Graeme Burnet - His Bloody Project

The factor looked at me with an expression of incredulity. ‘A campaign of harassment?’ he repeated, appearing rather pleased by the phrase. He took a few steps back and leaned against the desk. ‘That is a most serious allegation, young man, a most serious allegation indeed. Those in power cannot be permitted to abuse their office, can they? Nor, of course, can individuals be permitted to make unsubstantiated claims about their superiors. You had better, therefore, tell me what this “campaign of harassment” has consisted of.’

I felt encouraged by the factor’s words and believe I took an involuntary step towards his desk. I then related, at some length, how Lachlan Broad had at the first opportunity reduced the extent of our land, had later denied us sea-ware to fertilise our crops which were now failing, and had then fined us for the poor upkeep of our croft.

The factor listened intently, his eyes all the time upon me. ‘Is there anything else?’ he said.

I wished to tell him also of the general atmosphere of oppression under which we lived, but I could think of no means of expressing this. Nor did I think it prudent to describe the incident I had witnessed with my sister, if for no other reason than it remained a secret from my father.

The factor looked disappointed when I had nothing more to add.

‘And this you describe as a “campaign of harassment”?’ he said.

‘Yes, sir,’ I replied.

‘So your true objective in coming here is to slander, for whatever private motives, an official who, from what you describe, is doing nothing more than performing his duties conscientiously. I shall indeed make note of what you have said and when I next meet with Mr Mackenzie, I shall offer him my congratulations on the manner in which he has conducted himself.’

I felt a dreadful sinking in my stomach, but I saw nothing to gain by protesting.

The factor then addressed my father. ‘I hope you will not see fit to call on me in this manner again. I remind you that your tenancy continues at Lord Middleton’s discretion. And at the discretion of his deputies.’

He then shook his head and waved us out of the study.

My father did not speak on the way home, nor did his expression betray his thoughts. The rain had ceased. That evening I stayed about the house, awaiting the arrival of Lachlan Broad, but he did not appear. Nor did he come on any of the subsequent evenings and I concluded that he was leaving us to stew on whatever retribution was to be loosed upon us. A few days later, I was working in the ditches beside the road to Aird-Dubh when Lachlan Broad passed by. He stopped and watched me work for some minutes, but said nothing before going on his way. Following our interview, I had imagined the factor taking the first opportunity to report what had occurred to his constable, but when it appeared he had not done so, I realised that to these important men our actions were of simply no consequence.

* * *

Some days later, after supper, I stepped out of the house for no other reason than to escape the black atmosphere. My father’s mood at that particular time was so dark that it cast a pall over the entire household. I had not seen Jetta smile for days or weeks and she seemed to daily shrink further within herself, so that she carried herself with the bearing of an old crone. If the infants played at all, they did so silently and in ways mysterious to all but themselves. When Jetta addressed them, it was in a whisper, calculated not to remind my father of their existence. I myself, due to my longing to see Flora Broad, had been labouring under a cloak of despondency, which only augmented the general gloom.

On stepping out of the house, however, my mood immediately brightened. Flora was sitting on the dyke at the junction of the Toscaig road. I was tempted to break into a run, but a moment of circumspection led me to forsake the track through the village and instead make my way down through the rig, before climbing the dyke and joining the road some two or three hundred yards from where Flora sat. I affected a manner intended to suggest to anyone who might be observing that I was merely wandering neither here nor there with no particular destination in mind. In this way I imagined that when I encountered Flora our meeting would appear to be a matter of chance. Flora never once looked up as I approached and seemed to be occupied with something on her lap. As I drew nearer, I was struck by the delicacy of her features. Coils of hair blew unnoticed around her face in the breeze. I stopped a few paces away, but Flora was quite absorbed, or pretending to be so, in the methodical destruction of a dandelion, the yellow petals of which littered her skirts.

I greeted her and she looked up from her activity.

‘Hello, Roddy,’ she said.

I was to unable to engage in any prevarication. ‘I have been looking out for you these last days,’ I said. ‘And was sorry not to have seen you.’

‘Is that so?’ she said.

A faint smile played on her lips and she cast her eyes down towards the petals on her skirt as if my statement had pleased her.

‘I have been working at the Big House,’ she said.

I was pleased that Flora saw fit to furnish me with this explanation for her absence.

I nodded and stepped a little closer to her.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘I am not going anywhere,’ I said.

‘Then it is a fortunate thing that you happened to be passing on your way to nowhere when I was sitting here.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A very fortunate thing.’

‘Perhaps I could walk to nowhere with you,’ she said.

She pushed herself off the dyke, brushing the petals from her clothing. We walked a little way in silence and, without discussion, took the turning to Aird-Dubh. It pleased me that this custom seemed to have been established between us, as if we were a long-married couple. The breeze dropped and water of the Sound was entirely still. We walked in such close proximity that it was not necessary to raise our voices above a whisper, and I had the feeling that we were proceeding through a world which had for the moment set down its tools to take pause. If I could by some magical means suddenly transport myself to the house, Jetta and my father would be quite frozen in their activity and the infants’ play would be all suspended.

After some time, I asked Flora what she had been doing at the Big House. She described how, on account of a large shooting party, extra hands had been needed in the kitchen and to serve at the banquets. She described the dishes of meats, vegetables and sweets which were brought to the guests, and the great quantities of wine that were imbibed at the table. It was, she said, a most wondrous sight. She then described the fine dresses of the ladies, who were one more beautiful than the next. There was a most handsome gentleman with flowing dark hair to whom all the ladies cast their eyes and who seemed the leader in toasting the hospitality of Lord Middleton. It had been a splendid week, said Flora, and she had earned two shillings for her labour. Then, feeling that there should be no secrets between us, I told Flora of my short-lived employment in the service of Lord Middleton. She did not laugh, but looked at me quite gravely and said, ‘That was not a very clever thing to do, Roddy.’

‘It was not,’ I replied, ‘for my father gave me the soundest thrashing I have ever had.’

Again Flora did not seem to find this amusing and I was dismayed that she seemed to frown on my behaviour. I told her that I only acted as I had because I did not wish to see a fine stag destroyed for the amusement of the gentry. Flora then said that the deer were on the mountain for the sport of the gentlemen and that Lord Middleton’s livelihood depended on such pursuits. I replied that Lord Middleton’s livelihood was no concern of mine. Flora retorted that it should be my concern as it was the estate that provided the people with employment.