Lowland Romance Collection - Books 1-3

Chapter 1-3

A lady cannot object openly, as you know, but she can do her best to make a gentleman"s life disagreeable if she so wishes, so I returned his pleasantries with formal disdain and rejected his advances with a politely cold shoulder.

“My dear Miss Alison,” he said at length, stepping back, “I do hope that I have done nothing to offend you? Why, in the Peninsula the society ladies were falling over themselves for only a whisper of our company…”

“Why, Mr. Forres! Were you in the Peninsula? How brave of you!” Louise had appeared like a perfumed ghost, and without a by-your-leave, she stepped between us as if she were taking a French prisoner from a battlefield.

Lieutenant Forres only looked surprised for a moment, then he proffered his arm, which Louise accepted with a sidelong smile I would have loved to have removed if I were not so much of a lady.

Now, I had no great liking for the dashing Lieutenant, but even then, I knew when I was being insulted, and I resolved to strive with Cousin Louise for his attention. For the remainder of that evening, we competed for the favours of John Forres, and he lapped up our attention like a cat licks up the top of the cream. When he was not dancing with me, he was exchanging small talk with Louise, and when she was not whispering grave secrets behind her fan, she was watching us with her face green tinged with envy and those slanted eyes as malicious as a slighted politician.

“He"s far better suited to me, you know,” Louise told me as we circled around each other in one of those devilishly complicated quadrilles.

“I believe that he spoke to me first,” I gave back, as sweetly as any serpent and we exchanged venomously insincere curtseys and parted, with John Forres smiling on us both indiscriminately. The smile I could thole, but when his hands followed his too-bold eyes I withdrew again, much to Louise"s amusement.

“La, Lieutenant Forres,” she said, “I do believe that you have scared the child. My cousin Alison is far too young for such adult pleasures.”

“And you, madam, are not?”

“Indeed, sir, that would entirely depend on the owner of the hand,” Louise invited shamefully, but Lieutenant Forres acted more of the gentleman than I had expected when he merely smiled.

Louise did not appear pleased. “La, sir, but I believe that you are nothing but a tease.”

“La, madam, but I am the best judge of my own actions.” He withdrew for a space, and Louise"s eyes wandered to the door which had opened to allow a small and compact group of men to enter.

madamI have few gifts in this world, but I am able to determine atmosphere, and as soon as these men walked into that room, I felt a shift. It was nothing tangible, nothing I could put my finger on, but I knew something had changed. So did Louise, of course, and she was pressing forward to see what was happening and what she could gain from the alteration.

“Who are these men?” I whispered to Alexander Forres, who had moved to my side like a guardian sheepdog to his prize lamb.

There were four of them, and although two wore uniforms, and two did not, there was no disguising the essential militariness of them all. Perhaps it was the compact way in which they stood or the quiet fire in their eyes, but they did not look out of place among the kilties and the scarlet jackets. I did not recognise their uniforms but that was not unexpected, given the amazing array of regiments and units that had been founded to fight Bonaparte"s never-ending war.

“They are French prisoners from the castle,” Alexander Forres told me quietly, “out on parole. Some are allowed freedom from their confinement and Lady Catriona always invites a few to the Hogmanay ball.”

“But they are the enemy.” I did not hide my bewilderment.

Alexander"s smile contained only fatherly tolerance. “My mother, Lady Catriona, insists that we have been friends with the French far longer than we have been enemies, and we shall be friends again just as soon as the warfare ceases.” His laugh seemed to mock the entire edifice of society. “Anyway, Miss Alison, they are jovial company and they add a little spice to the evening, rather than just the usual manoeuvring for husbands, wives, and fortunes.”

I am still not sure if he was laughing at me, but Alexander was such a gentleman that it was even a pleasure to be teased by him. I accepted his comments with a smile and watched as the Frenchmen strolled in. Now you must understand that for most of my life, this country had been at war with France, and we had been brought up to regard Frenchmen as ogres that ate babies and spread republicanism, while Bonaparte was the devil"s cockerel with a Corsican accent. However, we were also imbued with French culture, so anybody with any pretence at education spoke French, while French furniture was never out of fashion, so you must excuse my mixed feelings when this quarter of Frenchmen entered our ball.

On first sight, I must admit to a certain disappointment. They were neither one thing nor the other, neither ogres nor icons of fashionable culture. I could not see a single forked tail or cloven hoof, although I confess that Louise was far more adept at investigating for such things, but neither did they bring the place alive with new ideas, indeed they looked decidedly ordinary. In different clothes, they could have fitted into the ranks of the kilties, or the militiamen.

It was more intriguing to watch the reaction of our soldiers. While the militia officers were a bit stand-offish, the Highlanders welcomed them like brothers in arms, extending a true hand of friendship and inviting them to make free with Lady Catriona"s whisky, brandy, and claret. The French responded in kind so there was uproarious laughter from at least one section of the room.

Louise, of course, scented new men and hurried elegantly toward them, while Lady Catriona sat in her chair in the corner of the room, quietly smiling under her turban. She had created the scene and she obviously intended to enjoy it. Ordinary conventions did not concern her ladyship, so long as the basic proprieties were observed. Other ladies, as you will see by and by, were not quite so easy-natured.

Well, that evening passed in a haze of swirling tartan and emptying glasses, of sparkling conversation and hectic flirting, of rustling silk and drumming heels on the dance floor, until somebody announced it was almost midnight. Of course, we all scurried to the decanters and observed the sacred minute, standing with our brimming glasses in hand while Alexander counted off the seconds to the beginning of the New Year.

I can picture the scene as if it were yesterday, rather than sixty, or is it seventy-odd years ago? All the brave uniforms standing to attention with the eager young ladies at their side, Louise gripping the arm of John Forres as if he were a prize she had won at the local fair and the tallest and most personable of the Frenchmen edging ever closer with his lips slightly open and his eyes burning with Gallic ardour.

“Ten… nine… eight…” Alexander held an enormous gold watch in his hand as he solemnly intoned the seconds as if we could not see the massive grandfather clock only a few feet away.

“Seven… six… five…”

Louise gave a little scream of anticipation and sipped at her ratafia. That was a light wine, dears, favoured by ladies, and Louise could try so hard to appear ladylike when it suited her purpose. Society does not favour ratafia nowadays, which is a shame; it was an innocuous kind of drink and rarely did much harm.

“Four… three… two…”

There was a tremendous sense of anticipation in that room, with everybody holding their breath. Except for Louise, who was holding the arm of John Forres and giggling as the Frenchman whispered something in her ear.

“One!” Alexander raised his glass. “Happy New Year, everybody, and let us hope that 1812 is successful and prosperous.” I could see he wanted to ask for a victorious conclusion to the war against Napoleon Bonaparte, but for the sake of politeness to the French officers present, he refrained. “And let us all hope for a lasting and just peace.”

“Success, prosperity, and peace!” The gathering intoned solemnly, but when Louise lifted her lips for a New Year kiss, John Forres slipped free, grabbed hold of me and planted a flattering, but extremely unwelcome, kiss square on my mouth.

I must have screamed at this unwarranted assault, but it is difficult to make any real noise when somebody is effectively covering your lips. Louise, however, was not so restrained and she made some very unladylike remarks just as John released me. I looked at her in astonishment while the colour rushed to my face.

“Madam…” She had her hands on her hips and her head thrust forward so she looked just like one of the hens that scratched around the townships alongside the Calder River in Badenoch.

“Yes,” I said. I was unhappy at the assault, but secretly quite pleased that a gentleman, of whatever character, had chosen me over my forward and quite beautiful cousin.

“Madam…” Louise repeated but stopped. After all, what could she say? Turning with a fine show of indignation, she quite accidentally twisted the heel of her shoe, slipped, and crashed against me.

We must have made a fine display as we fell in a flurry of skirts and tangled limbs, with our legs a-flailing and arms waving uselessly. Strangely it was the tall French officer who was first to offer assistance, raising Louise with a grace I still find it hard to fault, while John Forres merely smiled and thrust out an ineffectual hand while her Ladyship frowned beyond her fan.

“Whose fault was that?” Her Ladyship"s voice had lost any pretence at amiability as the concordance quietened.

“I believe it was Miss Alison,” Louise gave voice, rubbing at her ankle as the French officer directed her to a chair. She looked at me balefully.

“Then Miss Alison should leave the company,” Lady Catriona pronounced. “Send for the sedan chair. The chairmen can carry her to Lady Elspeth"s town house immediately. I will not tolerate such disgraceful scenes in the Forres Residence. This is Edinburgh, Miss Alison, and we have no place for your wild Highland ways.”