The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)(22)

He put a finger lightly on her lips.

"There's nae danger of that, I've tellt ye already. I take my wedding vows seriously. Forsaking all others. Unlike yourself."

"What!"

"Ye promised to obey, as I remember."

"Oh, that," she said, relaxing back. "Well, I do, mostly. Some of the time, anyway. I have good intentions."

"Do ye now?" he said. "Well I dinna. And I'll thank ye to obey me, by … "

The rest of the sentence was muffled as he drew the blankets up over them both. Feminine giggles drifted out from under the covers as she did, indeed, obey him for once, with enthusiasm. With the result that they both overslept the following morning.





CHAPTER FIVE


The MacDonalds arrived the next day. Beth had expected maybe two or three of her nearest relations to come, but as they started to make their way down the hill to the MacGregor settlement, led by their piper and clad in plaids of various hues, a sprig of heather in their bonnets and armed as though for war, she realised that there were a good many more than that; about thirty or so, at a rough estimate. They greeted the MacGregor chieftain warmly, allaying Beth's fears that they had come to raid rather than celebrate, then turned to Beth.

"You'll be the bride, then," one of them, a stocky swarthy man with dark hair and beard said to her. It was not a question, and she wondered how he knew, because Alex had not yet introduced her, and she was standing amidst a group of other women. The MacDonald saw her perplexity and smiled.

"Ye've the look of the clan about ye," he explained.

As all the members of the clan so far appeared to be brown or red-haired, and stocky of build, this puzzled Beth even more.

"What Donald means is you look like your mother, and your grandmother, and all her kin," clarified his wife, who had made her way to his side, a small child balanced comfortably on her hip. "They all have the same hair, and are small and feeble-looking, like yourself. We used to say they were changelings."

Alex cast his wife a warning look, willing her not to react, but she hardly noticed the comment, being so delighted that there were others who resembled her amongst the clan, even if they had chosen not to attend the wedding celebrations.

"They're no' feeble, though, whatever their appearance," remarked another man. "Christ, they can be stubborn, vicious bastards when crossed!"

"That's Beth's family all right, then," said Angus from somewhere in the background, and everyone laughed.

Formal greetings over with, the MacDonalds repaired to the various homes they were to stay in to freshen up and have something to eat. Beth wandered off with Alex to their house, with Duncan and Angus following behind. The actual wedding party was fixed for tomorrow, but there would be a good deal of alcohol drunk tonight. Alex had a dual purpose in inviting the MacDonalds; as well as pleasing his wife, it would improve cordial relations between the two clans, always a good thing when the mutual Campbell enemy was so strong and numerous. Having said that, Beth's look of ecstasy as she skipped along beside him was on its own worth all the extra food and whisky that would be consumed over the next couple of days.                       
       
           



       

"It's a shame that none of my actual direct blood kin could come," Beth said as they arrived home.

"They are coming," said Alex. "They've just taken the longer route, that's all."

"Are they?" cried Beth. "That's wonderful! I wonder why they've taken the long route?"

"Because one of them's as bloody-minded as yourself," Alex said, but in spite of her cajoling, would not explain further, saying only that she would see why for herself in an hour or so when they turned up.



She did. When they arrived there were five of them, two men and three women, and they were in a carriage of sorts, which was why they'd taken the long way. Any thoughts that this might be due to some misguided delusion of grandeur was dispelled when the two men, both flaxen-haired and slender of build, leapt down from the coach, and with great care and tenderness assisted a woman down to the ground. The other two women jumped down unassisted. They were also blonde, although their hair was more honey-coloured than silver.

The woman they were assisting was silver-haired, but this was due to her extreme age. Even so, once safely on the ground she stood unaided, frail but erect, her blue eyes shrewd and intelligent as she surveyed the settlement and the people who had come out to greet her on hearing the coach. Beth, who was amongst them, and who in fact had been glued to the doorway listening for their arrival ever since Alex's enigmatic words, gasped. This woman was so like her mother, or like her mother would have been had she lived to old age, that the sight of her brought tears to Beth's eyes. She felt Alex's comforting hand on her shoulder and swallowed back the tears. Then she moved forward to greet her relation, trying to work out who she could possibly be. Her mother, who would have been fifty-four now, had she lived, had had no sisters, and this woman was older than that anyway, maybe seventy. Her great-aunt, perhaps? Yet Beth's grandmother, after whom Beth was named, had been thirty when Ann was born, and had been the youngest of her family.

"Fàilte. Tha mi toilichte ur coinneachadh," Beth began. She was pleased to meet the old lady, even if she didn't know the exact relationship between them.

The woman smiled warmly. Her face, although deeply lined still showed clearly that she had once been beautiful, had looked like the young woman standing before her. As Beth would no doubt one day look like her, if she was lucky enough to live so long.

"Halò, m'ogha. Tha mi toilichte do coinneachadh cuideachd."

Beth's eyes widened in disbelief. She could not have heard right. The blond man standing at the old lady's side spoke now for the first time.

"Seo do sheanmhair, Ealasaid," he said gently.

Her grandmother?

"But I thought you were dead!" Beth cried, and then blushed. "I mean … "

"I'm no' dead yet." Beth's grandmother laughed. Her voice was clear and strong. "Although I thought at times the road would finish me off. I think I would have done better to ride, after all! No, mo chridhe," she continued in a softer voice, "I was transported to the colonies a few years after the massacre of ‘92, because I wouldna accept what the authorities had done and be grateful to be allowed to return to my ravaged home. I only came back a few years ago. But we can talk of this later. We have a lot to say to each other, I think." She reached out and gently caressed Beth's cheek with a trembling hand. "You are so like Ann," she whispered.

And then they were embracing, and crying, after which Alex offered the old lady his arm, and gallantly led her to his house, where she was assisted upstairs to gratefully lie down for a time on the bed which was normally shared by Angus and Duncan, but which they had temporarily vacated in favour of Iain and Maggie's house. The MacDonalds would have been insulted if such an honoured guest had not been accommodated in the chieftain's house.



"I'm just glad that Alexander didna come," said Alex an hour or two later. "If he had, he'd have had to be accommodated in our house as well, being the chief, and it would have been a wee bit difficult."

They had gone out for a while, ostensibly to leave the old lady in peace, but also to have a little time together to talk before the wedding and the duties of hospitality swept away all chance of any time alone for several days. They were sitting on a fallen tree near the lochside, watching the sun set over the water.

"We could have slept downstairs," Beth said.

"Aye, but that's no' what I meant," Alex replied. "Ye'll be wanting some time to chat quietly wi' your grandmother, I'm thinking, and the MacDonald is a braw man, a brave warrior, and a great wit. But he's a wee bit larger than life, if you take my meaning, and no' one for quiet chats by the fire."                       
       
           



       

"I can't believe she's still alive," said Beth, dismissing the MacDonald chief from her mind. "She must be eighty-five. Mother told me that she was arrested in 1694 with some others, for killing a group of government soldiers, and died in prison of a fever. Mother was brought up by her aunt after that. I can't understand it. Why weren't they told if she was transported? And why didn't she let the clan know she was alive?"

"It's probably because the situation was verra sensitive at the time. The government were seriously embarrassed when the news got out that they'd at least condoned, if not actually ordered the massacre of the MacDonalds, who had, after all already submitted to the crown. King Billy had intended to transport all the survivors to the colonies, but there was such an outcry he changed his mind. No doubt it was more politic to let the world know that the arrested MacDonalds had died of natural causes rather than that they were being transported for taking revenge against those who had butchered their kin. But as for why your grandmother didna tell anyone she wasna dead, ye'll have to ask her that yourself."