The Road Beneath Me

by Jessica Blair

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

When Kate Swan's overbearing father demands that she obey him by marrying a man she despises, she refuses and is cast out of her comfortable home in Whitby. Fortunately, a kindly local widow is looking for a lady companion and, for the moment, Kate's future is assured. Meanwhile in Shetland, Malcolm McFadden, heir to the Garstan Estate, disagrees with his father's plan to clear the crofters from his land and turn it over to sheep. The fate of one crofter's daughter in particular greatly troubles him, and he proposes to defy convention by marrying Rowena Murray, but she hesitates, and Malcolm leaves Shetland on his own.

When he and Kate meet, they are instantly attracted to one other, but while Kate fulfills one last obligation to her generous employer Mrs Jordan - accompanying her on a Lakeland tour - Malcolm receives the news he has long dreaded. The Highland Clearances have begun, and old loyalties draw Malcolm back to Shetland where he vanishes without trace.

Will Kate's love and determination win through, enabling her to discover what has become of Malcolm? Or will his old ties to Rowena, his first love, prove too strong, and cause Kate to regret the road she has travelled?

Release date: February 2, 2012

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 400

Sample

It was a day Kathleen Swan would never forget: 12 August 1832, the day that changed her life.

From the window-seat in her room, she looked up from her copy of The Last of the Mohicans and swept her gaze across the River Esk and Whitby’s red roofs climbing the East Cliff, to the ancient church and ruined abbey at the top. From its position high on the West Cliff, her room gave her a panoramic view from the sea and all along the river to the busy quays beyond the drawbridge. She sighed; not because of any real discontent but because, at nineteen, she felt that maybe life was passing her by.

Most young women of Kate’s age anticipated marriage to an eligible beau, fearing the life of a spinster who would be looked down on with their future left dependent on the charity of relations or others. Her elder brothers, Archie and Samuel, were both married, and her sister Dorothea, a year younger than Kate, had her eye on Ben Crichton. It wasn’t as if Kate herself had not received proposals but, unlike some girls she knew, she had not chosen the prospect of security over a love match. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had dreamed of the day she would meet the ‘knight in shining armour’ who would sweep her off her feet and into a world of pure happiness. She sighed again. Had she been foolish? Had she allowed that girlish dream to mislead her? Should she have married without waiting for love? She shook her head, annoyed with herself for doubting her own scruples. No, it was the right course for her. She could do nothing else.

She looked back at the printed words, hoping to direct her thoughts to this stirring tale of adventure.

She was aware of movement outside and a swift glance out of the window brought surprise – her father returning home in the middle of the morning? She had never known him do this; something very important must be bringing him back at this time. During the next ten minutes she heard various comings and goings which all seemed to centre around his study. Curious, but realising she would probably never be told what was going on, she turned her attention back to her book.

So absorbed had she become that she did not realise someone had approached her door until there was a knock on it. Kate looked up.

‘Come in.’

The door opened and a maid took a step inside.

‘Yes, Agnes?’

‘The master wants to see you in his study, miss.’

Surprise brought a moment’s hesitation then Kate said, ‘Thank you, Agnes.’

The girl bobbed a little curtsey and left.

Kate sat still for a moment. Her heartbeat had speeded up a little. What did her father want? Was it connected with his unusually early return? She’d better not keep him waiting. She stood, flicking away a loose thread from her high-necked spencer before smoothing down the pale yellow dress that fell from its tight-fitting waist to her ankles. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, primed her copper-coloured hair with swift movements of her delicate fingers, and left the room.

Kate tripped lightly down the stairs, but slowed at the bottom. Her bright blue eyes lost some of their sparkle as she wondered what awaited her behind the heavy, dark-oak door. She could not account for it but the sense of foreboding that began to grip her then made her want to turn and run away. But she knew it would do her no good. She had to face her father. A far from easy man, he was hard if not cruel. She knew there were times when he had laid hand on her brothers in anger, but he had never once struck her or Dorothea, though they had felt the lash of his tongue. He always expected their instant obedience. It was understood he would direct their lives, and not them.

Kate took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She crossed the hall, knocked on the door and entered the room with its heavy, forbidding atmosphere. Her father sat behind his desk, stiff and upright, his eyebrows drawn close, his dark eyes penetrating. The formality of his pose was matched by the room’s furnishings: a dark-oak desk with matching sideboard and chairs. One wall was lined with books, another adorned with paintings of a dark forest. The gloom was alleviated only by light from a large window overlooking the garden.

But today, to Kate’s surprise, another person was present. Her mother sat in a chair drawn up at an angle to one of the corners of the desk. Another chair was positioned at the other corner; so that each of them could see the other two without having to turn their head. Kate realised this had all been carefully arranged and, coupled with her mother’s presence, it suggested a serious matter was about to be broached.

Without a word, her father indicated she should sit in the vacant chair. Kate did as she had been bidden, and sat down, back straight, hands resting primly in her lap, waiting for him to speak.

Not being a man to ease his way gradually into a subject, Titus Swan came straight to the point. ‘It’s time you married, Kate. You have shown no inclination to accept any of the eligible young men who have come courting you, so I am making arrangements with Mr Garfield for you to marry his only child. Cyrus will be calling on you a week today,’ he brusquely informed her.

This bare announcement, with no consideration for how she might feel regarding the matter, chilled Kate to the very core. She had never thought she would be offered to such a man. Cyrus Garfield? One word repeated itself in her mind. Never! Never! Never!

Kate glanced at her mother’s pale, expressionless face and realised she was looking at someone who had herself been tied into a loveless marriage. Oh, Emma Swan had wanted for nothing; there was always sufficient money coming in from her husband’s rope and sail manufactory, now well established in the thriving port of Whitby. She ran the house to her husband’s liking, with the help of a housekeeper, but now Kate knew why, within this household, her mother had always turned for companionship to her children.

In that moment Kate knew she did not want a life like her mother’s. With that unshakable conviction came deliberate and immediate defiance.

She gave voice to the word that was crying out to be heard. ‘Never!’ Kate jumped up from her chair, shaking but determined not to back down. ‘Never! I’ll never marry Cyrus Garfield!’ she yelled, and then lowered her voice to repeat, ‘Never!’

Titus scowled, eyes dark with anger at this unexpected insubordination. ‘Sit down, girl.’ His voice was harsh but Kate defiantly remained standing. Titus’s hands were resting on the desktop and Kate saw he had clenched them until his knuckles were white. She sensed her mother stiffen, but knew Emma would make no intervention. She would not dare. ‘Sit down!’ hissed Titus between tight-drawn lips.

Kate knew if she did her position would be weakened; her father would see this as a further chance to exert his authority. She remained standing.

His gaze was penetrating but Kate met and held it with equal tenacity. She did not waver and knew her father was shocked by the strength of her resistance. Keeping her tone even, she told him, ‘I can see why you are promoting this marriage, I’m not stupid. An only son … an ailing father. But I will not be used as a pawn in your plan to get your hands on the Garfields’ business.’

‘Don’t dare to defy me! I will be obeyed. You will marry Cyrus Garfield!’ Her father’s voice was cold, filled with the certainty that his authority had never been challenged by any member of the family before and it was going to prevail now.

Still holding his gaze, Kate shook her head slowly. ‘No!’

He did not reply immediately, allowing the seconds that passed to strengthen the finality of his words when he eventually spoke. ‘Then you are no daughter of mine!’ he declared.

‘So be it,’ Kate whispered.

Titus glowered with fury. ‘Then go! Get out of my sight. But think carefully on the result if you do – no money; no help from me; cut off from your family; a life of poverty and hardship for which you are totally unsuited. You’ll come running back eventually – when you accept that marrying Cyrus Garfield is the better prospect for your future.’

‘I will not marry him.’ Kate spoke determinedly, and forced herself to walk unhurriedly from the room. Her last glance was at her mother, a subdued and beaten woman without the spirit to speak up for her own child, though Kate thought she saw regret in her eyes and a tear slide from one of them.

She walked quickly upstairs and in to her room, sinking back against the door as it closed. It was only then that the enormity of what she had done hit her. She felt cold.

She had become an outcast.

Some would say she was stupid; others would think her stubborn and disobedient. But this was hardly a childish tantrum. She was nineteen, for goodness’ sake, with the rest of her life ahead of her. Many girls in her position would have agreed to the arrangements made for them by their parents, hoping that love would eventually develop in the marriage and thankful for the security they had gained by it. But Kate would stick to her convictions. She wanted none of that.

Leaning against the door, drained by the enormity of what she had just done, Kate felt sick and dizzy. She walked slowly to the bed and sat down. Reaction to its familiar softness jolted her back to reality. Never again would she sleep amidst the warm comfort of its feathers, or feel the soft blankets comforting her with the reassurance that she had a place to live where she wanted for nothing.

Not true! Hadn’t parental love always been lacking here? Her defiance of her father’s order to marry Cyrus Garfield had thrust into the forefront of her mind something she had known for a long time but had never allowed herself to dwell on. He had no true affection for her, but saw her and all his children as mere chattels, their wishes and feelings of no consequence to him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, she could still turn the clock back. She could, here and now, beg her father’s forgiveness with all the humility she could conjure and hope that he would pardon her terrible insubordination. But that would mean marrying Cyrus. For one moment indecision clouded Kate’s dazed mind, but then the horror of being married to a man she did not love closed in. It was as if Cyrus himself stood before her now – a weedy, insinuating sort of man of thirty or so, whose talk was often tainted with innuendos and whose hooded eyes always dwelt for too long on any half-attractive woman. Such a man would expect his wife’s total subservience – an even worse scenario than the life her mother endured. At least Titus had some consideration for her since they occupied different rooms. Cyrus Garfield would show no such respect for Kathleen.

‘Never!’ She moved her lips silently, bolstering her own defiance. She had swiftly realised why her father was prepared to sacrifice her happiness. Cyrus was the only son of an ailing widower who had a small but successful ships’ chandlery business. Her father knew it would be a useful addition to his own enterprise and planned to exert pressure on Cyrus through Kate. She was revolted by the lengths he was prepared to go to, to bolster his own wealth and status. Well, she would not be party to his scheming! She would not be used as a pawn to make her father richer. She would make what she wanted of her own life.

Kate crossed to the window and gazed out across Whitby. This was a view she loved, one which had sent a young girl’s dreams soaring as she watched the ships sail down the river to the sea, and thought of the men aboard who did not know what they would face before once more sighting Whitby’s welcoming landmarks of red roofs, ancient church and ruined abbey. Among them were young men more worthy of her affections than Cyrus Garfield. Kate impressed the view on her mind for she did not believe she would gaze on it from this room again. She let eyes drift over it then sweep down to the road below. She paused, wondering where her future lay, where that road might lead her … what it had in store for her next.

Someone walked past with a resolute step; they knew where they were going. It jolted Kate back to the reality of her situation. She had to leave now. She could not remain in this house tonight. To do so might be interpreted by her father as a weakening of her resolve and a tacit acceptance of his order. She must leave at once. But where could she go?

Kate grabbed a valise and threw into it some clothes and necessities, taking only what she could manage to carry; she would have to make do as she went along. She needed time to think and consider her best course of action.

She was fastening her valise when there was a gentle tap on the door. As Kate turned to answer, it opened and Dorothea slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. She looked troubled as she faced her sister.

‘Father’s gone out. Mother told me what happened. Oh, Kate, what will you do?’ Tears were welling in her eyes.

Kate took her sister in her arms. ‘I don’t know, but I can’t stay here.’

‘But you …’

Kate interrupted quickly, fearful of what Dorothea might say to try and change her mind. ‘Say nothing. I couldn’t possibly marry Cyrus Garfield … I shudder at the thought. Father has only his own ends in mind. I’ll not be used for gain.’

‘Oh, Kate, I don’t want to lose you. What will happen to me now? Might Father want me to take your place? It’s Ben Crichton who …’

‘I thought as much,’ Kate said with pleasure in her tone. ‘Ben’s made for you, and I doubt Father will frown on the match. He and Mr Crichton are close associates; he won’t want to spoil that. If he has other ideas, it will be up to you to stand up to him.’ She stood back a little, grasped Dorothea by the shoulders and instructed her, ‘Don’t let him force you into anything you don’t want to do. You can make a good case for marrying Ben, if you try, and I’m sure Father will agree. But Cyrus … Never! Now, I must be away before Father returns.’ She swung her redingote around her shoulders, tied on her bonnet, and picked up her gloves and valise.

‘Will you see Mama before you go?’ asked Dorothea.

‘I don’t think that would be wise. Give her my love.’

‘Please let us know where you are.’

‘I’ll try to let you know, but not Mama. Father would only wheedle it out of her – she’s so browbeaten after all these years. So, please, be discreet.’

‘I will.’

They hugged again, and then Kate hurried from the room without a backward glance. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she kept going briskly to the front door. Without hesitation she opened it and swept outside. The sound of it closing seemed to signal that a chapter of her life was over and a new one was about to begin.

Kate hurried down the garden path and out on to the road that she had observed from her room. In the last few moments she had decided where it would lead her. Now she tried to bolster her confidence with quick steps, aware that her immediate prospects now lay in the hands of two people whom she dearly loved.

She took the road to the bridge, crossed to the East Side and headed along Church Street towards Green Lane, which formed the steep incline leading to the Abbey Plain. At the lower end of Green Lane stood a terrace of modest-sized houses known as Prospect Row. In one of these lived her brother Archie and his wife Rosemary. Though she loved Samuel and his wife Alicia dearly, Archie was Kate’s favourite brother and she had a deep and long-standing friendship with her sister-in-law Rosemary. If anyone would help her, if only with advice, she was sure they would.

Kate rapped the brass doorknocker. A few moments later it was opened by the neatly dressed maid who smiled on seeing her and stepped back to allow her to enter.

‘Good morning, miss.’

‘Good morning, Polly. Is your mistress at home?’

‘Yes, miss. I’ll inform her …’

‘That’s all right, Polly,’ said Rosemary, hurrying out of the drawing room.

‘Ma’am.’ The girl hurried away.

‘The door was ajar, I heard your voice,’ said Rosemary, coming to Kate with arms outstretched. Her warm smile changed to an expression of curiosity when she saw the valise Kate had with her. ‘What …?’

‘I’m sorry to intrude on your morning, but I need to speak to you.’ At the urgency in Kate’s tone, Rosemary’s expression changed to one of concern.

‘Come in.’ She took the valise, placed it on the floor beside a small table, and drew Kate by the arm into the drawing room. ‘Let’s have you out of your coat and get you a drink. You look as though you need it. Then you can tell me what’s troubling you. That valise seems to indicate it’s something drastic.’ As she was speaking she had taken Kate’s coat, placed it on a chair and sat her down on a comfortable sofa. She went to the oak sideboard where she poured two glasses of wine for them. Handing one to Kate, she sat down beside her and said, ‘Now you can tell me.’

That was what Kate liked most about Rosemary: she always seemed to be in charge of any situation. She was besides attractive and charming. They had known each other since they were girls and had shared much together. Kate had been delighted when Rosemary agreed to marry Archie, believing they were perfectly matched and that Rosemary would be a great asset to him. So it had proved when she supported his desire to open his own ship-building business rather than work alongside his father. That had left the way clear for Samuel to stay with his father’s business, which had satisfied everyone.

‘I’ve left home!’ Kate blurted out.

‘As simple as that?’ queried Rosemary calmly.

‘Well, not exactly. Father ordered me to marry Cyrus Garfield!’

‘What?’

Kate nodded a confirmation.

‘And you refused and walked out?’

‘I refused, yes, but Father told me in no uncertain terms to leave. He cut me off without a penny. I believe he thinks that after I’ve had a taste of the outside world, I’ll be back begging to marry Cyrus.’

Rosemary gave a little shudder. ‘How could anyone marry that horrid man? How could your father order you to do so?’

‘Because he has his eyes on the Garfields’ business and is used to getting his own way.’

Rosemary nodded thoughtfully. ‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘I don’t know.’ The words caught in Kate’s throat as the prospect of her uncertain future yawned before her.

‘I see,’ said Rosemary decisively. ‘Does your father know where you are now?’

‘No.’

‘Good, then you must stay with us for as long as possible, though I fear that may not be very long. I will have a word with Polly and Cook, tell them to say nothing about you, but it is bound to come out sometime. We’ll deal with that when it arises. Now let’s get you settled in and we’ll talk with Archie when he gets home.’ Rosemary rose from the sofa.

As Kate followed suit she said, ‘I am grateful for what you are doing. I do realise that it could be awkward for Archie so it will be best if I can make other plans as soon as possible.’

‘Have you any ideas?’

Kate shook her head. ‘No. But I’ll do anything to keep my independence. I’ll not relent and submit to Father’s wishes. Marriage to Cyrus would be a fate worse than death.’

Rosemary took her hand, a reassuring gesture. ‘Don’t even think about it. Let’s get you settled.’

Rosemary showed Kate the room she would occupy and left her to unpack. Even as she was doing so, Kate was trying to think of a way out of her immediate dilemma. She needed some occupation that would bring her an income. Her independent streak would not allow her to consider anything else.

When she came downstairs she found Rosemary, pen in hand, seated at her satinwood secretaire. Kate did not interrupt but stood looking out of the window until, a few moments later, Rosemary said in a satisfied tone, ‘There.’ She said no more to enlighten Kate but sealed the letter she had written, rose from her chair and went to the bellpull. A few moments later Polly appeared. ‘I want you to take this note to Mr Swan at his yard. You need not wait for an answer,’ Rosemary instructed.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And, Polly, I do not want you to mention to anyone, not even Mr Swan, that Miss Swan is staying here.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Do I see to her room too?’

‘Yes, until she leaves. I don’t know how long that will be.’

The girl nodded and started to turn for the door.

‘And, Polly, ask Cook to come and see me.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

As the door closed, Rosemary explained to Kate that she had asked Archie to come and take luncheon at home. ‘I have not said anything about your being here, just that I have an urgent matter I wish to discuss with him and that it cannot wait until he comes home later.’

When Cook appeared she and Kate acknowledged each other, then Rosemary told her, ‘Miss Swan will be staying with us for a while. I don’t want that information going beyond this room.’

Rosemary and Kate were sitting in the drawing room when Archie arrived, his face grave; he had never been summoned home like this before. Seeing his sister, he immediately associated her presence with his wife’s note.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, alarm creeping into his voice.

Kate was about to explain but held back, allowing Rosemary to put the situation to him; she was pleased to do so because she knew Rosemary would explain things much more calmly than Kate herself would have done. Emotion would have coloured her version of events. Rosemary, as an outsider, put the facts more logically, presenting the problem they had brought about much more lucidly, with the result that when Archie spoke again, it was in a much more composed manner.

He started with the obvious. ‘We have a problem.’ Then he added, looking Kate straight in the eye, ‘I hope you can see this from my point of view? It does me no good to offend Father.’

Her heart sank. Was there going to be no sympathy, no support, from the brother she loved? Surely Rosemary would bring her influence to bear.

Archie was going on, ‘I know you will say that I stood up to Father when I told him I wanted to establish a shipbuilding business, but he supported that because he saw it as an adjunct to his own enterprises, and besides had Samuel, who was far more interested in the sail- and rope-making business than I was. You have defied him for different reasons.’ He stopped Kate when he saw she was going to protest at the instruction she thought he was about to issue: Go back and beg forgiveness. ‘I support your stance,’ Archie assured her. ‘Marriage to Cyrus would be a disaster, condemning you to a hellish life. Father is blinded by the prospect of commercial advantage, which is no excuse when it comes to imposing his wishes on others, especially his own daughter. But that’s his way. Now we have to consider you. Have you any idea what to do next?’

She shook her head. ‘No. I had hoped you and Rosemary could help.’

‘I have said Kate can stay here but that I would have to seek your thoughts,’ Rosemary put in.

Archie nodded. He looked at Kate. ‘Rosemary knows this but you probably don’t. Father financed the start of my business and is continuing to do so until I have it on a sound basis. I am doing well but I am not yet at the stage where I can do without his support. I cannot risk losing that, which I surely would if we give you refuge here. He is sure to get to know.’

A chill had settled over Kate. She could feel her colour draining away, and with it all hope. ‘You want me to leave?’ Her voice, scarcely above a whisper, carried a sense of the betrayal she felt.

‘No, Kate, we do not. Believe me, we will give you all the support we dare. But please try and understand our position.’ She saw him glance at Rosemary for her approval and knew, from the easing of his tone, that his wife had granted it; the reassurance of help she had given Kate was now sealed, within limits. ‘We will try and find another solution as quickly as possible,’ her brother continued. ‘What about going to Aunt Clarissa in Newcastle?’

‘Too risky to go to any relative. I would have to give a reason for going, and whoever it was would be bound to seek Father’s approval,’ Kate pointed out.

They both agreed that would not be a wise move.

‘Besides, I need to gain an income. I’ve only a little money at my disposal … in fact, what I have in my pocket … and I cannot think of taking that sort of help from you.’

‘We’ll manage while you are here,’ said her brother. ‘What we need to do is find some permanent position for you.’

‘Anything,’ Kate declared, ‘rather than yield to the plan Father has made for me. I’ll gather seaweed for the alum works at Ravenscar. I’ll scrat for jet for Whitby’s workshops. I’ll go as a domestic. I’ll gut herrings … I’ll do anything.’

‘Wait!’ Rosemary broke in. ‘Domestic – that’s reminded me. Three days ago, when I visited Mama, the conversation turned to a friend of hers, Mrs Jordan, who lives at Peak House near Robin Hood’s Bay.’

‘High on the cliffs where the bay swings round towards Ravenscar,’ explained Archie. ‘It’s a wonderful setting with views right across the bay.’

‘I know it,’ Kate said. ‘Father allowed Dorothea and me to take a trap to Robin Hood’s Bay one day.’ She added with a little smile, ‘We never told him we went a little further; we drove past Peak House.’

‘So what’s this got to do with our problem?’ asked Archie, eyeing his wife.

‘Well, I took little notice at the time but, hearing Kate mention a domestic position, I recalled Mama telling me Mrs Jordan’s companion had recently left and that she was hoping to find another.’

Archie’s eyes were bright when he turned to his sister and said with some enthusiasm, ‘What do you think, Kate?’

This unexpected opportunity had occurred so quickly she had barely had time to take it in, but now the possibilities were making themselves apparent and excitement was gripping her. ‘It could be the answer. It will give me my independence. Do you know Mrs Jordan, Rosemary?’

‘I’ve never met her but I’ve heard Mother talk about her. A genteel lady in her early-sixties … been widowed ten years. Her husband made his money in Scarborough and bought Peak House because they both loved this part of the coast. She is energetic, loves gardening and walking on the cliffs. A fine embroideress … loves being read to while she is working on her latest piece.’

‘You’d like that, Kate,’ Archie enthused.

Already the situation was appealing to her. Why had she been so lucky? At that moment there flashed before her a memory of what she had seen from her window: the road below. And she had wondered where it would take her. Was this the answer? To Peak House? And where would it lead beyond that?

That pulled her up short. What if the position with Mrs Jordan had already been filled?

Malcolm McFadden stepped outside Garstan House and let his eyes slowly scan his surroundings. This was one of his favourite views in Shetland, if not the favourite, and it was part of the estate he would one day inherit as its new laird.

He loved the house that had been his home for all twenty-one years of his life. It had been built by a seventeenth-century ancestor. With its winding passages, crooked staircases and many rooms, each with its own character, it had been a splendid house in which to play Hide and Seek with Angus, his younger brother by a year, and sister Lavinia, two years his junior. It was full of memories, most of them happy; the saddest being when his mother had died with her still-born child in 1814, eighteen years ago. Malcolm was only three at the time. Their father, Mungo, was devastated by the loss of his wife, a. . .