His Lady of Castlemora(19)

Chapter Nine


Being so caught up in his thoughts he found sleep elusive that night.  Around him other men snored and grunted. Somewhere in the darkness  outside he heard an owl hoot; an ill omen according to country folk,  presaging doom and death. It was a foolish notion. He forced it away and  drew the blanket higher.

When sleep eventually came to him it was disturbed by troubled dreams.  In them he was running through thick mist, while ever before him went  the elusive figure of a woman. She had her back to him so he could not  see who she was. However, he knew he must follow and find her, but  whenever he drew near enough to touch her she would vanish into the mist  again. Each time the sense of loss intensified until it achieved the  acuteness of physical pain. Distress and loneliness increased  unbearably. He knew that if he could find the woman then he would be all  right, that she held the key to things he did not yet understand. He  had to find her. He stumbled on in desperation and through the pale  swirling vapour he heard her call his name...

'Lord Ban! Lord Ban!'                       
       
           



       

He woke in the grey dawn light to find Jock shaking him by the shoulder.

'Wake up, my lord! You must come quickly!'

'What is it?' he muttered. 'What's the matter?'

'Archibald Graham is dead.'

'What!'

Coming instantly awake, Ban stared at him in stunned surprise. 'Dead?'

'Aye, my lord. It seems he passed away in the night,' Jock went on.  'When his servant went in this morning he thought the old man was still  sleeping, but the body was already cold. I had it from the steward.'

Ban leapt to his feet and began to pull on his clothing, his expression  grim. This news would be a grievous blow to Isabelle. It would be a  grievous blow for all concerned. Worse was the knowledge he couldn't put  it right. The best he could do was to offer some poor words of comfort.

On reaching the courtyard a few minutes later it became apparent that  the news of Graham's demise had spread, sending shock waves through  Castlemora. Already they could hear the shrill keening of women, and  groups of men stood without the hall in dismayed surprise or else  exchanged huddled whispers. Gritting his teeth Ban threaded his way  through them. When he reached the hall he saw Hugh there with Murdo at  his side. Ignoring the latter he turned at once to the new laird.

'I have just heard the ill news, my lord. Pray accept my condolences. I know I speak for Glengarron too in this matter.'

'I thank you,' replied Hugh. From the whiteness of his cheek it was  evident that he too was still in shock, and just now coming to realise  the implications of his father's demise.

'On behalf of Glengarron, and on account of the deep ties between our  houses, my men and I would wish to join you in paying our final respects  to your honoured father.'

'I thank you for your courtesy, my lord.'

Ban inclined his head in acknowledgement to Hugh and ignored the cold  stare from Murdo. If the other man objected to his presence, that was  too bad. Fortunately he had no say in the matter.

'Pray offer my condolences to the Lady Isabelle.'

Hugh nodded. 'I shall do so. She keeps to her quarters at present. This news has hit her hard.'

'Of course. Your father was a great man. He will be much missed.'

'That he will, my lord. I little thought to take his place so soon. I hope I can live up to his expectations.'

'I think there is no doubt of that,' said Ban.

Hugh summoned a faint smile. 'I'll do my best.'

With that he moved on to speak to the other men gathered there. Ban drew off to one side with Jock.

'Now what, my lord?'

'We stay and pay our last respects to Archibald Graham.'

'Aye, he was a good laird by all accounts.'

'I imagine the funeral will be tomorrow.'

'Will we be leaving after?'

'Not immediately. There are matters I must attend to first.'

'As you will, my lord.'

In truth Ban had no clear idea yet how he was going to deal with the  situation. He didn't know if Archibald Graham had informed Hugh of the  secret betrothal. If he hadn't, it was going to make things exceedingly  awkward. There must already be speculation about his extended stay at  Castlemora. It was difficult to see how he could remain longer without  declaring his interest. At the same time Isabelle was going to need time  to come to terms with her father's loss. Ban was no stranger to grief  and he knew all too well what she must be feeling now. More than ever he  wanted to speak with her.

* * *

Unfortunately his wish was disappointed. He waited around for the rest  of the morning hoping for a glimpse of her but she did not appear. In  the end he gave it up. Probably she didn't want to speak to anyone at  present. Leaving the company he took himself off, needing a little space  himself to reflect and consider what he was going to do next.

He headed for the orchard. It was pleasant and private and well suited  to his present mood. The place also had associations with Archibald  Graham since it was here they had come to discuss Ban's betrothal to  Isabelle. He smiled ruefully. The old man's intimations of impending  death had been accurate after all.

Ban made his way among the trees, laden now with ripening fruit, and  then checked abruptly as he realised he wasn't alone. A woman was  standing by the wall. She had her back to him, apparently looking at the  view beyond, but he knew her at once. Suddenly he wondered if his  presence here might be intrusive; perhaps she too had wanted time apart.  He hesitated.                       
       
           



       

'Isabelle?'

She turned abruptly. Her face was pale and he could see that she had  been crying. In that moment she appeared younger than before and  intensely vulnerable.

'I'm so sorry.' He crossed the intervening space to join her. 'This has been a terrible shock.'

'I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to him.'

'His passing was swift and painless. Take comfort from that.'

'I do and yet I would have him back again.' Water sprang to her eyes and she looked away.

'It is hard to lose a parent, to lose any of your kin.'

'My mother died when I was young. I have only vague recollections of  her. My father was always the heart of Castlemora for me.' She swallowed  hard. 'We did not always see eye to eye and he was not one to show his  feelings openly, but I believe he cared for me, loved me in his way.'

'I am certain of it.'

'I cannot believe he is really gone. When I sat with him it was as  though he were only sleeping; that if I reached out and touched him he  would wake. But he did not.'

The words ended in another flow of tears. Ban's jaw tightened. However,  he said nothing just then, knowing there was nothing he could say.  Instead he put his arms round her and stroked her bright hair as she  wept on his shoulder. It went on for some time but he made no attempt to  stop her. Grief needed an outlet.

Eventually the tears abated and she drew away a little in evident confusion, drying her face again.

'I'm sorry. I think your tunic must be as damp as my sleeve now.'

'It doesn't matter,' he replied. 'A tunic and a sleeve will dry. Sorrow takes longer to deal with.'

'You have known your fair share of sorrow, have you not?'

'Indeed, though the sight of yours hurts me too.'

The words drew a wan smile. 'I thank you for your kindness, my lord.'

Her gratitude smote him as hard as her tears. Kindness hadn't been the  motivational force in his behaviour thus far. It had a distinctly  exploitative quality that didn't make for comfortable viewing. Her  plight had always been unenviable; today it had become a whole lot worse  and for that he was partly responsible.

* * *

The funeral took place with all due solemnity. It wasn't until she stood  by the open grave that her father's death achieved the status of fact  in her own mind. It was still hard to imagine a world in which he didn't  figure. He had always been there, ultimately a strong, protective  presence even if they hadn't always been in accord. Now he was gone and,  somehow, life went on.

However, it was only as she received the condolences of others that she  began truly to appreciate how respected a figure her father had been,  and how big were the shoes her brother must endeavour to fill. The  thought of what lay ahead for him made her feel deeply anxious. Her gaze  flicked once towards Murdo. His expression revealed nothing of what was  passing through his mind, but with her father out of the way the  master-at-arms would certainly try to increase his grip on affairs here.  Would Hugh be his own man? Would he be able to keep Murdo in check? It  seemed like a tall order.

Ban was a reassuring presence. He had been considerate and kind, more so  than she might once have anticipated. It was an unexpected side to his  character. He had shown no impatience with her tears and he had been  quietly supportive of Hugh. It wasn't an easy situation but he hadn't  shirked it. Nor did he neglect his public duty now.