The Eyes of Love. Barbara Cartland
that the Earl of Dornoch would be interested in a local girl of local Scottish descent and a member of his Clan.
‘I expect,’ she thought, ‘that as soon as he can see again he will be off to London, like so many of the young Chieftains today, who neglect their duty to their Clans because they find the big City more alluring than the moors and salmon rivers.’
It had been a subject for condemnation all through the last century and it was, of course, quite understandable that the young Scottish Chieftains so wanted to enjoy themselves and be with their contemporaries.
They found it more fun than dealing with all the local difficulties and endless problems of a Scottish estate.
Yet Clansmen relied on them to the point where they hardly thought for themselves.
Vara was well aware of how much the McDorns had been looking forward to having a new Chieftain and how disappointed they must be feeling now.
“Do your best, darling,” her mother said, “and naturally if you want us at any time, your father and I will come and help in any way we possibly can.”
“I know you will, Mama,” Vara replied, “but, if the Earl thinks my English accent is not good enough for him, I may return home tomorrow morning.”
“If that happened,” the Minister said, “his Lordship will have to talk to the gulls for there is no one else I can turn to on his behalf.”
“I am sure, Minister,” Lady McDorn said, “that Vara will do what you ask of her very successfully.”
She had risen painfully to her feet and then shook hands warmly with the Minister.
Then she put her arms round her daughter and held her close.
“Take care of yourself, my darling. Your father and I will be counting the days until you come back to us.”
Vara kissed her mother.
“I will be over to see you tomorrow,” she promised, “come hell or high water!”
Feeling perhaps that she had been indiscreet in front of the Minister, she turned to look at him.
He was smiling.
“Come along, Vara,” was all he said. “It may not be as difficult as you think and you will certainly be taking a great deal of weight off my shoulders.”
The General accompanied them to the door.
The Minister’s carriage was an old one, drawn by a horse that was too fat to move very fast. A groom was holding its head, although it had no intention of moving until prodded.
As the Minister picked up the reins, he said,
“Thank you, Ewen. You have been very helpful to me.”
“If you ask me, Minister,” the General remarked, “you feed that horse too well.”
“I expect you are right,” the Minister agreed, “but when she tells me that she is hungry, I don’t like to refuse her.”
The old groom, who had been with the Minister for years, grinned.
“You dinna say that, sir,” he said, “when we drinks too much at a funeral!”
The Minister shook his head and did not reply.
He had complained that after funerals, which in Scotland were attended only by men, the mourners were often so drunk on secretly distilled whisky from the moors that they could not find their way home.
The groom touched his cap respectfully and Vara waved to her mother and father as the Minister drove his carriage away from the front door.
She looked back to see her beloved parents standing on the steps of the house and she thought that they were looking a little forlorn.
‘They mind my leaving them,’ she told herself. ‘But Papa knows that I must do what I can to help the Clan.’
She waved her hand until she could see them no longer.
She then settled down comfortably to enjoy her drive.
They were going over the high road that would eventually take them to The Castle.
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