Chapter 30
‘Y ou all right?’ Sophie finds me once all of the formalities have been completed and the gathering has moved inside to explore the hall in all its glory. Stood in the garden, staring out at the hills and glens in the distance, I have been replaying the moment I saw him over and over in my head, trying to cling to my sanity.
‘Yeah,’ I reply, unable to confess that I’ve been hallucinating visions of the piper in the crowd. ‘You’ve done a really beautiful job here, Soph.’ Looking out across the gardens, the reams of smiling faces, I am sincere in my words.
‘I’d say we make a good team.’ She places her arm over my shoulder and draws me into an embrace from the side.
Smiling in reply, I rest my head on her shoulder and savour a moment of peace. ‘You’re coming tonight, right? To the Ghillies Ball, I mean?’ she says after a moment, as though suddenly remembering.
‘Do you think the king would notice if I just didn’t turn up?’
‘Probably not.’ She shrugs. ‘But I would, so you’re coming. I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.’ Her playful brows wiggle with the secret and the sight warms me.
‘Yeah?’ I say, intrigued. ‘Then maybe I’ll make the effort, just for you.’
‘I’m serious.’ Sophie folds her arms over her chest. ‘I know everyone in this town. If you try and hide from me, I will find you.’
‘I don’t doubt you for a second.’ I chuckle, though also feeling slightly unnerved. ‘Anyway, how have you managed to escape Buchanan’s clutches on Ghillies day? Isn’t she running around like a blue-arsed fly right about now?’
‘I don’t quite know what happened when we all went on holiday last autumn, but we came back and it was like she had been replaced, Alice. I was terrified.’ With eyes like saucers, she looks genuinely scared for a moment.
‘What are you on about?’ I can’t help my laughter.
‘She smiled at me, Alice,’ she says, almost trembling. ‘And she wouldn’t stop.’
‘That’s a good thing is it not?’ Using my confusion to cover up the fact I know exactly why she is so happy these days, I try everything in my power to not let her secret slip, even to my best friend.
‘Well … yeah. But don’t you think it’s a just a wee bit freaky? It’s like the real Mrs B has been abducted by aliens and now I’m just waiting for her replacement to probe me.’ Sophie shudders then checks her watch. ‘Oh bawbag. She let me have the afternoon off with the promise that I’d be back by four to help with the finishing touches.’
Sophie begins running frantically down the street before turning back to shout her goodbyes. ‘You better be there, Alice!’ she finishes before disappearing down the street and out of view.
‘Can’t have had too much of a personality transplant then,’ I utter to myself, amused at how quickly Sophie’s mood shifted at the thought of being tardy in Mrs B’s presence.
The chill that comes with the end of the summer is thick in the air and the leaves rustle in the trees more loudly than usual, as though they too are clinging to the dregs of the season and refusing to let go. In the Balmoral Arms, my windows are thrown wide open so I feel the breeze on my made-up face. My naked arms prickle with goose bumps as though I have allowed a spirit in from the cold and now it whips around me, and beneath the folds of my dress. With a tight-corseted bodice, my dress fans out from the waist to give way to a skirt so wide I’m afraid it might swallow me if this wind gains any more strength. No one can come within a metre of me thanks to all of the ivory fabric and it is clear that such a choice in attire was entirely purposeful since it was my mother who sent it.
‘Put your shoulders back, Alice,’ Mother fusses as I descend the stairs and they meet me at the bottom to ferry me to the ball.
Callum stands at the bar, newspaper covering his face, but at the sound of my name, he lowers it. Smiling, he salutes me discreetly and I thank him with my eyes.
Mother and Father seem itchy in this part of the world, as though they have to try doubly hard to keep up appearances. Thinking back to the photos Callum has of the two of them, the joy they once possessed, I pity them both as we all walk in silence to the car.
‘Have you been looking forward to seeing Balmoral again, Mother?’ I ask her in one last-ditch attempt to engage with her, to find some common ground.
‘I have never much cared for it,’ she replies sharply.
‘Did you ever get to see much of it?’ I persist, trying not to let the rejection settle too harshly in my chest as I never expected anything different. ‘The pyramid perhaps? Oh, or Loch Muick?’
Only glancing at my father, my mother wears an unreadable expression on her face, and I wonder if she ever understood the love that is infused in all of those places. Did she ever experience what it is to walk there and truly understand their meaning? Did she ever understand the pain, longing, desire of so many before us in history? If not, her misery makes sense, for in the year that has passed, I too feel as though I have left my heart scattered across the grounds of Balmoral and nothing I have experienced since has come close to seeing me regain it.
‘I’ve always thought the place is built on love,’ I say quietly into the silence of the car.
Mother sighs and Father speaks for the first time in a while. ‘I thought you’d gotten over all of that fairy-tale stuff, Alice.’
Those sad, sad words answer all of my questions. My parents see love as something of a fantasy, something only in stories, made up for the entertainment of delusional little girls.
Perhaps that’s the true family curse. Perhaps love is like fairies, or magic. If one doesn’t believe, one will never see nor feel. I believe in fairies, I believe in magic, and most of all, I believe in love. As I watch the castle come into view, I hold on to that belief so tightly. Love is in the trees, it’s in the gravel paths, it’s in the birds, the squirrels, the stags, it’s in the ivy, in the stone, in the vast sky all around it.
Though my love may not be here physically, I feel him in every stretch of the place. As I cross the boundaries into the grounds, my heart feels just a little more at ease. Fraser Bell is haunting me and I am glad of it. At least I possessed his heart once; at least this place is filled with him.
Drawing up the driveway, my father turns to me. ‘Alice,’ he begins in his serious voice, ‘we have noticed a marked change in you recently. Your work has been interesting, and we have been glad to see you out of trouble. Do not let your mother and I down tonight.’ Other parents would simply say they were proud, but this is close enough to praise so I’ll take it.
Before I can respond, the door is opened from the outside and the footmen usher us out. Our names are announced and a head of perfectly neat grey hair emerges from within the cloakroom. Mrs Buchanan, trying to maintain her usual composure, wanders up as close as protocol will allow and stands rigidly, watching us from afar. In a gown of green and gold, her skin glows against the light of the castle. Her eyes, too, seem brimming with life, in such a way that before seemed almost impossible. Now I understand Sophie’s fears; she really does seem like a new woman, despite the ways she tries to maintain her image of old.
‘Your Grace.’ She bows to my mother and offers to take her shawl. Mother does a double take, her recognition evident, her feathers suitably ruffled at this stark reminder of the past. Regaining her composure, Mother hands over her shawl and disappears into the crowd behind my father, leaving Mrs Buchanan behind.
Unable to embrace me in front of an audience, she catches me by the hand and squeezes it inconspicuously. ‘I am so glad to see you, lass.’
‘You look beautiful, Mrs B.’ She thanks me with rosy cheeks.
‘I see the old witch is still as jolly as ever.’ She gestures to my mother with an eyeroll and I have to cover my mouth to stifle my laughter. ‘I’m so glad you’re more like your granny.’
‘Is Sophie here yet?’ I ask, scanning the room, though I know subconsciously hers isn’t the only face I’m searching for. Every man seems to morph into him the more desperately I look and I have to force myself to blink and return my attention to the housekeeper.
‘I believe she’s already in the ballroom. But wait a second lass.’ She pulls off her tartan sash and lays it across my shoulder. ‘You can’t go in without one; I’ll go and find a spare.’ She pinches me on the cheek and struts back across the floor, calling out orders to her staff who stand to attention at her approach.
Navigating the castle as though I have never been away, I quickly find the great hall – made all the easier by the call of the bagpipes that flows from the grand doors. Something stirs in my chest at the sound and as I enter the room, I can’t bring myself to look up to the balcony where he stood not so long ago. What if it’s him there now? What if I did see him earlier, and he has come home to play for the king? Stealing a glance at the pulpit-like stand, I see that a piper, of course, fills its space. The Balmoral tartan, the bonnet, the perfectly pristine uniform. All of it is the same, all of it unchanged, except the man within. My heart sinks.
‘You actually came?’ Sophie clings to my shoulders as she shakes me with excitement.
‘You did threaten me if I didn’t,’ I remind her.
‘Sounds about right,’ replies a voice I had never once expected to hear.
Eilidh Bell stands at Sophie’s side, the famous Bell dimpled smile fixed on her face. Her striking red hair curled and pinned so beautifully she could be Alba herself in her corset of sky-blue tartan. Looking again to the piper at the head of the hall, I furiously look for Fraser’s face, hoping I had managed to miss him before, only for my disappointment to be renewed.
‘Eilidh!’ Turning back to his sister, I give her the greeting she deserves. ‘I’m sorry, you have taken me by surprise a little.’ I hold a gloved hand to my chest to try and steady my heartbeat. She gives me a sympathetic look and I am grateful, above all, that she doesn’t seem to hold any hatred for me. Even after everything I said to her brother.
‘This may take you even more by surprise.’ Sophie leans in close to whisper then takes Eilidh by the hand and stands proudly beside her, their fingers entwined. ‘If you’d only have asked.’ Sophie winks and I can’t help myself; I pull them both into a tight embrace and kiss them on their respective cheeks.
‘Congratulations,’ I say with a tear, still clutching them both tightly. Then releasing them to straighten out their gowns, I hold Sophie by the hands. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Sophie. Truly.’
After all of the time I spent trying to make Sophie happy by setting her up with the piper, it turns out it was actually his sister she was in love with the whole time. Sweeping a tear from under my lashes, my goal seems complete, though I had nothing to do with it. Sophie is in love, she is happy, and she well and truly deserves to be.
‘Lady Alice Walpole.’ The king’s voice calls and silences the voices of many around us. Sophie and Eilidh mouth that they shall catch up with me later as I acknowledge my name.
‘Your Majesty.’ I curtsey before him.
‘Which tartan is that one? I assumed your family would be wearing the royal Stuart,’ he says, gesturing to his own.
‘I believe this is the Buchanan tartan, sir.’ Answering honestly, I look out of the corner of my eye to see if I can spot Mrs B and, much to my pleasure, I find her already in the midst of a dance with none other than Groundskeeper Jimmy.
‘I see your little Scottish sabbatical worked a treat for you. Found your passion in …’ he looks at a note handed to him by an aide ‘… community centres. I have heard from my friends in Braemar of course that you have done a rather good job. Who would have thought?’
‘Thank you, sir.’ I accept the compliment, though it feels a little backhanded.
‘Oh, Alice, whilst I have you here, can you remember Pipe Major Bell who played for us here last year?’ The question stuns me. I wasn’t expecting one so direct and certainly not from the king himself.
‘I believe I do, sir,’ I manage to croak.
‘Well, I have sorely missed him this summer. I allowed him to take a post at Edinburgh Castle and as soon as I heard this fellow play—’ he gestures to the replacement piper ‘—I realised I had made a rather big mistake. Alas, the chap loves Edinburgh, but I have managed to take a loan of him just for the evening, under the promise that I wouldn’t force him to play.’ My heart stops and I have to fight to stay on my feet. ‘Bell, Bell, over here,’ he calls into the crowd.
‘No, sir, it’s oka—’ It’s too late to protest, and too late to brace myself. He was no ghost. He was no figment of my imagination. Fraser Bell comes before the king as flesh and bone.