Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

" O h, it is you," Jamie said scornfully as he looked up at the individual who had just walked cautiously into his study. He had been perusing the account books, a complete waste of time because he had no idea what the columns of numbers meant. "What do you want? Do you have information for me?"

The man in front of him shifted from foot to foot and smiled nervously at him. "Aye, M'Laird," he replied, then squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "One o' your deer has been killed an' eaten. I spoke tae some o' the village folk an' they say it was your sister that did it. They said that she didnae want tae take credit for it, though, an' said it wisnae her that did it."

Jamie felt a boiling anger well up within him. "My sister is always messing about with those bloody people! But it can't have been her who killed the beast because she has no idea how to use a bow and arrow."

"Somebody else could have done it, M'Laird," the man suggested. "On her behalf, like. A lot o' people like her an' would be happy tae help her."

"Damn!" Jamie thumped his fist onto the desk so hard that the loud bang made the man jump. His face was almost purple with rage. "The interfering wench! The game on my estate is mine !"

The man looked at the floor, too afraid to raise his eyes to the Laird. He was beginning to cringe and unconsciously move backwards. Jamie jumped up and moved around the desk so quickly that the man barely had time to move. The Laird pushed him up against the wall and opened his mouth to give the terrified man another tirade when there was a firm rap on the door.

"Listen to me," Jamie growled, letting go of his spy. "You will not be paid until I get some information about whoever shot that deer. No one is going to steal from me. Now get out!" He wrenched the door open and thrust the man outside and he almost collided with the tall, gaunt figure who stood on the other side.

Jamie glared at the big man from under his lowered brows. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Not a very polite way to greet a guest," came a deep, dry voice. "My name is Alan Darroch. I am a cousin of your late father, and one of the elders of his clan. I have come to give you some advice."

Jamie stepped aside to let the big man into the room, then ushered him into a chair in front of the desk, scowling fiercely.

"Jamie Darroch," he said, doing his best to be polite. He sat down, but Alan Darroch's presence was very intimidating, and he found himself swallowing nervously as a pair of deep green eyes bored into his. He pasted a smile onto his face. "Would you like a glass of whisky before we talk?"

Alan scowled at him. "Nor at this time of day, M'Laird ," he replied. His sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘Laird' was not lost on Jamie. "Perhaps later, after I have eaten. That is the proper time for whisky, don't you think? But this is your castle, so I can't tell you what to do."

Jamie put the whisky bottle down, feeling about two feet tall. "Of course," he agreed, then sat down. "What can I do for you?"

"When your father took over this estate it was a jewel," Alan said, putting his elbows on the desk and leaning forward for emphasis. "It ran well, the tenants were happy, and the land was productive. Look at it now. It is falling to pieces." He leaned back in his chair again to give Jamie another intimidating stare out of narrowed eyes, and Jamie was reminded of a snake that was about to strike.

At that moment, Alan Darroch's gaze fell on the account ledgers. Jamie panicked and slammed his hands down on the books, trying to drag them towards himself, but it was too late. Alan's grip was much stronger than his and he wrested the books out of Jamie's grasp without much of an effort.

Jamie watched as he scrutinized all the columns of figures minutely, seeing his face reddening and his expression growing more and more thunderous by the second. Eventually he looked up. "Is this your only ledger?" he asked. There was a dangerous throb of barely restrained anger in his voice.

Jamie shook his head. He had assumed a collected, composed posture, seated primly behind the desk with his elbows leaning on it, hands clasped together, head held high. "No, of course not." He allowed a trace of indignation to creep into his voice.

"May I see the others?" Darroch asked politely.

"No, you may not," Jamie replied in the same tone.

"I see." Darroch's tone was one of resignation. This was the answer he had expected. Sadly, apart from physically dragging Jamie out of the castle and giving him the sound thrashing he so richly deserved, there was nothing he could do about it. He had been told what to expect, but the reality was much worse than he had imagined. "If all the rest of your accounts are as much in shambles as these ones are, then I suggest you hire a steward."

Jamie smiled smugly. "I have one. He works for me and he worked for my father too."

"Then fire him and employ someone who can do the job properly!" Alan thundered. "Good God, lad! Look at the state this place is in! Walls crumbling, weeds running riot everywhere, roofs falling in. When was the last time you got out of your chair and had a look around this place? Your father seized this estate when the mistress of the castle was still in mourning, and the place was in good condition. Presumably he had some idea of using it for something. Are you just going to sit here and let it rot? Your tenants are suffering - have you no means to help them or are you already bankrupt? Open your coffers to your people, for God's sake! Let them work the land - it will pay you in the end."

"When it is your estate, then you can tell me what to do!" Jamie spat. "You and my sister must be in league with each other - she never stops giving me wise counsel either, even though she has no clue what she is talking about!" His voice was bitter. "Now, is there anything else you came to say before you go?"

Alan Darroch stood up. "I will inform the chief in Dundee of your words," he said grimly. "He may want to come and see you himself."

Jamie swallowed nervously. "Then I will be ready for him, but I doubt he will waste his valuable time on me."

"You will hear from us again," Andrew Darroch growled. He gave Jamie a scathing, top-to-toe glare then swept out.

Once alone, Jamie's knees became so weak he almost fell over. He stumbled to the chair, but not before grabbing the whisky, and flopped down into it. After a few seconds he tilted the bottle to his mouth and took a long swallow, then he coughed as the fiery liquid burnt a path down his throat.

After a few moments, when he could breathe again, he sat up and wiped his streaming eyes then gave a satisfied smile. That had gone well, the thought. He had sent the big, self-opinionated elder away with his tail between his legs and he was very proud of himself. Then something occurred to him.

‘What harm would it do for the tenants to see me?' he thought suddenly. ‘It will give them a chance to see their Laird and master and perhaps have some more respect for me.'

Having thought about it for a few more moments, he decided to do it. He left the castle on average once a week, and then only to meet and carouse with friends at Mulrigg House, one of their homes. This was also where he met and bedded many of his female conquests. He liked to think he was a good lover, but in reality he was a laughing stock, nearly always too drunk to do his duty.

His excursion was greeted with some surprise by the stable hands, who had saddled his horse for him only two days before. However, his horse was swiftly readied and he cantered away into the village with four guards as escorts.

Minna had watched the arrival of Alan Darroch and wondered who he was. He was well and expensively dressed and carried himself with an air of assurance that marked him out as a man of some consequence. She had debated about whether to go downstairs and introduce herself to him.

"Should I go and present myself to him, Lorna?" she asked her friend. "I am sure he is going to see Jamie and I don't want him to think that the whole family is like my brother."

Lorna thought for a moment, then nodded. "Aye, it might be a good idea, hen," she agreed. "It cannae dae any harm, an' if he is a person o' any importance it might actually dae some good."

Accordingly, Minna put on one of her best day dresses. A modestly cut blue woolen one that brought out the color of her eyes, descended the staircase, then walked sedately towards her brother's study, greeting staff as she went.

"Do you know who that important-looking man is, Gerald?" she asked the butler.

"He told me it was Alan Darroch, an elder o' the clan, Mistress Minna," he replied respectfully.

Minna thanked him and went to wait outside Jamie's study, but halfway down the passageway that led to it she was almost knocked over by a tall, dark man in his middle years. He had such a furious expression on his face that as Minna stumbled she widened her eyes in fear.

Presently, however, the man grabbed her wrists and steadied her. He looked ashamed, and as she dusted herself down he began to apologize profusely. "Forgive me, Mistress," he said regretfully. "I was not looking where I was going. Are you hurt?"

Minna gave him a dazzling smile, and Alan Darroch smiled back, slightly bemused. Who was this beautiful woman?

"I am fine, thank you," she replied. "Were you here to see my brother?"

"You are the Laird's sister?" he asked in disbelief.

"I see you have met him." Minna's tone was sarcastic.

"Yes," Darroch nodded, then paused before saying anything else. He did not wish to make matters worse. "We spoke. I am sorry, I was forgetting my manners."

"Tell me what he said, if you don't mind," Minna urged. "Judging by the look on your face it was not anything pleasant."

As she spoke, she was leading him towards a small parlor where a cozy fire was burning. "Ale, wine or whisky?" she asked as she ushered him into a seat.

"I have already refused whisky," he replied, shaking his head, "so ale would be wonderful. I have a mighty thirst."

Minna ordered ale for both of them and when it was brought, she closed the door of the parlor and sat opposite to him. "You asked him to manage the estate better?" she asked bluntly.

"How did you know?" Darroch asked, sipping his ale.

"I have begged him so many times before, to no avail," she replied, sighing. "What did he say?"

"He said he would only discuss it with the chief." Darroch answered.

"Stubborn and arrogant," she sighed. "If he refused you, he will refuse me again, so I will not waste my breath. Thank you for coming, Sir. If you would, could you go through the village on your way home?"

"I have already been there." Darroch said grimly.

Minna wondered if she should tell him about her nightly excursions, but in the end decided not to, since there was no reason for him to know.

Alan Darroch looked at the beautiful young sister of the odious Jamie Darroch and wondered how they could possibly have come from the same family.

They chatted amiably for a while before Alan had to leave, but he insisted that he was in too much of a hurry to stay for lunch. However, Minna would not hear of him going without some sustenance, so she packed some food for his ride back to Dundee.

"If I have to send for the chief then I will," he said. "But I would rather it did not come to that. He has better things to do than waste his time on your brother. Your father was a renegade too. His greed is how all this business started - I hope I am not offending you, Mistress."

"Not at all," Minna stated firmly. "There is a way to fix this. We just have to find it. Let us keep in touch, and thank you for coming. It is good to know that someone cares."

Alan bowed, then smiled at her. "I thought that I had had a wasted journey, Mistress, but since we met and talked, I realize that one very good thing came out of it. I met you, and you have given me hope. Thank you."

"Thank you too, sir," she answered. "Have a safe journey home."

Minna watched him as he rode away. What a kind, straightforward and intelligent man he was. If only her brother were more like him!