When Fate Dictates

  “He could have done it with the backing of France,” Simon said, holding a filled mug of ale up to his friend. “Isn’t that right Thomas?”

  “Aye, my friend, that he could, but sadly I don’t think he will try again anytime soon.”

  “There is nothing we can do to change it, Thomas,” I said quietly.

  “Aye, Corran you are right. We cannot change what has happened.”

  “But we could have tried, if we had known he was coming,” said Simon solemnly.

  I frowned at him. “We have enough trouble here Simon; we don’t need to get involved in this fight. Let it be, please?”

  “Don’t worry, Corran, there is nothing to be done now. The British forces saw the French fleet off and James is now safely home in France. As I said, you are right, we can’t change it now.”

  “How is Miriam?” I said changing the subject and turning my attention back to our friend. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

  “She is well, thank you.”

  “How is Shannon? She had a bit of a fight with Duncan yesterday. I think it was as much one as the other. Duncan picked her a flower to apologize for the fight but she refused it.”

  “Aye, she can be a bit of a handful can our Shannon. Tell the wee lad not to worry about it.”

  I smiled, recalling his face when the girl had shouted, ‘You Duncan Lamont can go to hell if you think a flower will make up for pulling my hair.’

  “Anyway, Thomas, I must get back to some work. Please do tell Miriam I was asking after her; I will try and pop in later in the week to see her.”

  Opening the front door, I had hoped to find Duncan playing in the stream that ran down the side of our house, but he was not there. “Duncan!” I called, hoping that I was not going to have to put my boots on and tramp halfway around the farm looking for him. The sun was setting and it was time the boy was indoors, but I assumed he was probably up a tree or stalking a foolish pheasant with Eilidh and Shannon.

  “Mrs. Lamont... Mrs. Lamont... please come quickly? It’s... it’s... Duncan,” cried the little girl, fighting for breath. I turned and, in a flash, saw the panic on the child’s face.

  Grabbing her by the shoulders, I dropped to meet her face. “Shh, slow down Eilidh. What’s happened?”

  “It’s Duncan, Mrs. Lamont. Shannon has pushed him out of a tree and he can’t move.”

  Rising, I swung around and started running through the house. “Stay here and wait for me Eilidh,” I said, screaming for Simon as I did.

  He came running out of his office, in time to meet me in the hall. “What is the matter, Corran?”

  “It’s Duncan, there has been an accident,” I stammered.

  “Where is he?” he demanded, pulling on his boots.

  “I don’t know, Eilidh is here, she knows where he is.”

  We found him, alone, lying on the ground, underneath an ancient oak tree. I dropped to the floor beside him, gently lifting his head to rest it on my lap.

  “Duncan, wake up, it’s mamma, please darling, wake up?” I begged him.

  Simon knelt beside me, gently resting his hand on his son’s neck. “It’s alright, Corran, he has just knocked himself out. He will come round in a bit.”

  “How can you be so sure? Just look at him, Simon. He isn’t moving,” I said quietly, terror ripping at my heart.

  “What happened, Eilidh?” Simon asked, turning to face the tear-streaked face of the little girl.

  “I am not sure Mr. Simon,” she said.

  “I think you do know, lass, but I think you just don’t want to tell me.”

  Her eyes stared wide at him and her little hands shook with fear. “It wasn’t me, Mr. Simon, I didn’t do it.”

  “I know you didn’t do it Eilidh. I just want to know what happened. Show me how far up in the tree he was when he fell and did he fall on his head or his back?”

  “Simon, he’s moving,” I cried, as Duncan slowly lifted his eyelids.

  “Hello lad,” his father said. “Can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?”

  Duncan blinked and a small smile creased the side of his mouth. “Hello pa,” he whispered weakly. “I think you have two fingers in front of my face.”

  “Oh Duncan, you gave us such a fright. What on earth happened?” I cried.

  “I don’t know really ma, I can’t recall exactly. I think I was in the tree with Shannon and Eilidh.”

  I turned my head to scan the field. “Where is Shannon?” I said to Eilidh.

  The little girl shook her head. “I don’t know Mrs. Lamont. I told her to wait here with Duncan whilst I came to fetch you. She must have gone home.”

  Never mind about the girl now, let’s just get Duncan home,” Simon said, lifting our son from the ground. “You ok, lad?” he asked.

  “Aye, pa, I have a bit of a sore head but I expect I will be alright.”

  Simon smiled down at the boy in his arms. “I expect you will my lad but I think you might want to give climbing trees a miss for a while.”

  ******

  CHAPTER 24

  Ellem 1712

  Duncan grew from little boy to young man, and very soon became the hand at his father’s side. I adored our son but as the years drew on, the longing for a daughter tore at my heart. There were plenty of women on the farm. Wives, daughters, sisters of the men who worked for Simon, but no friend could ever fill the role of a daughter.

  “Have you ever wondered why we have never had a child of our own?” I asked Simon one evening after Duncan had gone up to bed.

  “No, not really. We have the lad and although he isn’t ours in blood, he is ours to love and look after.”

  I turned slightly toward the light of the candle as I ran the thread of the cotton through the eye of the needle.

  “Aye, and I do love him, but that doesn’t stop me wondering what it would be like to have a child of our own.”

  “What has brought all this talk about babies on?” he said as he poured molten lead into the rectangular mold.

  “It’s just that I was thinking the other day about my grandmother, and how I would love to have a daughter to share things with, like she did with me.”

  “Aye, well perhaps in time, Corran, we will have a baby and perhaps it will be a daughter,” he replied absently, filling another shot mold with lead.

  “Do you remember when we found Duncan and I told you about that story of my grandmother’s?”

  He shook his head. “No, sorry, Corran, that was a long time ago now.”

  “You must remember. Without that story we wouldn’t have known how to feed him.”

  “Oh aye, I do recall it now.”

  “Well I was thinking that my grandmother knew that one day we would find Duncan. Perhaps she told me that story so that I would know what to do when we found him.”

  “Oh Corran, don’t be so silly,” he said, laughing out loud. “How on earth could your grandmother have known such a thing?”

  “But she did know things, Simon, things that other folk didn’t know.”

  “Corran you are talking rubbish woman. I didn’t know the lady when she was alive, but you may recall I buried her. She was a woman, Corran, just like any other,” he said, popping the cooled shot out of the molds and onto the table.

  “Aye, perhaps you are right,” I conceded, knowing he could not understand, even if he wanted to.

  “Come on lass, I am done here for the night. I don’t mind the idea of practicing the making of a baby,” he said holding his hand out to me.

  We awoke to the chirping of birdsong outside our window and the glorious heady smell of fresh life and spring. I moved across the room to the jug of water on the dresser. I washed and dressed quickly, eager to get downstairs and outside. Spring had come early this year and, after several hard winters and meager summers, I did not intend to waste this promising day.

  As I reached the front door, I stopped, double taking at the figure, bent double, his back toward me, pulling his boots on.
It was Duncan, I assured myself, but for just one moment I had thought it was Simon. Duncan with his long, red hair stood up and smiled down at me. “Good morning, ma. Did you sleep well?”

  I nodded, a little taken by his deepening voice. “Err... yes, thank you darling. Did you?”

  “Oh aye,” he boomed, in the tone of his father.

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Pa is outside with the men, I am going to help with the planting. He said it would rain later so to get an early start.”

  “Well I do hope your pa is wrong, Duncan. I have had enough rain to last me a lifetime. Go on, lad. Have a good day and I will send one of the girls out with some lunch for you all.”

  The house fell quiet and I wondered what time Shannon would arrive for the milking. She had got progressively later and later over the past few weeks. I had spoken to the girl on countless occasions about her timekeeping but unfortunately most of my words seemed to be falling on deaf ears. I was fast reaching the point where it was going to become necessary to speak to her parents. Not bothering to wait for the girl to show up I fetched the milking pail and set off to the shed, resigned to the idea of doing the job myself.

  Just as I had finished, a breathless Shannon flew up to me.

  “Oh Mrs. Lamont I am so sorry. I over laid this morning and... It won’t happen again, I promise,” she stammered, pausing mid-sentence to catch her breath.

  “Shannon you have over laid every morning this week and every morning this week we have had the same discussion.”

  “Oh I know... and I am sorry, but... I –”

  “Listen, Shannon,” I said, talking over the girl and losing patience. “If you can’t do the job then I will give it to someone who can. I only keep you on as a favor to your ma and pa. Do you want me to have a word with them?”

  She shook her head fervently. “No, please, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “Well it better not Shannon, because if it does I will definitely be going to see your pa. Here, take the pail to the house and get the dough for the bread made.”

  Eilidh came up beside me. “Good morning Mrs. Lamont. I have the pheasants ready for the pot,” she said, holding up a tray of cleaned birds.

  “Thank you Eilidh. Would you like to come and help me pick some vegetables to go in the stew?”

  The girl smiled sweetly. “Shall I put the pheasants in the kitchen and meet you in the garden then?”

  “Aye, you do that, and would you mind fetching the basket for me as well please?”

  I enjoyed Eilidh’s company. She had a sweet, naive way with her, much the same as her mother. Sadly, Shannon had, over the years, used the naivety of her friend to shift blame for her own misdoings.

  “Mrs. Lamont, I have the basket.”

  “Ah, thank you Eilidh.”

  The first pickings of the spring crop lay casually in the wicker basket. I looked across at Eilidh. She was a pretty girl and showed promise of great beauty but I wondered how much of that promise would ever flourish. It was a hard life, farming, and not one best suited to the preservation of good looks. “You are a pretty child, Eilidh,” I said eventually.

  The girl put the vegetables in the basket and turned to face me, her deep blue eyes catching the light of the early morning sun. She lowered her lashes to the ground in embarrassment and it was obvious she was not used to compliments.

  “I mean it, Eilidh. You will be a very beautiful woman one day. Take care of that pretty face and pay no heed to the likes of Shannon. She is just jealous.”

  The girl stared up at me, wide-eyed with shock. “Oh no, Mrs. Lamont, Shannon could not possibly be jealous of me. She has the looks of an angel.”

  I shook my head forcibly. “No, Eilidh, you are much prettier than Shannon will ever be and you have a nature to match your looks, which Shannon most certainly doesn’t.”

  “Shannon says one day she will be as beautiful as you, Mrs. Lamont.”

  I cast my eyes to her face, wondering if she was joking. But I had never known the girl to jest or flatter.

  “I imagine Shannon would have far higher ambitions than to look like me.”

  “Oh no, Mrs. Lamont, everyone talks of your looks,” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Well then they are silly,” I said, thinking she had obviously misunderstood some conversation.

  “Honestly, Mrs. Lamont. My ma and pa often say how you don’t look a day older now than when you and Mr. Simon came to the farm, and you both still have all your teeth as well. My pa has lost two in the past six months alone.”

  “Well Eilidh, that is very sweet but I am sure I have aged just as much as your ma and pa,” I said, casting a curious glance over the back of my hands as I reached for the handle of the basket. “Come child, let’s get these vegetables inside and see how Shannon is getting on.”

  I was expecting to smell the heady aroma of fresh yeast when I returned to the kitchen and I was not disappointed. However, something didn’t feel right as I sniffed the air of the room. There was indeed the smell of yeast but I could see no bowl with the frothy head of the brew, no flour, set aside for the making of the dough. Shannon swayed unsteadily against a cupboard, her hands shooting behind her back, clearly attempting to hide something.

  “Shannon what have you been doing? Where is the dough I sent you to make?”

  “Err... I... aamm... doooing... it,” she slurred incoherently.

  “I can see you are up to something young lady, but it’s certainly not the making of bread.” Immediately alerted by her bizarre behavior, I moved toward her.

  “What have you got behind your back Shannon?” I demanded, reaching to grab her arm. She moved away from me, stumbling clumsily. There was a loud crash as a clay mug fell to the ground and the unmistakable smell of ale filled the air.

  “Shannon you are drunk!” I shouted. “Is that Mr. Simon’s ale you have been drinking?”

  The girl laughed and fell forward against me. I grabbed hold of the back of her dress and started to drag her toward the door.

  “Eilidh, can you please clear up that broken jug on the floor and get the yeast on for the bread,” I said, trying to stop Shannon from falling over. “And you Shannon are coming with me; I have had just about enough now. We are going to see your mother and father and just wait until Mr. Simon finds out that you have had all his ale.”

  The girl turned unsteadily to face me, smiled, and promptly threw up all over the front of my skirt. “Right,” I said, pulling forcibly on her arm, “Now we are going to see your mother.”

  With one hand I knocked on the door of my friend’s cottage and with the other I attempted to hold the swaying thirteen year old upright. A slight, drawn woman with a child at her breast answered the door.

  “Miriam, I am so sorry but your Shannon is drunk,” I said, pulling on the back of the girl’s dress to keep her upright. Her mother sighed heavily, shaking her head.

  “I am sorry, Corran, I just don’t know what to do with the girl. She is a handful and with the new baby I just can’t cope with Shannon.”

  I smiled kindly into the tired eyes of my friend. “Don’t worry about it Miriam, but I suggest she goes to bed and sleeps the drink off before Simon gets hold of her.” The woman moved aside as her daughter vomited once more.

  “Miriam, why don’t you go back to bed yourself? I can take the baby for a few hours.” I looked at my friend as her shoulders dropped. “I am so very tired Corran,” she whispered.

  “I know my friend,” I whispered, “Let me help you, please?”

  “You have enough on up at the farmhouse, you don’t need the burden of a small baby.”

  “It would be no burden, Miriam, really.”

  “Oh... I just don’t know...” she started to object again.

  “Right, well that is sorted then,” I said, ignoring my friend’s objections and pushing the drunken girl into the cottage. Frogmarching her toward a mattress in a corner, I pushed her firmly onto it. “Shannon,” I said s
ternly, placing a pan on the floor next to the mattress. “If you are planning on throwing up again, make sure you do it in this pan. Your mother has enough to worry about without having to clean up after you as well.”

  Then I turned to my friend, who cradled her newborn baby weakly in her arms. “Give me the baby, Miriam? Let me take her? I miss the comfort of a small child in my arms and it will be my joy to have her with me for a few hours. You lie down and get some sleep.”

  “Mrs. Lamont, is that Shannon’s baby sister?” Eilidh asked her eyes wide with concern, as I walked through the kitchen door with the baby in my arms.

  “Aye, Eilidh, it is.”

  “Is Shannon’s ma alright?”

  “Aye, she is fine, just weary with lack of sleep. I am just minding the baby a while to give her a break.”

  “Will Shannon be ok?”

  “She is a naughty child, Eilidh, and I don’t care to think what her pa and Mr. Simon will do when they find out that she has been at the ale but for now she is alright.”

  I raised my eyes to the kitchen window as a loud clap of thunder shook the house. “Looks like Mr. Simon were right,” I said, rubbing gently on the baby’s back to shift her wind.

  Eilidh had just finished packing the wicker basket with bread, ham and cheese, ready to take out for the men for their lunch.

  “Shall I set the table instead?” she asked as another crash of thunder emanated from the sky.

  “Aye, that would be a good idea. I can’t see the men staying out for their lunch.”

  As expected, the heavens opened and the men, black with soil from planting, made their way hastily to the house for their lunch. The table stood prepared, set with the food and ale. As they burst through the door, I turned to smile at my husband. Casting a suspicious glance in the direction of my shoulder, where the baby now lay sleeping, he headed straight for the bucket of water. “Where did the baby come from?” he asked, scrubbing his hands.

  “It’s Miriam’s child. The woman is worn down with the worry of Shannon and lack of sleep with the baby.”