A Maxwell Mourned by Gwen Kirkwood Page B

Alice. ‘She was one of Rachel’s favourite people.’
    ‘Then I am flattered,’ Alice acknowledged, but she remained cautious. She did not know why it was so important to her that she should approve of Ross’s wife. She just knew that it was vital to the future of her beloved Glens of Lochandee that they should approve of each other, and get along together. Her experiences with Watt Kerr and his crooked ways had shaken her confidence in human nature.
    Rachel was delighted with the large carved oak cot which Alice had prepared for Conan. Ross was amazed at her preparations, even improvising sheets and blankets.
    The two days which Rachel spent at Lochandee were filled with new sights and experiences. Conan had taken an instant liking to Beth and crawled after her like a small devoted puppy, much to the girl’s delight.
    ‘I was used to playing with my half-brother and sister,’ she told Rachel. ‘I miss them sometimes, but I like living here with Mistress Beattie. I hate my step mother,’ she said with childlike candour. ‘I know it’s wicked to say so, but I do.’ She looked pleadingly at Rachel. ‘Will Mistress Beattie send me back when you come to live at Lochandee?’
    ‘Oh, surely not!’ Rachel was dismayed. She liked thirteen-year-old Beth and she understood her feelings after her own experience with Gertrude Maxwell. ‘Would you like me to ask Mrs Beattie what plans she has?’
    ‘Would you Mrs Maxwell? I’d be ever so grateful.’
    Rachel was startled for a moment, scarcely recognising herself as Mrs Maxwell.
    It was her last evening and Rachel took the opportunity to tell Mrs Beattie of Beth Pearson’s anxiety.
    ‘I had not considered so far ahead,’ Alice said truthfully, ‘I am glad you told me, Rachel. I would like to keep Beth. She’s scarcely more than a child but she’s very willing.’
    ‘I wouldn’t like to be the cause of her dismissal,’ Rachel said with concern, ‘but I hope I shall be able to help Ross earn his part of the agreement he made with you. She looked at Ross. ‘We have not discussed how we are to live, or what I am to do when we move to the cottage. Will there be work for me in the dairy? I did not see any butter making?’
    ‘Rachel is especially good at churning,’ Ross told Alice Beattie. ‘I have been thinking about some changes, especially now there are three of us to keep.’
    ‘What had you in mind, Ross?’ Alice Beattie asked curiously, quite unprepared for the suggestions which Ross must have been mulling over, even before he brought Rachel and his son to Lochandee. Perhaps their arrival had precipitated his ideas into plans.
    ‘I have a little money of my own. It was left to me by my grandfather. I would like to use it to buy more cows. I would like to see the byres of Lochandee full again. Rachel is a good milker and perhaps we could sell her butter locally, and set more eggs for hatching so we have more eggs to sell and …’
    ‘Are you proposing to be a farmer or a shopkeeper, Ross?’ Alice asked.
    ‘A farmer of course, but now that I have a wife I must try to bring more money to our partnership. That’s only fair. You know how much I want a farm of my own.’
    ‘I do, but you have taken me by surprise. I need time to think – and so do you.’
    ‘I have thought …’
    ‘Not about every aspect,’ Alice cautioned. ‘For one thing you have not said how the extra money will be divided. You are not a tenant, there’ll be additional costs – and some losses no doubt. You may buy in disease with unknown cattle – tuberculosis, foot-and-mouth, abortion for example …’
    ‘Don’t mention such things!’ Ross shuddered.
    ‘But I must. Don’t be too hasty. You might lose everything. Now,’ Alice Beattie took a deep breath and sat up straighter. ‘I have some news for Rachel. Mr Shaw, the Factor for the estate, is coming tomorrow morning with his motor car. He will take you back to the railway station.’
    Ross sighed with