Epilogue
How you’d exult if I could put you back
Six hundred years, blot out cosmogony,
Geology, ethnology, what not…
And set you square with Genesis again.
—“Bishop Blougram’s Apology,” 1855
Robert Browning (1812–1889)
British poet
Beloyn Castle
Scottish Lowlands
Present Time
Robert and Victoria Douglas were a long way from their Texas ranch when they arrived at Beloyn Castle. As they walked inside, Victoria was filled with apprehension. Would they find the answers to their questions? Would they learn anything about the disappearance of their daughters almost a year ago?
Since the day the twins vanished, an agonizing sense of loss had penetrated her memory. How does one get over the loss of a child, especially when the loss is doubled? There had to be answers here. She wanted to see the place where the girls were last seen. She and her husband had to realize a sense of finality, a way to come to terms with the sudden disappearance of the twins. They needed closure.
She knew the story of the ghost of the Black Douglas. She read about Douglas having disappeared more than once from the portrait. The last time it had happened was the day her daughters had vanished.
The painting was far larger than she had expected. The Douglases paused before it, each with their own thoughts as they studied the portrait intently. The Black Douglas was rather splendid looking, standing with his legs planted far apart and his arms crossed in front of him, his great black cape swirling, a glimmer in his deep blue eyes, and a smile upon his lips.
I believe you know what happened to my daughters, just as I feel you had something to do with it, Victoria thought, as tears slid down her cheeks. Robert put his arm around her.
“I wish he would leave that painting,” she said. She looked at Robert. “I know you don’t believe the legend of the painting, but I do.”
Having heard this many times before, Robert hugged her, but he remained quiet, allowing her to ease her pain in whatever way she could.
Victoria was still studying the face of the Black Douglas. I know they were in this castle. They probably stood right here, as I am doing now, looking at this magnificent painting of you. I know you know their story and what happened to them that day. Can you give us some knowledge of what happened to them?
A cloud passed over the sun. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Then all was quiet, save for the faint drone of a bagpipe. She glanced at Robert, but he seemed not to notice. Then she saw the sun was shining through the window, and there was not a cloud in sight. She noticed, too, that most of the tourists had already left.
Robert took her by the arm. “Come on, we should go now. We’ve seen about all there is to see here.”
They turned away and walked back the way they had come. They passed a quaint alcove with a stone bench, where a small painting hung. Robert passed on by, but something about it snagged Victoria’s attention. She stopped to give it a closer inspection. After a few more steps, Robert turned around.
In the painting, a group of people stood in front of a castle, but it wasn’t Beloyn. It appeared to be a family, for there were two adults and several children around them, along with a couple of dogs. Victoria leaned closer and gasped.
“Robert, come here!”
He joined her. “What?”
“That is Isobella in this picture.”
“Victoria, I know you…”
“I know it’s Isobella. Put on your damn glasses!”
Robert put them on and leaned closer. “It does look like Izzy, but it’s just a resemblance. It cannot be her. Look at the clothes. That painting must be several hundred years old,” he said, but he realized she had already walked away. “Wait.”
“I’m going to find someone who knows about this painting.”
Siobhán McGill was the castle’s administrative director and the woman with all the answers. The moment they introduced themselves as parents of the missing twins, Siobhán said, “And you are here to see the place where they disappeared.”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, and we are here to find answers.”
“You were here before, I believe, right after they disappeared.”
“Yes, we were,” Robert said, “but the investigation had just begun and it was too soon to get answers.”
Siobhán smiled sympathetically, her eyes warm and kind. “And now you are back for those answers.”
“Yes,” Victoria said. “But first, I want to know one thing. Do you believe in ghosts?”
Siobhán’s eyes brightened, and she smiled. “I am afraid not to.”
“Do you think it possible that the Black Douglas had something to do with their disappearance?”
Siobhán did not take long to reply, “Scots, especially Highlanders, which I am, have always been superstitious. A study showed that a third of Britons considered themselves to be superstitious, but Scots topped the list with forty-four percent. I was reared on the legend of the Black Douglas. Intellectually, I did not believe such a legend was possible, but after what happened here, my intellect was severely challenged.
“It is hard to argue with cold, hard facts. And the facts are: The figure of the Black Douglas was in the painting the day your daughters visited here. The housekeeper saw your daughters standing before it. She stepped away for not more than two minutes to take a call. When she returned your daughters had simply vanished, along with the image of the Black Douglas.
“Your daughters’ belongings were at the hotel, and their rental car was in the car park. The video cameras located around the castle showed them entering, but none showed them leaving. Hard to argue with that, my mind tells me, so, yes, I suppose I do believe it.”
“Do you happen to recall when the Black Douglas returned to the painting?” Robert asked.
“I was not working here at that time, but I remember hearing it was about four months later, on Christmas Day,” Siobhán replied.
Victoria had been listening carefully, but she turned and pointed to the painting in the alcove. “What do you know about this particular painting?”
“The one you see here is only a small copy. I believe the wife of the chief was a Douglas, and that is why a copy of it hangs here.”
“Do you know where the original is?” Victoria asked.
Siobhán nodded. “I will check on it for you. I’ll be right back.”
She returned a short while later with a folder. As she sorted through it, she said, “These documents are quite old, so they may no longer be accurate, but it is noted here that the original painting hangs in Màrrach Castle on the Isle of Mull. That is the ancient seat of the Mackinnon clan.”
“Does it identify any of the others in the painting by name?” Robert asked.
Siobhán nodded. “Yes, they are listed here: Alysandir Mackinnon, Chief of Clan Mackinnon, his wife Isobella Catriona Douglas Mackinnon, and…”
Robert jerked his head around. He and Victoria exchanged looks. Victoria started crying. Robert, although stunned, managed to say, “One of our daughters was named Isobella Catriona. As you can see, this is quite a profound discovery for us. We have been praying for a break.”
“Oh, my!” Siobhán exclaimed before she composed herself. “I will copy everything for you.”
A short while later, she returned with a folder and handed it to Robert. “I’ve made photocopies of several documents. There is a small map included. I also took the liberty of calling ahead for you. Màrrach is a popular setting for weddings, so they have an events coordinator. Her name is Morvern Fairbairn.
“She is expecting you and has scheduled for you to visit there tomorrow. She did mention that you might also be interested to know that Isobella Mackinnon had a sister who was married to the Earl of Kinloss and there is a portrait of her also.”
***
Morvern Fairbairn met them upon their arrival. She greeted them warmly and said, “Please let me begin by saying I’m very sorry about your daughters. Siobhán McGill told me your daughters were the ones who disappeared at Beloyn. I do apologize for the noise. We are setting up for a wedding.”
They were anticipating a miracle that day when they walked into the Great Hall, and they were not disappointed. Two huge, full-length family portraits hung side by side. Beautifully displayed in ornate gilt frames, each one bore an inscription.
Alysandir Mackinnon, Chief of Clan Mackinnon,
Isle of Mull, Scotland and his beloved wife,
Isobella Catriona Douglas Mackinnon.
David Murray, Earl of Kinloss,
Moray, Scotland and his beloved wife,
Elisabeth Rhiannon Douglas Murray,
Countess of Kinloss.
Gathered around Isobella and Alysandir were ten children, seven sons and three daughters, while David and Elisabeth had five sons and three daughters, including one set of twins.
Morvern said, “I’ve requested the paintings be taken down. There is something on the back you should see.”
They talked for a while until the workmen had the paintings down. On the back of each was a more complete listing, which included the names of the children. Robert was the first to notice that Isobella and Elisabeth both had children named Victoria and Robert.
Beneath the names were the words of a poem:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
“Robert Frost,” Victoria said. “That is from his poem, ‘The Road Not Taken.’ Robert Frost died in the early ’60s. This painting was done centuries before he was born. Don’t you see? This was their way of telling us to believe what our eyes see and not what our logic tells us.”
She turned to her husband and put her hand on his arm. “They loved us, Robert, and they left this where we would find it because they did not want us to grieve. Look at our beautiful grandchildren. It is strange to think that we must trace the Mackinnons and the Murrays to find our descendants among our ancestors.”
Morvern handed them a few papers. “The originals of these are in Edinburgh. This is a copy of the names and birth dates of their children. It also has the date of the marriage of Isobella and Alysandir.”
Victoria leaned closer to read the document, and gasped. “Oh, my God!” She turned to Robert. “Look at the date of their marriage, Robert. It was December 25, 1515. Christmas Day.”
“The day the Black Douglas returned to the painting,” he said.
“We have quite an extensive collection of rare and extremely well preserved artifacts and historical documents that were discovered and catalogued by Isobella Mackinnon. She was quite an impressive archaeologist for her time. So many antiquities of this nature never made it to modern times. Scotland owes her a great debt for her devotion to preserving history. Many of her findings are in Edinburgh and a few in London.
“I wish I knew as much about Elisabeth Murray as I do Isobella. However, I can tell you that she was quite skilled and made many advances in medical science in a time when women did not excel in such.
“And now, I have a big surprise for you,” Morvern said. She guided them down a long hall to a large room. “Many of these items were discovered by Isobella in the cave you will visit later,” she said, as she put her key in the door and turned on the light. “These are kept under low-light conditions, “she said, “to keep out UV light and to minimize visible light. Many of the documents are hermetically sealed and put it in an atmosphere of nitrogen or helium to prevent oxidation. But what I really wanted to show you is over here.”
She led the way, talking as she went. “The castle underwent some renovations recently, and a secret compartment was discovered behind a wall that had been added centuries later. Inside that compartment was something you may recognize.”
She removed a covering from the glass case, and Victoria burst into tears. “It’s Izzy’s Prada backpack.”
“There were also some items in the stone box that belonged to Elisabeth, but they are under the care of the current Earl of Kinloss in Moray. You mentioned you were going to visit there, so be sure you ask to see them.”
“Oh, we will,” Robert said.
“We normally don’t allow anyone to touch the items, but I think we can make an exception in your case.” She unlocked the glass case.
It was a moving experience to touch the familiar items belonging to her daughter, and Victoria took her time looking at each item. “Just think, Izzy was wearing this backpack a couple of years ago and yet it has been buried for five hundred years. Mind boggling, isn’t it?”
Victoria went through Izzy’s wallet. She looked at the photo on her license and passport and tested the breath spray, which did not work. And then she picked up the romance novel and laughed.
“Now, this is really spooky,” she said, leaning over to hold the book up in front of Robert.
“The Bride of Black Douglas,” he read.
“Izzy read romance novels for years. It’s almost as if she had a premonition, or maybe it was a sign of some sort. Whatever it was, I do not believe it was an accident that she picked this book to bring with her.”
Later, as they left the castle, she glanced at Robert. “I know they were happy. I just wish there was some way I could know that in the end they had a choice of whether they remained or came back to their time. If only I could have some sign,” she said, and turned away.
From somewhere deep within the castle came the haunting skirl of pipes.