Page 20 of A Two-Faced Laird
There was a moment of tension, then a ripple of laughter around the table before his father said sternly: “Gentlemen, I will take care of that matter, as fathers usually do. However, that is not what we are here to discuss now, so can we get back to business please?”
Lewis was infinitely glad when the meeting ended. However, if he thought he was going to get away easily, he was disabused of that notion by the feel of his father’s heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to see that the Laird’s eyes were blazing with anger.
“You and I have to have a little talk,” his father said grimly. “Come to my study.”
He began to march away, and Lewis followed him reluctantly, dreading what was coming next. When the Laird became angry, he did a very good and thorough job of it. Lewis could see that he was in for a verbal hammering of note, but he was almost resigned to it. He had endured many such since his brother’s departure from this life, almost as though his father blamed him. Why not? He thought. He blamed himself.
When they reached his study, the Laird sat down heavily in one of the chairs next to the desk and poured himself a stiff whisky, not bothering to offer one to Lewis because he knew it would not be accepted.
Lewis was astonished. His father never drank more than weak ale in the mornings, and even though he had provided wine at the meeting, he had abstained from drinking it himself. Strong spirits like whisky, brandy, and rum were only to be indulged in after dinner in the period of relaxation before bedtime. Even then, the Laird usually only drank one glass, and indulged in two on a Sunday or on special occasions. Lewis had never seen his father drink whisky in the morning or even the afternoon before.
As he looked up with a question in his eyes, the Laird glared at him fiercely, and Lewis wondered what he had done to make his father so angry. He sat silently while the Laird took his first sip of the strong liquor, then coughed slightly at the unaccustomed fiery burn. Laird Findlay sat back in his chair andfolded his arms, and all the while his eyes did not leave his son’s. Lewis stared back determinedly, refusing to back down.
“One of the guards told me he saw you and Edina on the battlements the other evening just as the sun was beginning to set,” he told his son. “He said you were in a rather…vulnerable condition. I told him he was mistaken. Sons of mine are not weak, no matter what the circumstances. You are a man, and I expect you to behave like one.”
Lewis felt utterly ashamed of himself. He had told himself at the time that he was behaving like a baby, but thought that no one but Edina had seen him. He would not be weeping again, he resolved, even if he had to bang his head against a brick wall out of frustration instead.
“And Edina?” This time, the Laird’s voice was so high with indignation it was almost a squeak. “What were you doing in her company in such a place? Do you not know what people will think? You are a Laird’s son, for god’s sake! You are not to have a dalliance with the daughter of my advisor—someone who is far below your social status. You are destined for a far better match than the likes of her!”
Up to that moment, Lewis had kept his own counsel, but a hot wave of rage suddenly swept over him as he heard his father disparaging Edina.
“Do not speak of her like that!” he yelled. “She is a good woman, and I will not listen to you talk about her as if she is a kitchen maid. Just because we happened to meet each other by chance does not mean I wish to marry her—and she would turn me down even if I did. She is like a sister to me, and she is not after my title or money, be assured of that. I would know if she were. If you want to know why I broke down, it is because I find it hard to play heir and not disappoint you, Father. Especially when there is no one to support me after my brother’s leave!”
He was stunned by his own outburst, as was the Laird. Lewis was lying about having no interest in Edina, and although his father had the uncanny knack of reading his son like a book sometimes, he was too taken aback by Lewis’s anger now.
“I think we had better continue this conversation when you and I are a little calmer,” he said, standing up. “You are doing a good job, son. Just remember who you are and what we all stand for.”
He was weary utterly now. After the negotiations in the meeting, his unaccustomed glass of whisky, and his confrontation with his son, Laird Findlay did not have the emotional fortitude to carry on. All he wanted now was to rest in his wife’s arms.
Lewis watched him as he left, then sighed and laid his head on the desk. When he stood up, he went straight to his chamber to obey his father’s orders. Not only did he avoid seeing Edina that evening, he saw no one else either. He did not go to dinner or have it delivered to him. In fact, he ate nothing and saw no one, and even though he longed for Edina’s soft arms wrapped around him, he refused to give in to his desires.
He could have run to her and told her all his problems, but he decided to keep them all to himself, as he had ever since his brother had left him. He was beginning to feel the strain now, however. Without the person whom he had always thought of as his other half, he felt incomplete and sometimes helpless.
His last thought before he went to sleep was the searing kiss he had enjoyed with Edina. How he wished she was sharing his bed at that moment.
8
Lewis made himself scarce for the next few days. He came down to eat breakfast earlier than everyone else so that he was gone and his place at the table had been cleared before anyone else arrived.
Edina noticed that neither Laird nor Lady Findlay remarked on his absence, and she presumed that once more he needed time and space for himself so that he could miss his brother in peace. Having seen him weeping in the twilight on the battlements, Edina presumed that he was doing the same thing again. Now that she knew a little more about him. However, she was not as alarmed as she might have been before.
The fact that he had been so openly showing his feelings meant that he was not one of those people who thought men should have no emotions at all. He had a unique way of dealing with his, that was all, and Edina respected that. He was one of the few men she knew who did not feel it necessary to put a stoic face on all the time. He did not exactly advertise his feelings, but neither did he feel the need to stuff them all inside himself to such an extent that they exploded under the pressure one day.
He was a complicated man, but gradually she was beginning to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was the Findlay heir.
Now, it was time to go into the village to open the school for the day. Edina was immensely satisfied and pleased with the project. The children had all begun to read and count well, and she had hired two of the daughters of the local ministers to tutor them.
They were both in their early twenties and had a well-rounded private education, which they were eager to pass onto the village children. As well as that, Edina had provided all the pupils with a daily meal, and fitted them with new clothes which had been made by some of the wives of men in Achnabreck.
Her latest project, of which she was very proud, was the cottage industry she had started which involved the sewing of servants’ and other kinds of uniforms for the castles and estates around Achnabreck. There was a great demand for this kind of clothing, and the nearest place it could be sourced was a town ten miles outside Dundee. This made it inconvenient and expensive to transport, but Edina had bought a shipment of cotton and linen, then sourced wool from all the local farmers so that everyone benefitted from the new business.
Lady Findlay and Edina’s mother had been astonished at what she had achieved. Granted, she had received help from her father and the Laird, who had lent her the coin to start the business, but the drive and determination was all her own.
“I think you must have inherited your business acumen from your father,” Bettina remarked. “I am so proud of you, my dear.” Her eyes were shining.
“As am I,” Roy McCarthy agreed, smiling as he reached across the dinner table to pat his daughter’s hand.
“I could not have done it without you, M’Laird.” Edina smiled at the Laird fondly.
