The Lauderhill Legacy

Chapter 11

Angus shook the hand and then began a spell of wracking coughs that startled his host into rushing to a cabinet for some brandy.

"Please, sir, take some of this, it should settle that throat."

Angus did and thanking the man, returned to the warmth of the fire. "You have some property I'm to assume I believe."

"Yes, yes indeed, sir." Percely tilted and made his way to a glass-fronted cupboard beside the desk, extracting a small, cloth-wrapped parcel. "As the eldest of your line, I am instructed to present this to you upon completion of the necessary documents, which I have ready for your signature. I must apologize since the chain of delivery set down by your ancestor was broken by the untimely death of your father, but happy to be able to continue its legacy as originally decreed."

Angus accepted the parcel and undid the wrapping. The cover of the book was blue-dyed leather with tarnished and fading gold script on the cover and spine. He ran a rough palm over the finish and gently opened the thick cover. The frontispiece repeated the cover, followed by a blank and then the Lauder family crest in full, hand-decorated colour.

Angus admired the artistry and spent a moment or two appreciating the detail then he flipped to the next page that began with a genealogy of the Lauders and on the next, the story of the clan's history.

"A stunning piece of workmanship, sir." Percely noted, peering over Angus's shoulder.

"Aye. Considering the age, well maintained too." Angus rewrapped the book and stowed it in his satchel then turned to the solicitor for the next step.

Percely beamed and seemed to bounce on the spot, accepting partial credit for the praise. "We take our responsibilities quite seriously sir. Indeed." He watched as Angus signed the papers and then placed his hand to his mouth and gave a discreet cough. "There is one more thing, sir. I am to deliver this verbally only, as you will do when it is time to pass your legacy on, assuming of course you don't solve the riddle."

"Is this about the deed to the property?"

Percely shrugged apologetically. "I just follow the dictates of my client, sir. The message is, 'Alec cautions one to read all between the covers.'"

"That's it? What the hell does that mean?" Percely shrugged again. "Very well. You've done your duty, I will leave it at that."

Forms completed and business finished, Angus next determined a decent inn to spend the night before catching the following day's carriage back home. In the damp room he lit the several candles provided for light and rationed the small allotment of wood for the fire, then wrapping himself in the only blanket, settled beside the meager flame and got out the book.

A sickly sun poked through the dirty window of the room and came to rest on Angus's face. He squinted and turned aside but it was too late, sleep had dressed and left for the day. The book lay on the floor beside his bed and he cursed inwardly at his carelessness, gathering it up and wrapping it once again in the protective covering.

He shuddered and sat up, his chest aching and his throat raw. The fire of course was out and the last of the wood burned so he dressed in his cold clothes, gathered his things and went down to find some hot food before arranging his journey home.

The Decision

Angus poured another spoonful of the horrible medicine his doctor had provided and swallowed it with a scrunched face. The diagnosis bode ill for any future and in retrospect, Angus rued the misuse of his youth. His head ached and his chest felt cramped and heavy. The cough had become more prevalent since returning from his earlier trip to Loch Blenam as well as more painful, and he sighed heavily as he penned the last few words of his document.

Another cough wracked his chest and throat and the flame wavered in the lantern by his elbow. Angus had paged through the Lauderhill book with little real interest in solving the puzzle; his time was running short and he wasn't about to spend it grasping for wealth. His predicament was due to the fact that there were no direct male heirs and while he should pass it to the next female, his sister, it meant leaving out the only one in his life that mattered—the wife of his brother-in-law's brother.

Some noisy children galloped past his window, mischievously banging the shutters as they did and Angus grunted and coughed, sitting upright as he came to his decision. Cursing, he folded the paper and enclosed it in an envelope, sealing the missive with wax from a candle stub, then he wrapped the letter with the book and tied the package tightly. He had one last errand to run; perhaps the most important one left and he pulled on his heavy coat, wound the thick woolen scarf about his neck and left the tiny room where he stayed.

The night sky sparkled with stars and the clear, fresh air gave him a small lift, although he was careful not to breathe too deeply lest he start another coughing spell. Hurrying along the cobbled street, Angus reflected on this last errand and exactly how he would conclude a most shameful yet thrilling and dangerous period of his life.

A carriage rumbled noisily past, the horses blowing steam from flaring nostrils as they galloped swiftly, pulling their heavy load. Angus rounded the corner and began the long climb to the street above. At the top, the lamplighter was refitting the light cover and he tipped his cap at Angus, commenting on the quality of the evening with a happy smile.

Angus nodded politely and hurried on down the road, crossing the street and turning into a narrow lane. A weathered door, set back into the stone side of a two-storey building opened with the first knock and Angus slipped quickly inside.

"What is so important we have to risk this meeting?" Molly Highcourt retreated and stood by the dimly lit table, her pale skin turned creamy in the candle's glow.

Angus approached hesitantly. "I have come to give you this." He took out the package and handed it to her. "Don't open it now. You can look at it later."

"Angus, what is this about?"

"I'm going away, Molly. We won't be seeing one another anymore." His eyes filled with tears as he watched the change in her face. "I don't know any other way to tell you but this. Short and sweet. All I can say is I have loved you more than you could imagine and will always hold you firm in my heart."

"Wha- why... where are you going?" She clutched the package tightly in two hands.

He started to answer and then began a wracking cough that sent him staggering to the nearest chair.

"Angus! What is it? What's wrong?"

"Molly," he managed weakly when the coughing subsided. "I'm dying. Time is very short."

"No!"

"Please," he gripped her hand. "Nothing can halt this vile disease, it is too far along. I don't want you fighting this, Molly. Please just accept the facts and swear that you will keep a space in your own heart for me."

"Oh Angus!" She fell to her knees beside him and they held one another tightly for a long time in silence.

Finally, Angus eased her away and they stood facing, tears streaming, fingers squeezing the other's arms. "Perhaps this is the price for seeking another man's wife." He muttered ruefully.

"Franklin was never as much a part of me as you, Angus. Even with the children. You gave me life, a reason to feel I was more than chattel; you will occupy all my heart, my darling, forever."

Eschewing caution, Angus boldly kissed her, breathing in the essence of the woman he loved and couldn't have.

"I must be away now," he said, releasing her and stepping back.

"Angus—"

"Don't, Molly. Don't make it more difficult. Remember our times together and that I will always love you." He backed up to the door, unable to tear his eyes away from her stricken look.

"The letter inside will be of some comfort and it has a request that you should follow. Good bye now, my sweet." He quickly turned and exited the room, closing the door with a thudding finality. As he staggered away down the road, seeking his passage through teary eyes, he could hear, over the rasp of his cough, the plaintive wail from the tiny room behind him.