A Darkening of the Heart Read online

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  ABOUT THE SAME AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  1

  Susanna’s brother came over to stand beside her at the tiny, deep-set window.

  ‘There he goes.’ Half laughing, Alexander shook his head. ‘Swaggering along as if he owned the village.’

  ‘And look at his hair,’ Susanna said eyeing the jet-black head in scorn. ‘He’s the only man in the parish who keeps his hair long and tied back like that.’

  ‘They tell me he can be quite a danger to himself and others at times.’

  Susanna looked round, startled. ‘Really? In what way?’

  ‘Working on the farm – with some of the sharp implements they use, I suppose. The other farm servants and his brother, Gilbert, have to keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Well, I declare! What does he do?’

  ‘He sometimes loses concentration, apparently. He goes about in a dream muttering and humming tunes to himself.’

  ‘Gracious heavens! Is he mad then?’

  ‘Actually, Robert Burns is the only intelligent man worth talking to for miles around. He’ll just have been thinking about his Bachelors’ Club and practising what he’s going to say. He’s the one who started the Club and makes up the subjects of debate. He’ll be on his way there now. I’d better be going. If it wasn’t for that Club, I’d die of boredom here.’

  Boredom? Her brother didn’t know the meaning of the word, Susanna thought bitterly. All she could do was to cling to a desperate dream of escaping from the confines of her father’s dark dungeon of a house. Her dream was of marrying one of the gentry who owned a spacious dwelling and a large estate around which she could stroll with freedom and leisure. She spent a great deal of time in her head imagining the house or even the castle she would live in. She saw the light of many chandeliers blazing in every room and corridor. She saw a long table sparkling with silverware and laden with delicious food. There would be many large vases of flowers. She smelled the sweet fragrance of the place. She would have many servants, of course, who would bow and curtsey to her.

  Alexander had been educated in Paris and he’d done his medical training in Leydon. Even now he was able to get out and around far more than her. Like their doctor father, he regularly consulted with patients in the crowded taverns of Tarbolton, where he prescribed for them over a pint of ale or a glass of whisky. Or he sat alone in a corner of the tavern conscientiously working at his poetry. Susanna often thought that, for all his medical training, his heart was more in his poetry than in his doctoring. Alexander was a very clever and artistic man.

  Unfortunately she had not been blessed with any literary talent that could help take her mind off her dreary situation. Most of the time she was stuck in the narrow, gloomy rooms of the house where candles needed to be kept lit for most of the day. Although they weren’t always lit when needed, or never enough. Her mother was mean with candles and often they had to sit crushed up against the window to get enough light to do their embroidery.

  As well as the depressing darkness, the air was heavy with the stench from the cupboard of a room where her father mixed his potions. No wonder they made such an abominable stink. The potions were made of ingredients which included excrement of horse, dog, pig and other animals. He also used bodies of frogs and juice of wood lice, not forgetting snails, worms, vipers, leeches, human blood, fat and urine.

  Her brother and her father were always arguing about physicking. Alexander had lots of modern ideas. Her father pooh-poohed them and the patients were suspicious of them. They didn’t trust Alexander’s unfamiliar ways. His father’s ideas and methods were still the most popular and accepted. As a result, most people preferred the older man to attend to them. It was terribly frustrating for Alexander but he had always his poetry writing to turn to and he frequently did. Often he lost himself in writing late into the night by the light of a candle. He was a very hard worker and a most conscientious man. His poetry alone gave him a more fulfilling life than his young sister’s.

  The only thing that kept her sane was her dreams. She kept trying to imagine a handsome young man of quality who would rescue her from her present predicament, someone as marvellously handsome as the ploughman – but a man of wealth and quality.

  She had been quite shaken the first time she’d seen the farm worker close up. He had stepped aside to allow her to pass in the street. But not before she’d met his eyes, glowing darkly under black brows. It was only for a second or two, but she experienced such a strange sensation dart through her, a kind of sizzling that flew from his eyes to hers. Neither on that first encounter nor on the second had he smiled. She’d remarked to Alexander about what a serious fellow he was.

  Her father had been there at the time, and he’d said, ‘Och aye, the whole family’s awful serious. Of course, it’s hard grinding work on that farm. They’ve nothing tae smile aboot. Ah mind that young dominie that used to teach the older boys and some of the other farmers’ sons. He telt me that even at meal times, that family always sat in solemn silence with a book in one hand and their spoon in the other. Especially the eldest boy. He even takes a book with him when he’s working in the fields.’

  Alexander said, ‘I mentioned the Bachelors’ Club to Lord Morton the other day and he said, “Oh, it was started by that staring kind of fellow, wasn’t it?”.’

  ‘That sums him up quite well,’ Susanna agreed. ‘I’ve never seen such dark, piercing eyes.’

  Alexander shrugged. ‘But I can tell you he’s also the life and soul of the Club.’

  ‘Who’s Lord Morton?’ Susanna asked hopefully. ‘Is he young like us?’

  ‘He’s from the other side of Ayr. I met his son in Leydon. He died of an infection. The best doctors in the world there couldn’t save him. The old man likes to keep in touch with me because I knew his son.’

  Susanna gave a deep sigh which her father and brother took to be in sympathy for either the deceased or the grieving father. Susanna, however, was sighing in sympathy with herself. The only gentry for miles around, it seemed, were elderly men. Most of them were patients of her father’s, men with old-fashioned velvet coats, long, heavily-embroidered waistcoats and powdered, full-bottomed wigs.

  The only glimmer of hope on the horizon was the fact that she had been promised another visit to Edinburgh in the not too distant future. At least there a cheerful bustle of all types of people, rich and poor, could be viewed from her grandmother’s window. She would be seventeen by the time of her next visit and her grandmother had promised to take her to a dancing assembly. Perhaps her grandmother would find a suitable partner for her. Her mother wasn’t much use. She suffered from a variety of indispositions that had to be treated with leeches. She needed to be near her husband most of the ti
me to make sure of proper attention.

  Alexander would accompany Susanna to Edinburgh. Through him she might have an even better chance of mixing with the ‘quality’. Alexander knew his way around Edinburgh and was already acquainted with some of the literati.

  Alexander enjoyed reading his verses to his grandmother and grandfather and some of their friends and they were all, including herself, most impressed. However, of the financial situation of the literati that Alexander knew, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to put her life into the hands of a penniless poet either. She wanted and needed someone not only of quality, but of substance.

  There must be plenty of that kind of person in the capital city. The thought of going there kept her spirits from sinking into an abyss of depression. It was a fascinating place where always something exciting was happening. Inside her grandparents’ tenement flat in the High Street were six rooms, including the kitchen. The public rooms had signs of dignity and art with their elaborately stuccoed ceilings, finely carved massive marble mantelpiece and oak panelled walls. Grandfather Wallace had long since risen to the Bench and was now much respected (even feared by some) in the town.

  He had a carriage but seldom used it, preferring the short walk to the court. He always put the carriage at the disposal of his wife, however, and she enjoyed going out to tea parties and card parties when she wasn’t giving them herself. Susanna would have been quite happy to stay permanently in Edinburgh with her grandparents but her grandmother wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘It’s monstrous an’ damnable of ye to even think of such a thing.’

  Susanna had flown into a pretty passion of annoyance.

  ‘Why should it be? Don’t you want me? Is that it? I did not realise I was so unwelcome in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Of course ye’re welcome but it wud be insultin’ an’ disloyal to yer poor mither an’ yer faither to tell them ye prefer ma hoose to theirs. Now stop yer silly clitter clatter. Compose yersel’ an’ tell wee Sissie to bring in the tea.’

  Her grandmother was a formidable woman who punctuated her often caustic remarks with a big pinch of snuff. Sometimes she shocked Susanna by even voicing oaths. She had high-dressed hair, and a regal carriage. Her back was as stiff as her stomacher, and she always sat bolt upright, without ever touching the back of the chair. She had many friends who came to visit, despite being in constant danger of feeling the lash of her tongue. They could all give as good as they got, according to Alexander. Susanna agreed and was full of admiration for these elderly Edinburgh women.

  Even to be occasionally shocked by them was exciting and far better than being in boring Tarbolton. The people of Tarbolton and the surrounding countryside were just plain coarse. They still spoke broad Scots, for instance, including her father and mother. Whereas everyone who wanted to be cultured and fashionable had learned to speak pure English.

  Her mother said now, ‘Come away frae the window, Anna. You’re blockin’ oot the light.’

  Before she turned irritably back into the low-ceilinged coffin of a room (it always irritated her when her parents called her Anna), she saw Alexander making his way along the road, his three-cornered hat perched on top of his short, thick hair. His long coat flicked open in the breeze and his silver buckles glistened. In Edinburgh, he always wore a wig, but here he had just powdered his own hair. In Tarbolton it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered here.

  How she envied him and his Bachelors’ Club. She wished she had somewhere interesting and stimulating to attend. She flopped into a chair near the fire and stared gloomily at it.

  ‘Whit’s up wi’ ye noo?’ her mother asked. ‘Ye’ve been gey ill-humoured of late.’

  Susanna gazed round at the pinched, hollow-cheeked face of her mother.

  ‘Is it any wonder?’

  ‘Aye, it is.’

  ‘We never do anything or go anywhere.’

  ‘It was only yesterday we went to tea with Mrs Douglas.’

  Susanna rolled her eyes.

  ‘Mrs Douglas!’

  ‘An’ whit’s wrong wi’ Mrs Douglas?’

  ‘She talks about nothing but her jaundice. It makes me sick – never mind her.’

  ‘Ye wicked girl! Ah hope for your sake folks’ll be more sympathetic to you when yer time comes.’

  ‘What? My time for jaundice and all the other ailments Mrs Douglas complains of, you mean? God forbid!’

  ‘Aye, well, God’ll no’ forbid. He’ll no’ forget either. Jist you wait till you’re ages wi’ me and poor Mistress Douglas.’

  ‘Oh Mother, there’s got to be more to life than that.’

  ‘Och aye, of course.’ Her mother’s voice softened. ‘Ye’ll marry a nice laddie one day and settle in a wee house o’ yer ain, an’ have lots o’ bairns. You’ll see.’

  ‘Mother, I’m nearly seventeen and I haven’t met one decent man yet. Not one.’

  ‘Ye’ve time enough, lassie. And there’s plenty o’ laddies around. Alexander’s sure to ken some hard-working, decent laddie. Ah’ll ask yer faither to have a word wi’ him.’

  The hard-working ploughman her mother meant, no doubt. Susanna experienced a frisson of panic. No thank you. Certainly, definitely not!

  ‘Perhaps Grandmother or Grandfather may introduce me to someone in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Aye, well, we’ll see. But oor Alexander should be first. It’s time he settled wi’ a nice lassie.’

  Oh yes, Susanna thought. Alexander always comes first. No doubt he’ll find himself a young lady from the gentry and get an ‘in’ to proper society. She couldn’t help being slightly cheered by the thought. If that happened, it might give her an ‘in’ as well. She was ready to cling to any hope – however small. Anything to get her out of the mouldy, stinking, narrow-minded, kirk-fearing village of Tarbolton.

  2

  Alexander picked his way carefully along the street. Unlike most of the men who would be at the Club, wearing boots of one kind or another, his slim feet were clad in silver-buckled shoes. He shrank from the everyday wearing of boots. They were so clod-like and clumsy – except for riding, of course, when they were part of the proper apparel. He was thankful that the Bachelors’ Club was not far from his father’s house. He rounded the corner of the street and there it was, next to the tavern. The tavern keeper lived in the bottom room of the thatched roofed cottage. The room above it was the meeting place of the Club and was reached by an outside stair.

  There was excited conversation already buzzing around the room when he arrived, sparked off as usual by Burns. The man’s excitement was infectious. The worst dullard could be stirred by it. Alexander’s medical instincts occasionally whispered to him that the almost feverish excitement in Burns’ glowing eyes and general demeanour was not quite normal. He wondered if it could be the symptom of some medical condition. He always succeeded in banishing such suspicions, however, and in enjoying the evening.

  It was more than likely that the grim life Robert Burns had as a farm worker during and since childhood depressed the young man’s spirits so much and he was so wildly glad to break free of this oppression, he soared to unusual heights of happiness and joy.

  He certainly was afire with what looked like sheer unadulterated joy while he presided over his Bachelors’ Club. The subject for debate this evening, he announced, was this:

  Suppose a young man, bred a farmer but without any fortune, has it in his power to marry either of two women – the one a girl of large fortune, but neither handsome in person nor agreeable in conversation, but who can manage the household affairs of a farm well enough; the other of them a girl every way agreeable in person, conversation and behaviour, but without any fortune. Which of them should he choose?

  Alexander argued strongly in favour of the girl with the large fortune. It was only prudent, and sensible, and indeed common practice, for a man of no fortune to acquire one in this way. Burns fought on the side of the imprudent. It was a lively debate which Alexander enjoyed. Then the subject of future debates was discuss
ed. All of the subjects were proposed by Burns. A favourite and one of the most lively was: ‘Whether do we deserve more happiness from love or friendship’.

  In some Alexander could detect the influence of Rousseau:

  ‘Whether is the savage man or the peasant in a civilised country in the most happy condition’ or ‘Whether is a young man of the lower ranks of life likeliest to be happy, when he has just got a good education and his mind well-informed, or he who has just the education and information of those around him’.

  Alexander always suspected that many of the subjects revealed aspects of the problems in Burns’ own life, a man whose knowledge, education and intelligence were far beyond his fellow farm workers and any of the young men of the village.

  The rules of the Club were impossible in a way. They were so idealistic, Alexander doubted if many of the ordinary lads could live up to the ideals for long. The tenth and last paragraph of the list of rules and regulations summed them all up, especially when delivered with such joyous pride from the magnetic centre of the sparkling-eyed Burns.

  Every man proper for a member of this Society must have a frank, honest, open heart; above everything dirty or mean; and must be a professed lover of one or more of the female sex. No haughty or self-conceited person, who looks upon himself as superior to the rest of the Club; especially no mean-spirited, worldly mortal, whose only will is to heap up money, shall upon any pretext whatever be admitted. In short, the proper person for this society is a cheerful, honest-hearted lad, who, if he has a friend that is true and a mistress that is kind, and as much wealth as genteelly to make both ends meet, is just as happy as this world can make him.

  It struck Alexander as showing a touching naivety of the world, even of this small corner of the world which was Tarbolton. Here fornication was an everyday occurrence and the resulting fire and abomination lectures in the kirk a delight in the otherwise dull lives of most of the congregation. The church was always packed when someone had to sit in the cutty stool or stand to be shamed – in great detail – by one of the elders or the minister. Other sins were ignored, Alexander noticed. Only acts of a sexual nature were picked on by the church and gone over with what looked like triumphant glee.