Scotch and Sirens

Chapter Ten Part One

 

The following morning the sun had returned and woke up Lord Brougham as soon as it could peek over the fell. This was by no means unwelcome to his Lordship, and he was restless to get up and take advantage of it.

He was somewhat surprised, however, when it turned out that his otherwise so fastidious friend did not appear at breakfast and since his valet could not answer his enquiry of Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts, he concluded nothing was to be done, so he gave his man a message for his friend.

“Well, when you see him lurking about somewhere again, tell him I have gone down to the trout rock by Nethery Farm and that I shall try to catch dinner for us before lunch. He might join me if he wishes; I shall be there as long as I can. Glorious weather! Cannot wait to see if it has bewitched the fish as well as myself!” And with that he was off.

Darcy opened his eyes, already sorry for doing it, but as the morning sunlight was mercilessly shining straight onto his face through the full open window, there was nothing left for him but to get up.

Coffee was all he served himself for breakfast, and while sipping it slowly he read a newspaper, which was left for him beside his plate. He tried hard to glean as much as he could from the latest political events, but feeling he was no match for that task today he put it away, irritated.

Instructed by Riemann where Brougham could be found, he directed his steps down to the river. The cloudless sky slowed his pace, and the day’s heat added to his headache. He soon observed that there was nothing charming about birds’ singing, and that conclusion was even more strongly emphasised by the troubling sound that was soon heard along with the birds’. ‘Whoever told Brougham that he had any sense of melody!?’ was Darcy’s only silent observation as he approached his friend seated comfortably in a secluded spot off a rocky path over the stream. He was sure Brougham was tone deaf, even if the man did not know it himself.

“For goodness sake, Brougham, your whistling could wake up the dead.”

"Ah, top of the morning to you, old friend, or something like that since I see from the sun it is close to midday! Do you not know fish are excessively fond of music? I intend to continue impersonating a siren successfully as I have so far, and whistling is an integral part of my strategy.”

“What? Oh, I did not mean the fish. Your whistling bursts my head.”

“You look very tired. Did you have a rough night?”

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Brougham merrily chattered on, “I must declare your arrival is very opportune, however, for I was just about to lay down my burden and take refuge from the sun under that tree. I was contemplating a small nap, actually, but perhaps you would like to join me to some cheese and bread?"

His Lordship fished out a tumbler from his fishing bag, sat down on the boulder, and filled the cup with water.

"Delicious this. Try! Now, would you care to be mother and serve up the treats in the shade while I wrap up here?"

Darcy rubbed his forehead and looked around. His eyes passed the cheese with disgust and finally settled on one of the fishing rods.

“If you do not mind I will just try my luck with your fish here. I would appreciate it if I was allowed to do it in silence.”

“It would be my sincere pleasure! You will find me under the elm just over there.”

Brougham withdrew to the shade underneath the tree while Darcy took over the angling business. His Lordship sat down, rested his back against the trunk, and cut pieces of bread and cheese while he watched his friend. It was very pleasant in the shade, and it was very quiet, too. Only the rippling of the water and the birds singing in the tree above his head could be heard. This was very soothing, and before he had made a conscious decision he slid down from the trunk, crossed his arms behind his head, and placed his hat over his face. Approximately two minutes later Lord Brougham was fast asleep.

If Darcy had been feeling at least a bit better he would have wondered why on earth Brougham deemed this place a good fishing spot. He has been sitting over the stream for some time, but the water was still, and fish were nowhere to be seen. However, in his present state of mind he cared not for any effect from his pursuit. He was only content with the silence surrounding him, and he calmly waited for the tiring day to end.

Morning dawned bright and hot, and the girls woke reluctantly. They took their time dressing and readying themselves for the day—until they heard Mrs. Tournier calling up the stairs.

“Girls, the table will be clearing soon. If you do not wish to eat your breakfasts out of your bonnets, you had best hurry!”

Her announcement had the desired effect and Holly and Lizzy, laughing, came quickly down the stairs and to the table. Holly had not really been serious when she suggested the trip to Brougham’s grounds, as she had planned to begin her illustrations today. For a while she tried, while Lizzy busied herself with needlework—but the cottage was getting quite warm and her hands were perspiring, which caused her paper to stain and wrinkle. When her pencil slipped from her grasp for the hundredth time, she tossed it and her pad aside.

“Lizzy, I am sorry, but all I can think about is a cool walk along the stream. Do you suppose we might go? I am sure we can find a neighbour who is out and about and will take us to the borders of the Clyne grounds. Shall we go, please?”

"Well, I certainly can forego this needlework if you can forego your drawings. A walk by the river sounds just the thing for such a hot day."

So, after telling Mrs. Tournier what they were planning, and laughing at her predictable refusal to join them, they set out. They started off along the narrow lane, hoping to see a neighbour going at least part of their way. After a short distance they happened upon one named Duncan Cowan, who was going in the opposite direction. That was of no help, so they waved cheerily at him as he passed.

They spotted neighbours all morning. In fact Lizzy had never even realised that this many families were living in the area! They saw Mr. Mac Namell and his wife, Mr. Conacher and his sons, Mr. MacEwan with Mr. MacKichen, and Mrs. Livingston and her three daughters. But alas, all were going in a direction that they were not, so they trudged the whole distance in the heat. Hot, they finally arrived at the side of the river.

"Holly," Lizzy said, "while I am not saying that this was not an exemplary idea – to come all of this distance for a cool walk by the river – I must say I am not sure I am feeling any cooler. How about you?"

“No, in fact, I am not only still hot, but tired and footsore as well. Where has the breeze gone?”

They sat to rest a moment on a grassy bank underneath a tree. After a moment their bonnets were off and employed as makeshift fans, but with little effect.

“Lizzy, I have such fond memories of this place from when I was a child. What has happened? Of course the walk was very long, but I clearly remember how cool and refreshing it was when I finally arrived. Though the place looks just as I remember it, I am not feeling cool and refreshed at the moment.”

Leaning against the tree, Holly closed her eyes and pictured the young girl, trying to recall the past.

“Aha!” she suddenly cried out, startling Lizzy. “I know what is missing!”

Then, after looking very carefully around, she removed her shoes and stockings, walked to the edge of the stream, lifted her skirt, and waded in.

Lizzy eyed her cousin wistfully, for it was exactly the thing she was daydreaming of doing in her head. However, her daydream suddenly had someone or other walking up and catching them in such a circumstance with their skirts up around their knees. And with her luck it would be Lord Brougham travelling the limits of his property with Mr. Darcy in tow.

"Holly! We cannot!" she laughed at her. "With all of the people we have seen this morning, surely we will soon see all of Edinburgh here on an excursion! You must come back and redress. You simply must!"

At this point, Holly already had her skirt pulled up in the crook of her arm and was splashing around with the joy of a child.

“Do not be silly, Lizzy! You know as well as I do that everyone who was out this morning was headed in the opposite direction.”

Laughing, she kicked some water in Lizzy’s direction. “Come on, do not be a goose. Join me—you know you want to.”

She did want to. That was true! And Holly did look much cooler and was surely more refreshed than she herself was feeling at this moment. If only she could be sure that Mr. Darcy and his friend would not venture out this far today. But then she had the answer she wanted. It was hot. They would remain inside like any other sensible gentlemen would. They were sensible after all, were they not?

"All right, but let it be on your head if someone should come strolling along!"

She quickly removed her shoes and stockings and, hiking up her skirt, she waded into the cool river. The relief she felt was immediate. The water was cold enough to make her catch her breath, but she soon adjusted to the temperature and splashed her way to Holly.

"Some day you shall regret your impulsiveness, dear Cousin, as I often have reason to regret mine. But today all is well and such impulsiveness is called for, I do believe. I mean the threat of heat stroke was imminent, was it not, and who in their right mind would walk five miles on such a hot day to the river if they did not intend to avail themselves of its cooling effects? I just wish we could put more of ourselves in!" and she laughed at the thought.

After listening to Lizzy’s rationalisations Holly feigned a very serious look.

“Yes, it really was the only sensible thing to do. Heat stroke is a very disagreeable affliction. My mother has warned me about its effects; as you know she takes great care to avoid any chance of suffering from it personally. She would never forgive us if we allowed ourselves to fall victim to its debilitating effects.

Yes, I am quite sure Maman would approve of the extraordinary measures we have taken to assure our continued survival and well-being.”

Then, with a smile and another splash in Lizzy’s direction, Holly grabbed up her shoes and stockings from the bank and began walking upstream. “I know the pool is up this way, somewhere. There is a large stone there, where we can sit and dabble our feet in the water.”

Lizzy took up her belongings as well and followed. The bottom was rocky and uneven in some places, and their progress was slow but enjoyable. In their efforts to keep their balance, they sometimes dipped the bottom of their dresses into the on coming stream, the water soaking up them with capillary action.

Finally, Lizzy used one of her stockings as a long belt and tucked her dress hem into it, making the length more manageable. Using the other stocking to hook through her shoes, she then tied it around her neck and freed up her hands all together.

"This method is much better, Holly. You should try it!"

Delighted with Lizzy’s ingenuity, Holly followed suit. Their progress was quicker now that they were unencumbered by their skirts. As they made their way upstream to the pool, the rushes on the banks grew thicker, sometimes obscuring them from view completely. At the sight, Holly recalled a song and began to sing slyly and softly.

“Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O.”

She continued, saying, “This is our verse, cousin.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.”

She returned to the chorus in full voice, “Sing with me Lizzy!

Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O.”

Lizzy joined in the chorus with her cousin, both of their voices ringing out loud and clear above the sounds of the river. When they had finished that song, Lizzy laughed because she felt she had thought of a song that fit their situation quite aptly.

Although they were not coming through a rye field, their dresses were certainly soaked through from the hems constantly being lapped at by the moving river. So she launched into the next Burns song that had popped into her head, and Holly joined her by the second line. Having to constantly look down at their feet in order to keep their balance on the rocky bottom, they sang as they trudged along, splashing water as they went.

“Comin' thro' the rye, poor body
Comin' thro' the rye
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin' thro' the rye

Gin a body meet a body
Comin' thro' the rye
Gin a body kiss a body
Need a body cry?

Gin a body meet a body
Comin' thro' the glen
Gin a body kiss a body
Need the warld ken?”

And when they got to the chorus, they both sang it at the top of their beautiful voices.

“O Jenny's a' weet, poor body
Jenny's seldom dry
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin' thro' the rye

Gin a body kiss a body
Comin' thro' the grain
Need a body grudge a body
What's a body's ain

Every lassie has her laddie
Nane, they say, ha'e I
yet a' the lads they smile at me
When comin' thro' the Rye”

They were rounding a bend in the river and had almost reached the edge of the pool by the end of this verse. They continued on to the chorus once again for a roaring finish, both looking at each other now and singing boisterously and with great feeling.

“O Jenny's a' weet, poor body
Jenny's seldom dry
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin' thro' the rye”

With the last word just leaving her lips, Lizzy turned her head to take in the view and saw Mr. Darcy staring at her from the bank and a sleepy looking Lord Brougham a short distance behind him sitting up under a tree peering delightedly out at them both. Lizzy gasped and her mouth hung open as if it were a net ready to scoop up a fish.

 

This story is written by Laura and Sylwia, and they own full © copyrights to it.

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