Glens of Stone, Day 40

Robert had been quiet as he tried to digest this volley of facts, but now he sprang to life again

Lady Catherine turned and scanned the rapt faces of the assembly before she spoke. “Waiting until Alastair was away from home,” she explained, “Thomas McLean and his henchmen broke into the house and abducted the child, taking it back to father. I only learned of this when my father was on his deathbed.”

She had turned back to stare at Crawford. “I believe you, my dear,” Crawford said. “Anyway, Catriona and I were devastated. I gathered a search party and we hunted the raiders for months. I never dreamed it was old Sir Patrick who was behind the abduction.”

He shook his head. The betrayal still shocked him. “And the child?” Duncan McAllan inquired. “McLean took it back to Sir Patrick, where his first instincts were to slay it, I’m sure.”

“No, Alastair!” Lady Catherine jumped to her feet. “Say what you will, Father was no murderer.”

“Perhaps not, but what he did next was a foul and ignoble thing.”

“Aye. He had it taken away and raised by friends of his under another name.” McLaurin peered up at him. “Isn’t that so, sir?”

Astonished

Robert gave a discreet cough. “Forgive me, sir, but I hardly find any of this pertinent. If you intend continuing this sad but somewhat long-winded narrative, perhaps you would allow me to depart? I have pressing duties to attend to at the castle.”

The astonished silence that fell on the group was broken by McLaurin. “Hold your tongue, you young fool,” she rasped. “It’s all right, Ann.”

Crawford made his way down from the pulpit, reaching into an inside pocket and taking out a document. He held it out to Robert, who gave him a quizzical look. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you,” Crawford said. “It’s an affidavit drawn up by the then minister of Moulin kirk near Pitlochry. It confirms that Catriona and I had you baptised there. Yes, you. Your real name is Robert Crawford.”

The colonel cupped Robert’s chin in one hand. “You’re my son.”

Robert was clearly shocked to his core, and only when he was convinced the younger man had regained his composure did Crawford return to the pulpit.

“At least your grandfather let you keep your Christian name,” he said. “McLean learned it before he took you away from your mother. But Crawford? A surname he couldn’t abide. He had a friend, Lord Derwent, with an estate near Morpeth. Derwent was a Hanoverian, of course, and was happy to agree to your grandfather’s wishes. As it happened, the estate’s factor and his wife were childless so you were given to them.”

“Go on.” Robert’s face was ashen. “Years passed. I had no choice but to give you up as lost. I was by then in France, but my friend Ewan was, by chance, using my home as a base for his many activities.

“One night he had a visitor – one of McLean’s cronies, a man close to death from consumption and wishing to confess. Thus Ewan learned of your whereabouts and travelled to Morpeth to locate you. Your parents had just tragically died. You remember?”

Robert nodded wordlessly, still struggling to take it all in.

“When I heard of this,” the colonel continued, “I had Ewan pose as a lawyer and give over sufficient funds for your further education.”

Protested

“I thought Lord Derwent was my benefactor,” Robert protested. “No matter. You used the money to join the army and get a commission.”

“How that must have pleased you.” Sarcasm laced Robert’s voice. Crawford smiled wryly.

“Aye, a staunch Jacobite with a Redcoat son. Not what I would have wished, as you can imagine.”

“And the book?” Robert probed. “‘The Compleat Angler’?”

“A gift to me from your mother many years ago. Hearing from Ewan of your interest in the sport, I asked him to pass it on to you.”

“Then the C on the cover stood not for Charles Derwent?” “No. Your mother inscribed it with her own initial.” Robert shook his head, his thoughts in turmoil. “Why didn’t you reveal yourself to me?”

“I was abroad. But I had Ewan keep an eye on your progress, and, of course, Ann, too.” The old woman grinned amiably. Returning to the pulpit, Crawford looked gravely down at the upturned faces. “Ann was one of our household; a faithful nursemaid. She shared our sorrow at Robert’s abduction. Later she was forced to leave our service.”

He looked at Lady Catherine. “By then you were domiciled in Edinburgh, your own unhappy marriage behind you, isn’t that so?”

Lady Catherine scowled and turned to her old companion. “No wonder you wished me to employ you! Pleaded with tears in your eyes, as I remember. You viper!” Lady Catherine hissed.

“Come now,” Crawford entreated. “Ann did no harm. She was there to liaise with Ewan, and I needed someone in the capital. Someone I could rely on and who knew what was afoot.”

Robert had been quiet as he tried to digest this volley of startling facts, but now he sprang to life again, leaping to his feet. “And what was afoot, sir?”

The colonel sighed. “Firstly, an invasion. I knew an uprising would take place and that our army would eventually make for Edinburgh. This presented the ideal opportunity for us to meet at last, Robert.

“So, thanks to Ewan and the good Sandy, strings were pulled and your transfer here was arranged well in advance.”

Violent

Before Robert could respond to any of this, John Porteous called out. “You said you wanted someone here you could trust. What was wrong with me?”

Crawford held up his palm in a plea for understanding. “It wasn’t just a matter of trust, John, I can assure you. Ewan told me of all your good work on our behalf. But I had good reason to prefer Ann for my purpose.” Catching Lady Catherine’s eye, Crawford went on. “I might add that Ann’s presence in your home ensured your safety, my dear. If a violent reception for our army appeared likely, then she and Ewan had plans to evacuate you to a place of safety.”

“Never!” Lady Catherine folded her arms, face stern.

“It would seem Lady Catherine and I...” Robert paused before going on mockingly. “Pardon me, Aunt Catherine, I should have said, and I are the only loyalists among this bunch of traitors!”

His words caused a hubbub of protest to rise around them. Glaring down at Robert, the colonel raised his hand for silence.

“I can appreciate that you’ve received a great shock this evening but I deplore such unjustified accusations. Most of those present here had no inkling of what was taking place.”

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