“We’ll meet where we parted in yon shady glen,By the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond.”
“We’ll meet where we parted in yon shady glen,By the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond.”
Nan was humming the words over to herself even as the carriage came to a stop before the gates of the ancient estate. The driver climbed down from his high seat in front and pulled a rope. A bell rang in the distance, the gates opened, and now, almost proudly, the horses pulled the carriage up a short driveway and stopped. A proud dignified old gentleman came out to greet them.
“Welcome, thrice welcome to Emberon,” he greeted. “And you, my dear,” he continued as they walked in through big doors to a high old hall, “you, I’m sure, are Nancy Sherwood.” His voice was soft and low as he spoke to her. He placed his hand on her head. “A Blake through and through,” he went on, smiling down at her surprise at his instant recognition.
“The same clear eyes, determined little chin, and proud carriage. Your mother has it too, when she is well. And her father before her, Randolph Hugh Blake—he was a wee lad when he first visited his uncle here—he had those eyes. You are all cut from the same pattern as Hugh Blake, the well-beloved steward of Emberon for nigh on to sixty years.
“We are glad to see you, little mistress,” he said quaintly, as he rang a bell for a servant.
Nan looked up, startled, at the term “mistress.” Was it right to address her so? A wave of shyness came over her. She looked about at the ancient hall with its obsolete firearms hanging on the walls, its big soft rug, tapestries, and thearmor of a knight long dead standing in the corner. So this was Emberon! This was the estate her mother had inherited! This was the place her mother and father had visited a year, two years before, while she had been in Pine Camp and then at Lakeview Hall. Nan drew a deep breath, trying hard to realize it all.
For a few moments, they all stood around telling the venerable old gentleman, James Blake, who was a distant relative of Mrs. Sherwood’s, of their journey. Then, as the servant he had summoned appeared, he spoke again to Nan with the utmost deference.
“Your apartments are ready upstairs,” he said. “Go quickly, for it is late and some in the village have prepared an entertainment for the lassies from America. It is quite necessary that you go down, for most of them down there are people who know the Blake story from beginning to end. Hugh Blake was an idol in these parts.
“He treated those who were under him with such kindness and thoughtfulness that they looked upon him almost as a father. He took care of them when they were sick, watched over them when they were in trouble, comforted them when their young folks went off to the cities or to America. He saw that none went hungry. He helped them whenever he could, and when he died, theymourned as though he was one of theirs. Now they are anxious to see his youngest descendant.
“Though I know you are tired,” he chuckled as they all shook their heads, “you must make the most of your short stay here. Upstairs, my sister has everything in readiness. Now, begone with you.” He dismissed them and turned toward the big fireplace to warm his hands.
“Why, Nan Sherwood!” Bess exclaimed as soon as they left the reception hall, “it’s a castle! And you are the princess!” Although Bess was fooling, she was very much impressed at all she had seen.
“You are my subjects and you had better behave,” Nan laughed as they were ushered into a group of big bedrooms with high canopied beds, huge chests, heavy rugs, thick damask drapes, everything dark and faded, the luxuries of ages gone by.
“Yes, princess of Emberon,” Laura made a brief curtsey. “We are at your command. Your ladies in waiting await your orders.” She took Nan’s hand and led her to a high-backed oaken chair where Nan seated herself for a moment.
“Your subjects, madame,” Laura waved her hand toward the others, and then added, “They don’t amount to much, but they are the best we have to offer at present.”
“That’s treason!” Amelia exclaimed, “treason! We’re loyal subjects and true. We are daughters of Scotland and defenders of the Blake clan.”
The girls were acting. It was their own version of a scene from a class play they had once acted in at Lakeview. The room’s setting had brought it all back to mind. But in acting they were prophesying too, prophesying something even more romantic than the scene the present brought to mind.
“Defenders of the Blake clan! Ah, how it needs you! Come, rally round!” Nan pretended to sound the call to battle as she left her regal seat and plunged into the job of unpacking.
The others followed suit. The stern faces of the ancient lairds of Emberon that looked down on them from heavy gilt frames on the wall never saw six more industrious girls than those in the Lakeview crowd as they unpacked and dressed.
Once Laura looked up at them. “I must say,” she said then to Nan, “that this isn’t a very cheerful looking bunch of ancestors that is watching us.”
Nan paused in her work to look, too. “They aren’t, are they?” she agreed, walking around the room and looking intently at each of their faces. “These are portraits, I think, of the first of the lairds of Emberon. A fighting lot theywere and as straight-laced as the best of the Scotsmen.”
“They look it,” Laura answered. “I, personally, feel as though they disapprove of every single dress I’m taking out of this bag.”
“Let’s see, how should they be made to satisfy those crusty old gentlemen?” She held one up to herself. “It should be tighter in the bodice, have a ruff around the neck, and the skirt,” she looked down at the trim pleats in her own, “oh, that’s all wrong! It should be long and full, just touching the floor. No wonder they disapprove. I am disgusted myself,” she added, looking up at one of the solemn faces and winking.
“Why, Laura Polk,” Rhoda had been watching and listening to the little by-play, “You had better be more respectful to your hosts,” she nodded toward the portraits, “or tonight, at the parade of the ghosts, you will be taught a well-deserved lesson.”
“Parade of the ghosts!” The exclamation was Grace’s.
“Why, of course, I had forgotten completely about that,” Laura looked very serious. “At the stroke of midnight in these ancient castles, all of the skeletons come out of the closets and the dungeons and the secret stairways and the cellars and the attics, walk through the halls, rattlearound a bit, clank a few chains and then do some fancy haunting. If they are healthy ghosts, they groan. If they are weaklings, they just whistle round a bit. Oh, there is no end to the excitement in these hoary places.
“Besides the ghosts and skeletons, there are always a few dissatisfied retainers who welcome the first opportunity to polish off the living owners. They hang around,” Laura was entirely oblivious to the fact that she had, for once in her life, startled Nan, “in caves, abandoned buildings, and sometimes behind sliding doors, and appear on the slightest pretext.
“But never fear, my lassies,” her voice came from the depths of her case, as she searched around the bottom for a small gold bracelet, “the line of the lairds of Emberon has died out, the Princess tells me, and so there’s no one here to be polished off. We have nothing to worry about,” she ended as she found the bracelet and clasped it around her wrist, “except ghosts and skeletons.”
“And old Mr. Blake who is waiting downstairs for us, I am sure,” Nan added as she moved toward the doorway.
“He wouldn’t harm a hair of anyone’s head,” Rhoda joined Nan. “Are all the Blakes so nice?”
Nan didn’t answer. Both Laura and Rhoda hadbrought to mind one of the Blakes whom she was trying hard to forget—Robert Hugh Blake, the hunchback. She remembered suddenly that she had forgotten completely to reread the letter that had come to mind again those last days on the boat. Now, there was no time as together they went out, joined Dr. Prescott, and descended to the Great Hall where old James Blake was awaiting them.
“Are you all quite comfortable?” He smiled at the excited faces. It was good to have voices and laughter ringing through the rooms again. It reminded him of the old days when people were always about. In his mind’s eye he saw men returning from the hunt, couples dancing, great tables groaning with food, excited groups discussing politics, Christmas parties for the young folk, feasts for everyone, servants and all, on the master’s birthday.
Then, in a flash, for he was a religious soul, the vision changed, and it was Sunday morning. The Laird himself was at the head of the room, there near one of the two great fireplaces. The Bible was open before him, and he was reading to the household of Emberon, kneeling in the Great Hall before him.
Those had been the good days. James Blakewiped an involuntary tear out of his eye. He was an old man and tears came easily.
“Come, come,” he said gruffly as he nodded to the girls, “the carriage is waiting and already we are late.” He led the way out of the room to a side entrance. Soon the dull sound of the horses’ hoofs beating against the road was echoing back through the night to the castle, as the carriage wound its way down the road to the lighted village.
It was a gala scene that met their eyes as they drove into the village.
There, around a game field lighted by myriads of small electric bulbs, the whole population of the town was collected. Everyone was in holiday mood. All eyes were riveted on a brass band of kilted Highlanders marching up and down the field when Nan and her friends made their appearance. At a signal, the band struck up a happy welcoming tune as the girls were ushered directly to a group of seats opposite the very center of the field. Everyone stood up and clapped.
“Seems almost like the good old high school days at Tillbury,” Bess whispered to Nan, “I half expect a cheerleader to appear.”
“Sh!” The warning was Nan’s, for after the girls acknowledged the greeting by bowing and smiling and had seated themselves, the contests began.
First, there was the bagpipe competition. At opposite ends of the field on wooden platforms, raised so that everyone could see, the Angus MacPhersons,Donald MacDonalds, and James Mackenzies of the village marched very slowly around and around playing jigs and reels and all sorts of Scottish Highland tunes.
How weird the music seemed to the ears of the American girl! It wasn’t gay enough for Bess who liked only the jazz music that she could hear at home. She grew restless. But Nan and Laura, always interested in strange new things, sat on the very edge of their seats, anxious not to miss any detail of what was happening.
“How I’d like to awaken Mrs. Cupp some drizzly dark morning with bagpipe music!” Laura’s eyes danced merrily at the thought.
“You’d be expelled as sure as anything,” Nan whispered back. “Will you look at that?” She almost fell off the edge of the seat in her excitement.
The Highlanders had retired for a while and, racing across the field now, were teams of two men each, one pushing a wheelbarrow and the other in it. When they missed the goal, as they generally did, a bucket, suspended from a beam above the goal line, tipped and drenched the two with water, to the great amusement of the crowd.
“Oh, what fun!” Laura exclaimed. “Look! There goes another bucket over. He got it right in the face!”
“And look at the next one,” Bess was interestedtoo, now. “Is he going to get by safely? No, look, Nan!” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “The wheelbarrow and everything is going to go over now! Are they hurt?” She closed her eyes and looked the other way.
“Oh, Bess, they’re not hurt, they’re just half drowned,” Nan was laughing heartily. This was fun to watch, better than any circus. The crowd cheered and laughed and clapped and laughed again. “Tilting the Bucket” was one of the favorite Scottish games.
Next came the highpoint of the evening—the dancing of the Highland Fling and the Sword Dance. Such dancing! The tall, straight, skirted Highlanders with their white jackets and green kilts went from movement to movement, swinging rhythmically and gracefully, leaving the girls breathless at the end. The crowd applauded, long and loudly.
The dancers came back and did the Highland Fling over again. The crowd wouldn’t let them leave. They cheered and whistled. The dancers repeated again and again, each time doing it better than the last.
The group of three that finally won the evening’s prize, a five pound note, climaxed their conquest of the crowd by donating the money to the village coronation fund! The winner of the bagpipecontest followed suit and then the Broad Jump champion, the winner of the Mile Run and the Hurdle Races joined in. Before the crowd really realized what it was doing, everyone was throwing coins toward the center of the field. The band started to play “God Save the King!” Everyone stood up. They sang, first the English National Anthem and then Scotch song after Scotch song.
Finally the lights blinked. The band played “God Save the King” again and everyone moved slowly away. It had been a grand evening with some fifty pounds added to the village fund for a stupendous celebration on the day of the crowning of the King and Queen.
Nan and her friends shook hands with the committee that had planned the evening’s entertainment. Villager after villager stopped to talk with this young descendant of Hugh Blake who had come from far away America to see the old estate. They were simple folk, straightforward and honest in their appraisal of the brown-eyed American, but they found nothing to criticize. Somehow, Nan was able to make them feel that she was one of them, and as they went away gossiping about Old Hugh and young Nan, they all agreed that she was a “bonnie, bonnie lassie.”
The committee, escorting the visitors back tothe carriage, urged them to stay in Emberon for the coronation celebration.
“Aye, and it will be a gr-r-r-and day here,” William MacDonald, the chairman, urged. “In London, noo, I’ll gr-r-r-ant ye, it will be ver-r-ry guid too, but mind ye, ye cudna find no better celebration than the one here at Emberon. It’s ver-r-ry proud we are of his Royal Highness and her Ladyship. They pass here ver-r-ry often on their way to the North. Aye, and even once they stopped to watch the games. That was the time young MacDonald, my nephew, ye ken,” he explained proudly, “tossed the caber so high and over so cleanly, that the guid king himself, mind ye, shook him by the hand. Aye, and that was a gr-r-r-and day.” The old man stopped while he thought it all over again, remembering how he had stood right next to his nephew when the king congratulated him.
“Will ye stay?” He repeated his invitation, as with an effort, he shook the memory of that bygone day from his mind and came back to the present and the young Blake lass.
“Noo, and she cudna,” old James Blake stepped into the conversation. “Ither, bigger things,” he lapsed into the dialect of the villagers about him, “are hers in London town.”
Old MacDonald looked up. A flash of understanding passed between the two.
“Ye’re right, Jamie,” he said, “and she’s a right bonnie lass to carry on.”
With this, Nan and her friends were hurried along by James Blake toward the carriage, and in the moonlight, they drove up the steep hill toward the gray castle on the summit.
What a ride! Earlier in the evening, Grace had called it spooky. Now she said nothing, but just sat thinking, watching the tall old trees through the carriage window as the equipage rumbled along.
She thought of her mother and father and Walter and of the coming meeting in London. She thought of Nan and her brother and smiled. She thought—but the thought winged away, as the carriage swayed far over to the right, and James Blake stuck his head out and shouted to the driver, “Be careful there!” The carriage slowed down. Grace breathed easier. Then the warning was forgotten and the whole thing forged ahead again, bumping over stones and rocks and ruts.
The horses seemed possessed. The old carriage creaked and groaned under the strain. Momentarily, the passengers felt that the whole thing would topple over, or that the carriage, like the one-hoss shay, would collapse into a thousand pieces. Grace now was visibly frightened. Nan looked at her anxiously and gave a warning look to Bess whom, she was afraid, would break out in a tiradeagainst the carelessness of the driver. Finally, they rounded the sharp turn in the road which Nan remembered as just preceding the castle gates.
They all breathed easier. They could see the castle now, beyond the gates and beyond the drive. But just as they looked reassuringly at one another, just as old James Blake murmured, “Home again,” the carriage gave a sharp lurch. The horses stopped suddenly, stumbled, regained their balance, and then stood, shaking their heads vigorously. The carriage gave one mighty shake, shivered, and settled down to silence on its ancient springs.
Inside, the occupants were jolted one on top of the other. The girls unscrambled quickly. Young and hardy, the jolt did not hurt them, but old James Blake had toppled over so that he was lying senseless against the door.
Nan knelt down beside him. She pulled out a handkerchief and pushed his tousled hair back from his face. There was an ugly gash in his forehead. Dr. Prescott felt his pulse. It was faint. Together, they raised him to the seat.
They called for the coachman. There was no answer. They exchanged significant glances. “Do you suppose he was hurt, too?” Grace could hardly speak she was so frightened.
Laura made a move to get out, but as she did so old James Blake stirred. “Dinna go out there,” he murmured as he slowly opened his eyes. He looked around. His eyes found Nan and he reached out and touched her. “I dinna ken what it’s all aboot,” he said weakly and seemed about to drop off again. He caught himself.
He raised his hand and tried to push the door open. It was stuck. He knocked at it weakly with his fist. Then he kicked at it and it flew open.
“Hey, up there,” he called to the coachman.
There was no answer. He got out, slowly and painfully. Nan followed and took his arm. He patted hers reassuringly.
“Better take care, lass,” he murmured, half stumbling, half walking around to the front of the coach. Nan shook herself impatiently as an eerie feeling came over her. Nevertheless, it was comforting to hear someone descend from the coach at her back.
“Be careful, Nan.” Dr. Prescott’s voice came through the darkness.
“Can I help you?” It was Laura’s tone, low and confident.
“We’re all right,” Nan called back. She stood now, next to James Blake looking up at the coachman’s seat. It was empty!
What had happened? A number of possibilitiesflashed through Nan’s mind as she moved closer to James Blake. Had the driver been hurt and fallen down the other side? Had he jumped down and run away after the carriage stopped so suddenly? Had—had he been in the carriage at all during the wild drive up the hill?
She followed James Blake as he picked his way carefully around the whinnying horses. Was this all a part of the strange series of events that had seemed to pursue her ever since she knew for certain that she was to make this trip?
Nan stepped up beside the old Scotsman when he paused to examine the feet of one of the horses in passing. What did he know about all of this? She determined to ask him when they were alone again. Now, she took comfort in noting the kindly expression on his face as he rubbed the head of one of the horses that seemed to be hurt. The animal nuzzled his nose in the master’s hand.
“Easy now,” he encouraged and almost at once the animals stopped the impatient shaking of their heads.
They reached the other side of the coachman’s seat and fearfully looked around. There was nothing there. They walked back over the road for several yards. Still they found no signs of the missing person.
James Blake scratched his head reflectively.“Come, now,” he took Nan’s hand firmly in his, “come, stay close to me and we’ll clear this mystery up.” His voice sounded confident, but inside he was sure, as sure as he was of anything that this was no mere accident.
He felt the warmness of Nan’s hand in his. He noted her apparent fearlessness. “The lass should never have been allowed to come to Emberon,” he thought and was annoyed that his own desire to see her had allowed him, in the early months of the year, to persuade himself that it would be all right.
Why hadn’t he allowed the Edinburgh solicitors who had handled the estate carry out the final terms of the will of old Hugh without his meddling? Ah, but it was too late to think of that now. She was here and had to stay, at least for the night. Perhaps tomorrow he could send her on to Edinburgh. But now, now it was best to get her mind off this—accident. It was best to get her back in her apartment at Emberon. He could guard her there.
“Come, lass,” he spoke, as he turned from his search along the side of the road, “these things are not for young ladies. You and your friends must go back to the house. We’ll let someone from there make the necessary inquiry.”
“But what if the coachman is lying along theroad, hurt?” Nan protested. “If we wait, it might be too late to help him. Please, let me look down the road a way further.” She almost wrenched her hand free from his as she spoke.
“That’s a brave lass,” he complimented her. Nevertheless he didn’t let her go. He turned abruptly and started back toward the carriage. Against her will, she went along with him.
“Did you find him?” Laura was waiting beside the door of the carriage as they came up to it again.
Nan shook her head. What was this all about? Why had old James Blake stopped the search for the missing coachman so suddenly? Exhausted from the day’s events, the landing at Glasgow, the trip to Emberon, the excitement over the Scotch games, and then this mystery, she felt impatient with the old gentleman. She was still afraid that the coachman lay out there in the dark somewhere, injured.
Her feeling of impatience continued as James hustled the girls into the carriage, closed the door after them, and then walked alone to the big gate and pulled three times on the big bell rope.
In the stillness of the night, the girls, huddled in the carriage, could hear very faintly the sound of the bell up at the big house. Then they heard, or thought they heard, the sound of a door, footsteps,and at long last, there was someone at the gate. Though they couldn’t see anyone, they knew that James Blake was in whispered consultation.
Finally, there was the grating noise of the gates swinging back on rusty hinges. James Blake sent a man from the house to drive the carriage the rest of the way. The girls were glad to hear the slapping sound of the reins as the new driver put them in place over the horses’ backs.
The carriage pulled out of a rut, lunged forward and then came to a stop again.
“Careful!” The voice was that of the old steward. The driver tried again. This time a horse stumbled.
“Whoa, there,” James Blake ordered, “we canna drive them. The poor beastie is hurt.”
So it happened that at sometime after midnight, six Lakeview Hall girls and Dr. Prescott got out of a carriage and walked along the lonely entrance road to Emberon Castle.
They were all wary as they picked their way over the dry rutted road, but Nan more so than any of them. Even as James Blake felt responsible for her, so she felt responsible for her friends. There was small comfort now, in this lonely place, in the memory that the hunchback had told Bess that “these things had no part of her.” The accident, if such it might be called, on the hill just now, might very well have killed them all. Nan shuddered as she thought of how serious it might have been.
She peered this way and that into the tangle of bushes, grass, and thistles along the way, not knowing what she was looking for, but suspicious of every dark shadow.
Once, she looked gratefully up at the sky, the big moon, and the bright stars. She stumbled.
“No star gazing tonight,” Laura steadied her as she almost fell. “And what a moon, and what a sky, and what a shadow.” Laura pointed off to the right. “Look,” she whispered, half in fun, half in seriousness, “look, it’s like a man carrying something long in his hand.”
Nan’s glance followed Laura’s. The shadow—was it a man’s? She watched it. Was it moving? Then she breathed a deep sigh.
“Oh, Laura,” she chided her friend, “it’s only a tree! Will you stop teasing?”
“What was a tree?” Grace was on edge too, anxious to get inside, anxious to get away from this castle that had seemed so wonderful and so grand only a few hours ago.
“Nothing, Grace.” Nan tried to keep her own voice from seeming worried as she spoke. “Laura’s seeing things in the dark.”
Grace didn’t answer, because she had been seeing things too. In the face of Nan’s quietness and calmness, it did seem silly. With this thought, she felt encouraged and looked more bravely around her. An owl hooted. She jumped. All the girls jumped. It was Dr. Prescott’s voice this time that calmed them down.
“Almost there, girls!” her voice actually sounded cheery in the night.
“Aye, and safely too.” Old James Blake had been particularly silent since they left the carriage. Now, he spoke with a great sense of relief. Already he could see that a door was open and inside there was light and security.
He stepped his foot on the first of the broad stone steps and stood there as the girls walked onup through the door and into the light of the great hall. After watching them disappear, he turned, gave one last penetrating glance into the night, but saw nothing to disturb him further. He listened then for the sound of the horses, heard one whinny. It was a rather pleasant, comforting sound. He was satisfied that they were being properly cared for, so he too walked up the steps, conscious now for the first time that the wound in his forehead ached and that his head hurt.
The pain angered him. Again he turned away from the light. This time, he shook his fist at the unseen forces out there in the dark.
“Ye’ll not do her harm,” he said, “as long as James Blake can fight.” With this, he set his chin firmly and followed the American lassies into the castle.
Already, at Dr. Prescott’s insistence they had found their way to their rooms. She lingered in the apartment until they had undressed and were safely in bed. Then she herself carefully closed their doors before she returned to the Hall where James Blake was sitting before the big open fireplace, puzzling over the whole situation.
“Your head, is it injured badly?” There was a real note of concern in her voice as she spoke. She liked this old Scotsman, even if she couldn’t understand the ways of his household.
“It’s nothing at all,” he waived all consideration of himself. “Are the lassies all right?” He nodded his head in the direction of the stairs.
Dr. Prescott knew by his tone that his entire thought was for them. “Quite all right at present,” she answered as she sat down in the chair he had pulled out for her with a quaint courtly sort of grace. “Now, tell me,” she entreated, “what is this all about? What happened down on the hill?”
He didn’t answer at once, but sat thinking. Should he tell as much of the story as he knew? Would it help or hinder this woman to know? For a moment he sat appraising her. She looked capable enough, he decided, but then, there was no telling about women. He shook his head and winced, without thinking, at the pain. After all, he decided finally, this pleasant looking woman was Nan’s guardian in the absence of her mother and father. It was only fair that she know everything that he did. Then, too, if things worked out rightly, she would have to be Nan’s sponsor in the whole London business.
Dr. Prescott, though she couldn’t read his thoughts exactly, knew, from her long experience with people, approximately what was going on in his mind. She sat silent while she saw him coming to his decision.
Eventually, he spoke. “You know, of course,” he said, “the story of Mrs. Sherwood’s inheritance?” Dr. Prescott nodded her head. “And why Nancy is here?” he continued.
Dr. Prescott was a little puzzled at this question. “Why—yes,” she agreed slowly, “to see the estate.”
“Yes, in part.” James Blake seemed to be feeling his way along now. “That is the reason that was given, at least, for our anxiety to have her come, that and the fact that we wanted to see her. An old man’s whim, you know, that is what Nan’s mother, bless her heart, thought. But actually, there is more behind this than appears on the surface.
“Old Hugh Blake was more of a power in this section of Scotland than most people of this generation realize,” he went on. “The Blake family, in the beginning of Scotland’s history, was, if you will pardon my saying so, for I, too, am one of his descendants, because of its wealth and intelligence, very close to the royal family. However, the old line gradually died out. This explains how it happened Mrs. Sherwood inherited the estate.
“But in the old days, when the clans hereabouts practically ruled the country, the Blakes of Emberon were frequently called to London to advise the king’s ministers. At such times they were generallyrewarded in one way or another. Sometimes it was with land, sometimes with important foreign posts, sometimes with court privileges that were highly prized in those days. Yes, and highly respected,” he added, as the thought of the day’s happenings again crossed his mind.
“So it happened that Hugh Blake the fourth, the original Laird of Emberon—it was he who built this Hall we are sitting in—back in the sixteenth century performed a service to the King that won for him an ambassadorship to France. It was a particularly ticklish post then, for France and Scotland and England were continually having trouble.
“Well, Hugh Blake, he is supposed to have been a very charming young man at the time, gifted and well-educated, became a favorite at the French court, and well-beloved of the French king. So it was, that once, in the tangled history of the time, he succeeded in getting some concessions from the French that were most advantageous to the English.
“London and the court there was so pleased with young Hugh that they bestowed on him and his descendants forever the privilege of assisting at the coronation of English kings.” His voice was excited and nervous as he finished the sentence.
“You understand what I am saying?” The oldman looked at Dr. Prescott intently. Then he shook his head.
“Perhaps I don’t make myself quite clear,” he added. “The simple fact is,” he explained further, “that Mrs. Sherwood’s inheritance carried with it the right to assist at the present coronation! Moreover, her great uncle, Hugh Blake, who got his name from the old line, specified to those of us who were his friends, that young Nan, if she seemed to us to be worthy, should be the one to carry on! That is why we wanted her to come. That is why the villagers were so anxious to see her. And that is why,” he lowered his voice now, “I was fearful of her safety out there this night.”
“You mean there is some opposition?” Dr. Prescott asked when she found her voice after this amazing story had been told.
“Yes, on the part of one or two,” the old man admitted, “who think, and wrongly so, that if some means can be found to prevent Nan’s taking part at the crowning this spring, they will be able to prove their right to carry on when the court of claims, where such things are argued before the king’s representatives, meets a few days hence in London.”
“Does Mrs. Sherwood know of all of this?” Dr. Prescott asked further.
“Not yet. This portion of the inheritance wasbestowed under the terms of another will which was put in my keeping by Hugh Blake. The Edinburgh solicitors who handled the estate for Mrs. Sherwood when she and her husband were here, know this story I have told you, however. Even now, they are awaiting word from me as to how to proceed. They are anxious, too, for Nan to come. Tonight, with your consent,” he continued, “I will send off a cable to America, explaining the circumstances. We will not proceed until we hear from Nancy’s parents.”
Somewhere in the large rooms of the old castle a clock now chimed slowly, one, two, three.
Dr. Prescott looked at her watch. “Will you be so kind,” she said as she arose from her chair, “as to wait and send that cable in the morning? What you have told me here tonight has come so unexpectedly that I’d like an hour or two to think it over before communicating with Nan’s parents.”
“You don’t object,” James Blake seemed startled at the mere thought, “to Nan’s taking part in the coronation?”
“None whatsoever,” Dr. Prescott hastened to assure him. “It will be a great privilege and honor indeed, doubly so, because she is an American girl.”
“Aye, that has been some of the cause fortrouble,” he said, “with the people hereabouts. They didn’t want the honor to go across the seas. But Nancy’s mother, when she came over to take possession of the estate quite won the heart of everyone. Now Nancy has done the same. There will be no more trouble of that sort,” he promised, “and no more trouble of any kind, if I can help it.” He finished the sentence belligerently.
His own fighting mood brought back to Dr. Prescott’s mind the accident in the carriage.
“Do you know at all what happened tonight?” she asked.
“You mean what caused the accident?” he parried, for here was something he did not want to talk about as yet.
“Yes.”
“I am not certain as yet,” he admitted half the truth, “but if you will have faith in an old man and leave your question rest for a few hours,” he was very serious as he spoke, “I will answer it later. There is no need for you to worry,” he concluded. With this he walked with her over to the stairway and watched her as she went up.
Alone in the hall now, he rang a bell and called for the servant who had been left with the carriage.
Somewhere on the estate a cock crowed.
Nan stirred sleepily and turned over. The cock crowed triumphantly again. Nan turned once more and saw that the morning sun was filtering in through the heavy drapes at the windows. She rubbed her eyes and stretched. She looked around. Where was she? Then she spied the ancestral portraits frowning down upon her and she remembered everything.
So she had slept after all! She remembered vaguely an urge the night before to stay awake and watch to see that nothing happened. Why, it was music that had lulled her to sleep! She remembered it now, the faint far away sound of a bagpipe playing. It had been like a dream, for with the wind around the castle and the creaking of the old floors, she had been completely unable to follow the thread of the tune. It had come, died away, and come again. In trying to follow it, she had fallen asleep at last.
Now she lay listening. There were no sounds at all to be heard in the old castle. She got up quietly, slipped into her robe and slippers, andwalked softly over to the windows, careful all the while not to disturb anyone. She pulled the curtains back and stood looking down on the castle grounds, seeing them in the daylight for the first time.
The big gray stone building she was in, she could see now, was built on a pinnacle so that on all sides there were valleys below. She remembered what Dr. Beulah had said the night before about the old castles. Now she saw in imagination the leaders of clans in days gone by standing where she was, watching the approach of the enemy below.
She peopled the towers that she could see with beautiful princesses, the crumbling walls of the older unused parts of the castle with knights in armor, singing, talking, laughing, and fighting. She imagined all sorts of plots and counterplots, and now in the valleys there was grain growing and cattle grazing! How pretty it looked in the early morning sunshine! So different than it had seemed the night before!
Now she thought again of the accident on the hill. What had caused it? Could she learn more by daylight than she had been able to by night? A bird sang cheerily outside. Another flew across her line of vision. Everything seemed to be beckoning her to come out and explore. She turned from thewindow and dressed hastily. Perhaps she could solve last night’s mystery by going down the hill. Perhaps she could solve it and set everyone’s mind at rest!
She opened the door carefully and walked slowly down the big staircase into the Great Hall. There James Blake was asleep before the big fireplace where the embers of last night’s fire were still burning. She saw that his head was bandaged and that he looked tired and worried, even in sleep. She couldn’t know that he had dropped off only a half hour before from sheer exhaustion. He had spent the few hours remaining after his talk with Dr. Prescott and his servant in personally watching to see that nothing further happened.
Now, as he slept, she walked quietly past his back. He stirred and muttered something. She stopped. He sank back into quiet sleep and she went on and out, opening the door carefully and closing it the same.
James Blake stirred again and awakened then with a start. He looked around. “Auld fool!” he muttered. “Sleeping, when ye’d set yourself to watch those lassies.” He got up and walked around the room. Everything seemed to be all right. Stiff from his night in the chair he stretched, threw a knotted log of wood on the fire, and then rang for a servant.
“The young lassies upstairs are tired,” he said. “See that everything is kept quiet so they will sleep until late. Before the day is over, they will be off to Edinburgh.” So it was not until hours after she had slipped through the door, walked down the road past the bushes that had seemed such a menace the night before, and passed through the gate, that Nan’s disappearance was discovered.
It was Bess who missed her first. Awakening much later than Nan, she lay for some time enjoying the luxury of the room in which she slept. She noted every detail of the furnishings and determined that when she returned to school in the fall, nothing of all this would be lost in the telling. She half hoped that she would have the opportunity to tell Linda Riggs. In her mind’s eye, she picked out one or two others that she would like to impress. No one that she knew, she thought with satisfaction, had ever even seen such a place as this old castle, much less stayed in one.
The more she thought of it, the grander it seemed. A little feeling of envy came over her. Why was it that the nice things that happened to Nan never happened to her? Why couldn’t her father or mother have a place like this? Bess was a thoughtless unappreciative little person at times. Though her father and mother gave her everythingwithin their means, she was still dissatisfied. Her hand touched the satin cover that was over her. As quickly as the feeling of envy had come, it went. She listened for sounds. Was Nan awake in the next room?
She got up and stuck her head in through the door. The bed was empty! Was everyone except herself up? She went across the hall to Laura’s room, and found her still sleeping. She looked in the big double room where Amelia and Grace were. They were sleeping too. So was Rhoda. She debated once as to whether or not she should look into Dr. Prescott’s apartment. “I don’t dare to do that,” she decided, “Nan’s probably downstairs waiting for us. Maybe she will come up, if I stay here.”
She went back into her own room, and because she was cold, she crawled back into bed. But then her curiosity as to Nan’s whereabouts got the better of her. Maybe Nan was out exploring! It would be fun to walk around the castle grounds!
She dressed almost as quickly as Nan had, slipped out quietly too, and went downstairs.
“Weel, lassie,” James Blake greeted her as she entered the big hall. “Ye’re up bright and early this morning.”
“But I’m not the first,” Bess smiled back, “Where’s Nan?”
“Why, the lass is still asleep,” he began heartily, and then noting the puzzled expression on Bess’s face, he added, “Isn’t she?” A world of possibilities came to his mind as he asked the question and he repeated it before Bess could answer. “Tell me quickly, isn’t she upstairs? Isn’t she with her other friends, with the school mistress? Isn’t she about up there some place?”
Bess was frightened too now and turned. “I’ll ask Dr. Prescott,” she called over her shoulder as she went up the stairs. “Shall I?”
“Aye, lass, and be quick!” Old James Blake followed her half way up the stairs.
But Dr. Prescott, awake herself in her apartment, heard their voices, and came out on the landing. “Is there anything wrong?” Before the question was answered, she knew the response. “Nan’s missing!” For a moment the two older people stood with Bess between them looking hopelessly into one another’s faces. Then they all got busy.
A hurried check of Nan’s room showed that what they feared most had not happened. The young girl had left the apartment of her own accord. She had not been kidnapped, at least not while in her room. “She’s probably just gone exploring.”Bess took the whole thing calmly at first, for she knew Nan’s habits.
“Aye, maybe so,” old James Blake agreed, “but ’tis better to have her here with us. We’ll all do our exploring together.” With this, he called the servants and tried to check on Nan’s movements. No one had seen her.
A search was organized. Everyone was sent to a different part of the estate. Old James Blake himself climbed to the top of the highest tower and looked out over the grounds. He came down sadly.
There was no Nan to be seen or found anyplace.
“I just can’t believe things won’t turn out all right!” Bess exclaimed, as she and her other Lakeview Hall friends sat together in Nan’s room in the great castle. “And I hate having to stay here! I don’t see why they can’t let us help too! After all, Nan’s our friend and if she is in trouble, we ought to be allowed to help her get out of it.”
“But Bess,” Rhoda spoke softly, “they told us to stay here so that we would be handy in case we were needed. I’m sure that if there was anything at all in the world that we could do, Dr. Prescott would call us.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Bess answered. “She treats us most of the time as though we were babies. It happens this time,” she continued with some satisfaction, “that we know more than anyone about what has been going on.”
“What do you mean?” Laura spoke up now.
“Well, for one thing,” Bess began, “we know about the hunchback and nobody else does.”
“Do you think he has anything to do with this?” Laura looked at Bess intently. “After all,you know, no one is certain but what Nan has just gone out and lost herself. You all know how she likes to wander around strange places by herself.”
“I said that downstairs, myself,” Bess answered, “but I don’t believe it at all. Nan wouldn’t worry us like this. Moreover, when we got on the train at Glasgow I thought I saw that old hunchback getting on, too. I didn’t say anything about it then, because I didn’t want to spoil the good time we were having. But I’m sure I saw him.” She waited, watching the effect of her announcement on the others.
“Well, that settles it,” Laura got up, “I’m going right downstairs now and tell them about him. Maybe it will help them to find Nan.”
“Don’t you do that.” It was Bess who stopped her. “We promised Nan we wouldn’t say anything about him and we’re not going to. Anyway, Dr. Prescott would be angry to know that those things happened on the boat and that we didn’t tell her. You know she would, and it would spoil all the rest of our trip.”
“Maybe Bess is right,” Grace agreed timidly. “Maybe we had just better wait for a while and see what happens.”
“We’ll wait for two hours,” Amelia looked at her watch, “and if Nan hasn’t come back by then, I think we should tell everything we know. Itreally might help Mr. Blake. He seems terribly worried.”
“Yes, there’s something more to this than we know about, I’m sure. I heard Dr. Prescott and him talking about sending for some people in the village to help join in the search.”
“Have they done it?” Bess asked quickly.
“I don’t believe so,” Laura answered. “She asked him to wait, to give Nan time to come back if she had wandered off by herself. She doesn’t want any of this to get into the newspapers, if she can help it.”
“Oh, if it does, it will frighten all our people back home and we’ll have to go back right away, I know,” Bess was worried at this thought. “Why didn’t Nan stay here with us?”
“Maybe we ought to tell all that we know now,” Rhoda returned to the question that had been set aside a few moments before. “It certainly can’t do any harm. Dr. Prescott probably will scold us, but that’s nothing beside the risk of harming Nan by not telling.”
“Rhoda’s right,” Laura got up once more, “and I don’t care what the rest of you think, I’m going downstairs now and tell. I just can’t stand sitting here any longer and not doing anything.”
“All right, then,” Bess gave in, for she too wasbecoming tired of just waiting. “Let’s all go down together. Are the rest of you agreed?”
Grace still seemed reluctant to go, for she was one to obey orders and felt that if the people downstairs wanted them, they would call. She said something of this to her friends.
“Oh, Grace, don’t be so afraid,” Laura was impatient with her now, “You can just bet that, if they thought we had anything at all worth telling, they would have asked us long ago. Now, come on, don’t be a baby.”
“Maybe it isn’t worth telling.” Grace was growing stubborn now.
“Well, all I can say is,” Laura replied to this, “that if the fact that a mysterious person went through Nan’s luggage once and then followed her from the time we got off the boat until we got here isn’t worth telling, then nothing is. Now, come on.”
There was no more argument. Together the girls went downstairs to where James Blake and Dr. Prescott were holding consultation with two villagers who had been called in when Dr. Prescott had finally given her consent to ask for outside help.
“You understand,” James Blake was saying, as they entered, “the lassie has gone off by herself and been lost. There is to be no word of anythingelse told to anyone, but we want a thorough search made of every likely hiding place in the neighborhood. No one would hurt her, but as you both know, there might be good reason to keep her in hiding until after the good king is crowned. Now, mind you, hold your tongues, and report back to me as quickly—” He left the sentence unfinished as he saw the girls.
“What is it lassies?” He smiled reassuringly down at them.
Laura plunged into her story without any preliminaries.
“And he was—a hunchback—red headed—with strange eyes?” The old man seemed to grow much older even as he repeated the words. “Then it is as I feared. The man we want is Robert Hugh Blake, my own poor, misguided brother!”
He rubbed his hand across his face, as he spoke. For a moment, he looked as though the whole thing was more than he could possibly stand.
Those in the room watched him silently, feeling at once how deeply he was hurt. To Bess alone, the name, Robert Hugh Blake, had a familiar ring. As she heard it, her thoughts flashed back to the last day on the boat when she had surprised the hunchback at Nan’s luggage. She remembered Nan’s revelation then, rememberedher own puzzling over a clue that just escaped her memory.
Now, she puckered her brows over it again and tried to go back further over the things that had happened. There! No, it didn’t quite come. She tried harder, sure now that the fact that was escaping her had an important bearing upon the present mystery. She went back in time over the scenes on the boat, their farewells to their parents, the trip to New York, the last days at school, the worry when for so long they didn’t receive any letters—
There, she had it now! It was a letter, the mysterious letter Nan had read in their room at Lakeview! It was the letter Nan had refused to explain, although it had left her nervous and excited! Bess remembered the scene all quite clearly now. She knew now, as she knew then, that Nan’s explanation that it made her homesick wasn’t the truth. She knew that that letter had been the beginning of all their troubles!
Without thinking further, she blurted out what she knew about it. James Blake, Dr. Prescott, everyone in the room listened intently to everything that Bess had to say. For once, she made a clean breast of everything and told all that she knew of what had been happening.
“And where, lassie, is that letter?” JamesBlake made a distinct effort to forget his own sorrow at the turn of events. Action was needed now.
“I don’t know, unless it is in her bags,” Bess started upstairs at once. “I’ll go look.” At last she felt important, as though she was doing her part to help locate Nan.
But much as she wanted to, she couldn’t find the note in question. She looked over everything most thoroughly, admiring, even in her excitement, the extreme neatness of Nan’s bags. But she found nothing unusual at all. She went slowly back downstairs and reported.
“Did you ever see the letter at all?” Dr. Prescott questioned her, “the envelope, the stamps, or the postmark?”
Bess shook her head, wishing now that when she had first noticed Nan sitting troubled over it, she had insisted on knowing what it was all about. “If I hadn’t been so interested in that old memory book,” she thought regretfully, “I might have known more now.”
But regrets were of no use, now. All in the room felt regrets in one form or another, but that did not bring Nan back.
Old James Blake had sat silently by, during Dr. Prescott’s questioning, knowing that she thought as he did, that the letter Nan had received inLakeview was some sort of warning as to what would happen to her, if she left the United States. He knew, too, that in asking about the postmark, she was trying to find out whether or not it had been mailed in Scotland.
“There is only one thing to do,” he spoke rather sadly, “and much as I hate to have it happen, I must tell you to do it. You must ring that bell over there, call for a servant, and either go yourself or have him go and report this whole thing to the authorities. It’s a case, I think, for Scotland Yard.”
“You are sure that that is the only course?” Dr. Prescott was most sympathetic.
“Yes, I am sure,” the old man said, “My brother, the one whom you all call the hunchback, was injured during the late war so that he was deformed for life and his mind was affected. He has, since his discharge from the hospital, been a recluse, refusing to see anyone except myself and a very few friends. He has spent most of his time searching old family records with the aim in view of writing a family history.
“He has always loved this estate and felt, for no very good reason, that he and I were the logical heirs. When it passed to someone across the water, the blow almost killed him. However, he recovered, and we kept him under close guardwhen Nancy’s parents were here some time ago.
“Apparently, after their departure, since they left the care of the place in our hands, he was resigned to what had happened. However, when the old king died and he saw that our old Scotch privilege of taking part in the coronation was given to an American, the old wound was reopened. For days he was like a mad man around here. Then he quieted down, and I thought that he was accepting fate again. When he disappeared some weeks ago, I made a quiet search. Unable to find out anything, I let the matter rest, hoping against hope that he had gone into retirement as he often has in recent years.
“What must have happened you know as well as I. That he is somewhere in this vicinity, I am certain, as certain as I am that he was the driver of the coach last night on the wild drive up the hill. Why it was that he stopped, that he didn’t carry out what I think was his original intention, to drive you all over the embankment, I can only guess.
“It wasn’t for fear of losing his own life, I know. I believe that it was concern for me. We have always been very fond of one another.”
He said this last simply, and made a motion, as no one else moved, to go himself and pull the bell chord.
“Wait!” Dr. Prescott gave the command as the old Scotsman raised his arm to pull the chord. “Someone’s coming!”
With one impulse, everyone in the room turned toward the door. They were all tense as it was opened from without and a group of villagers entered with Robert Hugh Blake in their midst!
“I tell you,” he was protesting, “I don’t know where the lassie is.” His eyes were wild and staring as he spoke. “I tell you I don’t——” He broke off his sentence when his eyes lighted on his brother. His whole attitude changed. “James, I don’t know where she is,” he almost whimpered.
James Blake stepped over to his brother’s side. He motioned to the others in the room to keep quiet.
“There, there, Bobby,” he spoke as he would to a child, “Of course you don’t know where she is now. But where was she when you last saw her?”
“Down in the old gatehouse at the foot of the hill.” Robert Blake answered. He was accustomed to obeying his brother. “But I didn’t hurt her, notat all.” His voice was earnest as he spoke and so sincere, that even Dr. Prescott, worried as she was, believed him.
“I was there playing on the bagpipe,” he continued, “as I always do, when she came in through the door. I swear that that’s the truth. She sat and talked to me for a long time. She’s a sweet little lassie. Then I excused myself and went out for something, telling her that I would be right back. But I locked the door behind me. I was going to keep her there until it was too late for you to find her, but I had forgotten something——” he paused as though he couldn’t remember what it was.
“Your bagpipe,” James Blake supplied.
“Yes, that was it. It was my bagpipe,” he went on looking at his brother throughout his confession. “When I opened the door again, she wasn’t there! How she got away I don’t know.”
“Well, I do!” James Blake’s exclamation fell like a thunderbolt on the rapt listeners. “I know where she is,” he repeated, “And I’ll have her here in a minute now!”
“Have who?” Everyone look around startled. It was Nan’s voice!
James Blake went over to her side. “Then you found it, lass! You found it!” His voice rang out through the Hall. “I might have known you wouldfind it!” In his joy, he forgot completely that the assembled crowd didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Found what?” Dr. Prescott asked the question everyone had on his tongue.
“The passage, the secret passage from the old gatehouse to the castle here,” he answered. “Only a few know of its existence. Evidently my brother here has forgotten. How did you find it, lass?”
“I scarcely know,” Nan admitted. “When I found myself locked up, I tried all sorts of ways of getting out without any success at all. I was standing on a chair and trying to climb to that window high above——”
“But that’s impossible, lass,” James Blake interrupted.
“I know,” Nan agreed, “but I was so anxious to get out of there that nothing seemed impossible. Climbing up as I did, I felt closer to the outside anyway. I thought, too, that there was a slight chance of my getting hold of those rough stones that the walls are made of in such a way that I could climb up to the window.
“I couldn’t, of course, but in trying, my foot slipped into a nick of some kind in the wall. I pressed down hard on it, hoping to boost myself up. I couldn’t. I slipped. I fell. When I picked myself up, I saw that a sliding panel on the oppositewall had moved to one side leaving a great opening.
“I went through. It closed then. I walked on through the dark, and after what seemed ages, I came to the end. I groped around, knowing that there had to be something to make another panel move. Finally, I found it.”
“That you did, lass,” James Blake was beaming on her now, “and there’s not another in England or Scotland or America either that would have found the same. I am proud of you, so proud of you that I’d like to have you stay here always. But that’s not to be. Already there are things afoot that require your presence and the presence of your friends in London.”
“In London! I know, but we’re not leaving here yet, are we?” Nan’s voice was almost pleading. “Not when we’ve just come.”
“Yes, lass, that you are.” James Blake was regretful, too. “But you’ll be coming back.”
“But why, why must we leave so soon?” Nan had learned just enough in her morning adventures about the grounds to make her want to explore every inch of the old castle. She had even considered, on her walk down the road and through the fields to the fateful gatehouse, the possibility of staying in Emberon through the coronation.
She had toyed with the idea of giving up the great London celebration so that she could live in the castle for a while. She had dismissed the thought, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Mason and Walter were to be in London. She was to meet the friends she had made on the boat there, and the London celebration at the crowning of the new King and Queen would be, she knew, grander than anything she had ever seen.
She wanted to go on to London and she wanted to stay here in Emberon, too! These things all rushed through her mind as she stood in the great old Hall talking to James Blake.
“Yes, lass,” he repeated, “you’ve got to go. There’s something waiting there for you that’s far greater than anything that’s ever happened to you before.
“You, in America, I don’t know what you play when you are wee tots, but the children here are kings and queens when they play. A wooden box is their throne. With a lace curtain as a train for the queen then, and gold paper for a crown, they have all the trappings of royalty. All take part. Some are aids to the king. Others, to the queen.
“They live and breathe this from the time they first begin to notice things around them. So when the old king dies and the new king and queen come to live at Buckingham Palace and go to WestminsterCathedral to have the state crowns, gold with all sorts of precious jewels in them, put on their heads and the state swords put in their hands, then all the wee tots pretend they are ladies-in-waiting to the queen or gentlemen attendants of the king.
“When they see the grand pictures every place of the crowning at Westminster, they imagine themselves giving a sword to the king or helping to arrange the train of the queen. Aye, in imagination they are all there in that beautiful Cathedral helping with the service.
“But actually, only a few are so honored in real life. The privilege to assist at the crowning of the English king is passed down by great families from generation to generation.” He paused here to let the young lassies get the full importance of his words.
Nan looked from him to her friends. What was this all about? What did it have to do with her going to London? Dr. Prescott seemed to know! She was smiling down at Nan. The other girls, did they know, too? They seemed to understand. Their faces were radiant as the old Scotsman spoke, for the truth is, they were understanding for the first time what James Blake had meant an hour before. He had said something then aboutthe privilege of taking part in the coronation going across the water. Could he have meant——
Now they all looked up at him as he concluded. “Nancy dear,” he said, “as you know, the old Blake line has died out. Those who would have carried out the ancient privilege of assisting at the present crowning in London are dead. However, under terms of the will of the late Hugh Blake, you” he spoke low and slowly now, but very distinctly, “are chosen to act as a lady-in-waiting to the queen, God bless her soul! That is why you must be off to London now.”