Glens of Stone, Day 44

Ewan heard stifled cries of dismay and knew they came from Ellie and Alison

Ewan Ogilvie knelt down before Colonel Crawford’s sprawled form, seeking any sign of life yet knowing in his heart it was fruitless. With gentle fingers he closed the dead man’s eyes. The group around him gave him a moment to regain his composure. Finally he rose to face them, blinking away his tears. “That will be all for now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice thick. “I would ask you all to return to the Canongate to wait for me.”

He gestured to Mccrae. “Sandy, stay with me. I’ll need your help.”

It was to Robert he spoke next. “I have no hold on you now, though there are still matters to be imparted. If you wish, you may return to the castle with a safe conduct letter from me.”

“After this?” Robert cried, shaking with emotion. “You expect me to leave the others now? For heaven’s sake, that was my father! I may only have known of the fact for a few moments, but even so, surely I should attend to his remains.”

“I will keep you informed. The Army must be notified first and will decide on interment.”

Ewan’s tone prohibited further argument and he watched impassively as the group began to disperse.

Ellie, the front of her skirt stained with Crawford’s blood, placed her arms around Kirsty and Alison.

The three girls looked down at the colonel’s lifeless form then, one by one, knelt down and kissed his forehead.

The silence grew heavy as the girls contemplated this father they had never known. Finally, they rose and walked together up the aisle, their arms wrapped around each other, until they were lost in the gloom.

Only then did Robert and the others follow.

Solemn

When Ewan eventually returned to the Mission House with Sandy by his side, he felt the subdued atmosphere immediately. They sat in silent, huddled groups, the women red-eyed, the men solemn, all with an air of bewilderment.

He felt sorry for them. The revelations in the kirk, followed by the sudden death of the colonel and his assassin, had had a catastrophic effect on them all.

As for himself, he felt numb. He had let himself be lulled into a false sense of security and because of that his friend and mentor had been slain before his eyes.

He should have been vigilant, ready for an attack from Mclean who, after all, had known of the meeting in Duddingston.

Taking a breath, he walked to the lectern at the far end of the room where he lit an oil lamp and drew some papers from his pocket.

“I know how you must feel,” he began. “I blame myself for the colonel’s death, though I had no knowledge of Mclean’s whereabouts. Nonetheless, I should have been prepared for such an eventuality and I will bear my shame for the rest of my days.”

Though no one spoke he felt a wave of sympathy sweep the room.

“Lord George Murray, the Prince’s commander-inchief, has been informed of Colonel Crawford’s death and agrees to his interment at Duddingston kirk tomorrow afternoon.

“Following the funeral, Sergeant Mccrae and I will be marching east, as we understand General Cope and his forces are on the way from Dunbar to meet us.”

He heard stifled cries of dismay and knew they came from Ellie and Alison.

“The colonel was aware that his profession was a dangerous one. While he always hoped to meet you personally one day, he had the foresight to commit his words to paper lest this was not possible.”

Sobbing

Ewan raised the documents in his hand. “I was charged with reading them to you, should...” He faltered. “Should he be unable to speak for himself.” This last was said against the sound of muffled sobbing. Sifting through the papers, Ewan cleared his throat.

“The first pages here cover what the colonel was able to convey to you personally, so I will take up his narrative at that point, reading what he wrote in his own words.

“‘To neglect my son and daughters for all these years is a sin for which I can never obtain absolution. Indeed, I have often wondered if I might do too much harm to those I love by revealing their true status.

“That I do so now is in part a selfish act for, should the coming battles result in my death, I wish to meet my Maker free of such guilt. Yet I was also cognisant of the wishes of my dear Catriona, who would have wanted the truth to be known.

“‘Nothing I can say will lessen the shock you must feel. Yet for my wife’s sake I must do what I can to alleviate your misery.

“‘My trusted friend Ewan Ogilvie...’” again a feeling of remorse swept over Ewan, “‘... has been given the title deeds to my estate in Morayshire.

“You will find that I have passed the property to my son Robert and his heirs. I have also decreed that my daughters Kirsty, Alison and Ellie should have a life rent interest in the estate should they wish to reside there at any point.

“In addition, I further bequeath to my daughters and to Robert the sum of 20,000 pounds each, together with a share of the moneys remaining after further bequests are carried out.’”

Ewan was tempted to stop at that point to gauge the reactions of the group, though the prevailing silence indicated their shock. He pressed on.

“‘From my friend Ewan Ogilvie and others I am aware that my daughters have caught the amorous attentions of certain young men, and I would have them know that I bless any unions that may take place.’”

Looking in turn at Malcolm and Sandy, Ewan gave a faint smile.

“I am instructed to give you each one thousand pounds should you marry the young ladies.” He glanced at Kirsty and Alison, smiling knowingly. “What about you, Ewan?” Ellie was looking at him. “A similar amount to me. Plus a further award for my services to the colonel.”

Considerable sums

Ewan turned to the last page of the document before him.

“He has listed his wishes and bequests in a separate writ.” He raised his eyes. “I would add that he has left considerable sums to you, Lady Catherine, and to Miss Mclaurin.

“Lastly, to Mr and Mistress Porteous and Mr Mcallan there are handsome annuities which, he admits, will never make up for their respective kindnesses to Alison and Kirsty.

“Finally, his last words are these: ‘While I cannot ask that you remember me with love, I would beseech you to think fondly of your dear mother.

“She was fated to lose her firstborn in his infancy and never held her three daughters in her arms. I know she would have loved you all dearly.

“I, too, love you and wish I had watched you grow to adulthood. Think kindly of me, all of you, and forgive me if you can.’”

Ewan stood silent for a few moments. Then, folding the papers, he placed them in his pocket.

“The funeral will take place at two o’clock.”

More tomorrow.

Glens of Stone was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. There’s more great fiction in The People’s Friend every week, £1.30 from newsagents and supermarkets.

Artwork: Mandy Dixon