Page 57 of The Last Debutante
Daria took a moment to shake out her legs, which were a bit numb from riding astride. She put her hands on her back to stretch it and looked around her. “It’s indescribably lovely,” she said, lifting her face to the morning sun, which was beginning to break through the veil of mist that blanketed the trees.
“Aye,” Jamie agreed. He walked down a footpath and disappeared into the trees; a moment later, he emerged carrying a fishing pole and a small, enclosed basket.
“What is that?” Daria asked.
“A fishing pole.”
“Yes, but... where did you find it? Why do you have it?”
He chuckled as he reached into his pocket and withdrew something that looked like feathers. “Because I am going to fish.” He walked to his horse and opened one of his saddlebags.
“Here? Now?” Daria exclaimed. “But I thought we were going to Mamie’s!”
“Diah,we are, in time.” From the bag he withdrew a pair of boot coverings that Daria had seen men in England wear when they went hunting or fishing. He eased himself down onto a rock and put them on as Daria stared at him in disbelief.
He smiled. “You will allow me this pleasure, aye? Duff doesna care for it and has the vexing habit of hurrying me along.”
“What am I to do while you fish?”
“You have a peculiar habit of inquiring what you ought to be about.” He stood up, hoisted the basket over one shoulder, and grinned at her. “Do whatever you like.” With that, he started down to the water’s edge, wading out until he was standing knee-deep. The bottom of his kilt floated around him as he fit the feather on the end of the fishing line. He then unreeled the line and cast it before him in one fluid motion.
Daria sat on a flat rock beside the river and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, watching as he slowly reeled the line in and cast it again. She scarcely knew a thing about fishing, but he made it look artful. He cast the line as if he were painting, then adjusted his hold of the rod to fit the flow of the river. He looked strong and full of vitality, reeling in one fish, then another, putting them in the basket on his back.
It was a peaceful, blissful morning. Daria could imagine herself here, on this rock, painting or reading. She could imagine sun-filled days watching Jamie fish and feeling the warmth of the rising sun on her face and shoulders.
Then she imagined him here with Isabella sitting on that very rock. A slight shudder of revulsion went through her.He loves her,she reminded herself.
She pushed it out of her mind and looked up. There was something magical about the Highlands that she was beginning to appreciate. Not in the way Bethia explained it, but in the sense that it felt good in her soul. Why would anyone leave it if they were born and reared here? “Why are Scotsmen leaving the hills?” she abruptly asked.
Jamie did not take his gaze from the river. “It’s complicated.”
“Contrary to what you and Lady Ann seem to believe, I am not incapable of understanding complicated matters.”
He glanced at her with a smile. “Aye, that I know, lass. Here it is: In the last decades, the Highlanders’ livelihood has been cattle and what few crops we might grow, aye? But times have been hard, so land has been sold to enterprising men who put sheep on the land. Sheep need quite a lot of room for grazing and encroach on the land available to cattle. But it’s more than that: they encroach on the Highland way of living.
“Some lairds have recognized the opportunity for becoming rich, and have forced their people off their lands against their will so that they might profit from the sheep. Englishmen—lords and rich traders—pay for land, too. The old ways are disappearing, along with families. And there are new opportunities in Glasgow and Edinburra and America, opportunities for work that is easier than working the land. Work that feeds a family. So, many Highlanders have taken those opportunities.”
“That’s what is happening with the Campbells?”
He cast his line again. “For some. I’ve done my best to give the clan a livelihood, yet some have sold to Murchison. Most of our people want to stay, and they will if I can find a way to keep them. It is a fact that the less land we have to produce a livelihood, the less we have in our coffers.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “The money your grandmamma took was to ensure there is food on their tables and roofs over their heads for as long as possible.”
Daria felt her cheeks flush warm. She stood up from the rock, picked up a pebble, and threw it into the river, watching it skip twice before sinking. She suddenly remembered a sunny afternoon spent in Mamie’s company, throwing rocks into a pond.“Throw them now, my love, for when you are a debutante, people will think it untoward behavior in a young lady.”
She shook her head against that memory. “Perhaps you might grow something,” she suggested idly. “Something that might feed them and that you can sell, as well. Lord Eberlin has begun to grow wheat at Tiber Park.”
“Would that it were that easy,” Jamie said. “There is no’ enough arable land in these hills. Most of our holdings are hills or bog.”
“There was a bog at Tiber Park. It took up quite a lot of acreage and he wanted it for crops, so he drained it. And now they grow grain there. It was all the talk for quite some time in Hadley Green. No one believed it could be done.”
“How did he drain it?” Jamie asked curiously.
Daria shrugged as she picked up another rock. “I don’t know precisely how, but they bored a lot of very deep holes.”
Jamie paused to look at her. “How large of an area?”
“Let me think—what shall I compare it to?” she asked thoughtfully. “Have you been to London?”
“Aye.”
