

“How do you do,” Kate said.

“Allan didn’t do you justice at all,” he remarked, with a friendly grin. “Are those your two bloodhounds I saw scampering through the hall?”

“I forgot all about them. I’d better go . . .”

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “I escorted them to the kitchen where Mrs. Gair is feeding them this minute. What made you pick on Scotch terriers?”

“They’re fun dogs, I think.”

“Have you brought dogs?” Julia MacAllander asked.

“Didn’t Allan say anything? I have two, Bracken and Corrie. I couldn’t bear to part with them. It’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course—if Miss Tucker approves.”

“Miss Tucker?” Kate asked.

“Our cat,” Julia laughed. “Named after a governess Allan had when he was a child. She’s just had kittens.”

“The cat—not the governess,” Nairne said.

“I don’t think Bracken and Corrie will trouble her much. They’re used to cats about the house.”

A few minutes later Allan rejoined them, and then tea was brought in—a daunting spread of toast, scones, cakes and biscuits; Kate was hungry and glad to see it. Grant, she discovered, was two years older than Allan and was Julia MacAllander’s brother’s only child. Julia had been a Grant. He was a naturalist and the author of several books.

Inevitably her uncle’s name was mentioned. It was Julia who asked about him.

“Allan says he owns a supermarket—is that right?”

“Not exactly—they’re department stores: Penrose’s.”

“How very interesting.”

“It’s a big chain throughout the south of England,” Nairne amplified. “Does your uncle run it?” he asked Kate.

“Yes—he started with one shop when he was young.”

“There’s a success story for you. Was your father in the business, too?”

“No, my father was a tin miner in Malaya. He and my mother died out there when I was at prep school, and Uncle Sam brought me up.”

“It will be interesting to meet him. Is he coming up for the wedding?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“When are you going to announce a date?” Nairne asked.

“That’s one of the things we’ve got to decide,” Allan said, taking a hand in the conversation. “Before Christmas, anyway.”

There was a pause and Kate asked, “Do you get many tourists up here in summer?”

Allan shook his head. “No, not in this area. There’s no place for them to stay in the district. Sometimes one strays from the main road, and has to be redirected.”

“So there won’t be potato-crisp packets, coke bottles and cigarette wrappers littering the lochside,” she said, pleased.

“No, we’re spared that problem.”

The tone of his voice implied that he liked tourists as little as she did.

“If you’re ready,” Julia offered, “I’ll show you up to your room. I’m sure you want to freshen up after the journey.”

“Yes, please.”

They went upstairs together, along a dark corridor, and then into a surprisingly well-appointed bedroom.

“How big is the house?” Kate asked.

“Quite small, really—thank goodness. We’ve fifteen rooms, but one is used as a storeroom, and four are empty attic bedrooms. That leaves four rooms downstairs, and six bedrooms; more than enough.”

“And the help?”

“Mrs. Gair, the cook, lives in a cottage out at the back. Mairi, the maid whom you’ve met, lives with her parents in a croft just over the hill; she comes in daily. I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

“It looks just perfect.”

“There’s a bathroom across the passage, facing the door, and it’s yours. Nobody else will use it. That’s one thing my husband did, when he was alive—see that we had plenty of baths and loos. There are three upstairs, and a downstairs cloakroom under the staircase. I think you’ll find everything you want but ask if you need anything. And take your time—dinner isn’t till seven-thirty.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m really delighted about you,” Julia told her with disarming frankness. “Allan likes to bury himself in the country, and I often used to wonder how he was ever going to meet a nice girl to marry. Children can be a worry, you know, even when they’re grown up.”

“I’m glad to be here, too,” Kate smiled happily. “You’ve made me feel very welcome.”

To her surprise, Julia kissed her cheek.

“I hope you’ll be very happy,” she said, and was gone before Kate could reply.

Well, Kate thought, as she started unpacking, at least now I’ll know what people mean when they talk about Highland hospitality.

TWO

Despite the fact that it had been a tiring day, and that she and Allan had sat up late talking, Kate woke early next morning. It was dry but chilly, and she dressed in a tweed skirt and a heavy-knit sweater. She decided to walk on the grounds before breakfast, and give the dogs some exercise. To her surprise, she met Nairne Grant in the hall, putting on a fleece-lined coat.

“Hi there,” he called to her. “I didn’t expect to see you up this early. I’m just going out for a walk—care to join me?”

“Yes, I’ll get my coat.”

She put on a warm coat, her scarf and gloves, and got the dogs from the kitchen where they’d spent the night in a warm corner.

“How long have you been here?” she asked Nairne as they set out together. He was a tall, broad, dark-haired man, clean-shaven and with quiet manners; there was no family resemblance to either Allan or Julia.

“Only three days. This is my first visit.”

“Your first visit?” She looked up at him, taken aback. “You mean you’ve never been here before?”

“Correct.”

“But . . .”

He smiled at her bewilderment. “My father left Scotland many years ago, before I was born. I was actually born in Canada.”

“You don’t sound at all Canadian.”

“There’s no reason why I should. We left Canada when I was two, and I’ve never been back. My father and mother have lived all over the world. Now that Dad’s retired, they live in Australia. He always said he couldn’t stand coming back to the Scottish climate.”

“Do you mean he’s never been back since he left?”

“That’s right.”

“How odd.” That meant he hadn’t seen his sister for more than thirty years.

“Where did you pop up from?” she demanded.

“From Kenya. I was educated out there, and when I had the chance to go back I jumped at it. It’s a wonderful country, if you happen to like animals.”

“I’d love to see it,” she said a little wistfully.

“You like animals?”

“Yes—any sort. I love them all.”

He laughed good naturedly. “You sound like my kind of people. I don’t suppose you like golf, too, do you?”

“I’m mad about it. Why?”

“I just Wondered. This is my first visit to Britain, you know.”

“Honestly? You sound very English.”

“All. my friends at school and college were English; the accent has stuck.”

“What did your father do?”

“All sorts of things,” he told her. “Prospecting, mining; he was a game warden for a while—he’s a qualified vet, though he never practised. Then ten years ago he started up a mineral water factory in Australia, which has now been sold.”

“Will you be visiting Britain for long?” His background fascinated her.

“Yes. I’ve been offered a university appointment which I’ve accepted. I start work in the New Year.”

“Where will you be?”

“In London. I have to go back south in a day or two to look at a couple of houses, and then I’ll return here for another holiday—and for the wedding, naturally. My aunt got quite a surprise when I wrote that I was in London and intended visiting them.”

“I bet she did,” Kate laughed.

“Perhaps when I come back we can find the nearest golf course? Allan doesn’t play, incidentally.”

“Yes, I’m going to have to do something about that,” she laughed. “I’d be glad to play with you. My uncle and I play three times a week.”

“What did you do, exactly?”

“I kept house for him,” she answered, “and in addition I dealt with all his private correspondence which he kept at home. I’m a trained secretary. It was a nice life. I was very lucky having him for an uncle.”

“You sound good friends.”

“We are,” she smiled. “Very good friends. He’s semiretired, now. He’ll never really retire, but he takes things easy nowadays and spends most of his time at home . . . What about you, though? Are the Grants a local family?”

“Not at all—leastways not my lot. Our family come from near Aberdeen. I’ve no idea how Aunt Julia met her husband. The fact is that I know hardly anything about them.”

They had turned along the lochside, and were following a rough path leading to the mouth of the loch. It was blustery and Kate was glad of her coat and scarf.

“Bleak, isn’t it?” Nairne remarked.

“I don’t mind,” she said defensively. “It has a lot of charm.”

“It’s not the sort of countryside I’m. used to . . . Have you been abroad much?”

“Not a lot. I was bom in Malaya, and I’ve had one or two holidays on the continent.”

He asked her about her early life, and she told him about it while the dogs ran backwards and forwards, barking their pleasure. Nairne walked quietly beside her, his hands in the pockets of his coat. Eventually he asked, “How long have you known Allan?”

“A few months. I came up to Edinburgh in June, to visit some friends there, and through them I met Allan at a party. It was my first visit to Scotland,” she added with a smile. “It turned out to be a lucky one.”

“For Allan, certainly,” he agreed quietly.

‘Tor both of us.”

“And after Edinburgh?” he urged.

“My uncle invited Allan to visit us in Sonning, and he stayed for three weeks; that’s when we became engaged.”

“Quick work.”

She stopped and faced him. “It isn’t like botany, you know. You don’t have to study someone for years to know if you love them.”

“My specialty’s natural science, not botany; and yes, I know. I wasn’t criticizing.”

His voice was calm, restrained, and she felt herself flushing. Why had she gotten defensive with him, she wondered? She didn’t usually.

“It sounded like it,” she said half-heartedly.

“Then I apologise . . . Look over there.” He stopped and pointed. She saw a ruined building, the stones blackened. “It’s an old burned-out croft. I wonder what its story is.”

“Need it have one?” she asked, glad the subject had changed.

“Everything has a story,” he assured her. “Fires don’t usually start of their own accord. Did someone leave a cigarette burning? Did some peat fall out of the fireplace during the night? Did the crofter want the insurance money so that he could have a binge in Inverness? Was it summer or winter, day or night? Aren’t you at all curious?”

“I wasn’t, but now I am, thanks to you,” she laughed.

“I suppose all this is Allan’s,” he mused. “Presumably the crofter was a tenant.”

“I wonder if they have many tenants,” she said, half to herself.

“There are only two crofts that I know of,” he told her. “One of them is tenanted by the MacDonalds—that’s the maid’s family. The house in on the other side of the hill. The other croft I don’t know much about. There’s the cottage the cook lives in, of course. I suppose Allan has to live on capital. The land around here doesn’t look worth much to me. Picturesque, if you like desolation.”

She flushed as she listened. He had no business criticising his relatives—particularly to her.

“Allan farms,” she said shortly.

“Yes, he has some sheep grazing over the other side of the loch, there. I know he has two shepherds working for him, but that doesn’t sound like much to me. Mind you, I spent many years in Australia, where everything is on the grand scale.”

“I shouldn’t think there’s any comparison at all,” she told him with asperity.

“It’s all right,” he laughed, and tucked his arm through hers. “I’m not tearing them to bits. Like you, I’m a stranger here—and I have a curious turn of mind, I suppose. These are my only living relatives, apart from Mother and Dad, and I want to know all about them.”

He smiled down at her, and added gently, “And now you are going to be added to the clan—and a very lovely addition, too.”

“Thank you.”

“One thing puzzles me, though. Has Allan ever mentioned a sister to you?”

“No—he’s an only child.”

“Did he actually say that to you?” Nairne demanded.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because my father distinctly mentioned that there was a girl as well as Allan; and when I asked Allan about her, there was a frosty silence; then he and my aunt told me Allan was the only child. You’d think my father would know how many children his sister had, wouldn’t you?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes—but they haven’t met for years. He never even met Allan’s father, did he?”

“True. I suppose Dad got mixed up—but with what? With whom?”

“People do get their facts confused,” she pointed out.

They had reached the end of the promontory, which was a sheer drop on to jagged rocks about sixty feet below. Beyond, the sea was grey and cheerless. After a bit, Nairne looked at his watch.

“We ought to be getting back for breakfast, I suppose. I must say I’ve got an appetite.”

“I’m starving. Are you going to be in London for very long?”

“I don’t think so. Perhaps a couple of weeks, and then I’m coming back for a holiday—and for the wedding, as I said.”

“Do you have some place to live—in London, I mean?” “I’m in the process of getting a house—I’ll be in a hotel for a little while, first.”

“Have you actually found a house?”

“I have the offer of two. I haven’t decided vet. I wonder,” he said hesitantly, “if when I’m in London I might visit your uncle? Sonning isn’t far off, is it?”

“Not very. Yes, why don’t you do that?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not in the least,” she laughed. “You’re Allan’s cousin. Uncle Sam will be delighted to meet you. I’ll write down the address and phone number; I’ll write him to say you’ll be in touch.”

“That’s very kind of you. You see, I don’t know anybody, really, and London can be very lonely. It will be good to have someone to visit.”

They walked back to the house in silence, the dogs chasing ahead of them, Nairne’s hand still through her arm. When they went into the hall, he said, “I enjoyed walking with you, Kate. I hope we’ll meet a lot after you’re married.”

“Naturally. I’ll be very annoyed if you disappear again, now that you’ve found us,” she replied.

“Er . . . Kate.”

“Yes?”

“I get up early every morning, and go for a walk. It’s a lifelong habit. Always glad of company.”

“Thank you. I’ll remember.”

“Good.”

He stood smiling after her; she went up to her room to wash and brush her hair. She was glad of his presence. It would be pleasant when he came back; they could walk, and play a little golf. Meantime she must go to the library to get hold of some of his books.

THREE

Allan came down to breakfast dressed in a dark suit. He was an extremely handsome man, with a neat, dark moustache, and dark, wavy hair. He looked like a young edition of Ronald Colman (whom she had seen recently in an old TV movie), and Kate’s face lit up at the sight of him.

Nairne, in a sweater and cord slacks, remarked on his being dressed up, and Allan grinned.

“This is my best city suit. I’m going into Dingwall after breakfast; I thought I might take Kate along. It will give her a chance to see the countryside and do some shopping.”

“That would be lovely,” Kate agreed immediately.

“Fine. That’s settled.

“Nairne and I went out for a walk,” Kate told him. “I didn’t realise that you only met for the first time a day or two ago.”

“That’s right.” Allan glanced at Nairne and then looked back at Kate. “Never before—he’s a complete stranger.”

“It was such a lovely surprise when he turned up,” Julia laughed. “Imagine—I’d never seen my only nephew. Such a lot of excitement,” she added charmingly. “A bride coming to Gaildhu, and a family reunion too.”

Excitement? Kate thought; she had a vivid picture of the house, then, standing bleak and lonely at the mouth of the loch. It must be dull at times, with only the mother and son. Just wait till she and Allan had children; the place would be filled with noise and bustle, as a home ought to be.

Casually she said, “Nairne was telling me he knows so little about you that he thought Allan had a sister.”

There was an immediate stillness. It only lasted a matter of seconds, but she had time to note Nairne’s face, brooding, expressionless, Allan’s outthrust lower lip and Julia’s look of dismay.

“A sister?” Julia said falteringly.

Allan became brisk. “Yes, that’s right, darling. Apparently Uncle Andrew said something which Nairne misunderstood.”

“Oh, I didn’t misunderstand anything,” Nairne corrected. “I didn’t misunderstand at all. The mistake, if mistake there was, was Dad’s.”

“What do you mean—‘if mistake there was’?” Allan demanded, scowling.

“Just a manner of speaking. What I meant to say was that my father must have got his facts confused. That’s all.”

“How strange.” Julia’s brightness was brittle. “Of course, we haven’t met for a very long time, you know. Andrew left before I’d even met Gordon, and we’ve only kept in touch by occasional letters since then. To tell the truth, I had to ask Nairne if he had any brothers or sisters—didn’t I. Nairne?”

“You did,” he agreed, pleasantly, “and I haven’t. It seems Allan and I are the last of the Mohicans.”

Everyone continued to eat in silence, and Kate was puzzled by the unmistakable “atmosphere” which had descended on the breakfast table. Afterwards she and Allan went out to the garages—converted stables.

“We’ll take the estate car,” he remarked idly.

“Oh, is that yours? I thought it might be Nairne’s.”

“No, that and the Land Rover are mine. I’ve no use for fancy cars up here.”

She had caught herself hoping that the long, low, gleaming white snorts car might be theirs. Now she recalled that both at Edinburgh and Sonning he had travelled from home by train. The estate car and the Land Rover were old and shabby. As if he could read her thoughts. he said, “We live differently here. We need strong things which last. Appearance doesn’t count for much. That ..he gestured to the sports car “. . . would be about as much good to me as roller skates.”

“I understand perfectly, darling.”

“If you’d rather, we can go in your car,” he suggested.

“Don’t be silly—it doesn’t matter,” she laughed.

He kissed her on the lips. They got into the car and drove off.

“I thought we might go to see Jack Johnstone in Dingwall—that’s my solicitor,” he said casually.

“Oh yes? Why?”

“We might as well get the wills drawn up now.”

“Wills?”

“Surely it’s the usual thing for people who are getting married to draw up wills in one another’s favour? If I die, everything I have comes to you; and if you die,” he added humorously, “I’ll get your car and it will save me buying a new one.”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Yes, of course.”

“Anyway, you have to meet Jack sometime. I have frequent dealings with him.”

“Okay.”