Page 1 of Enlightened

Chapter One

February 1823, Perthshire

“What do you say, Mr. McNally? It’s a generous offer.”

McNally considered, the furrows on his brow deep as a new-ploughed field, while David watched him, waiting patiently for a response. McNally’s craggy face was weather-beaten from years spent outside, and his clothes were plain and homely. He was no gentleman farmer, but David did not underestimate him. The man was successful and canny. He’d tripled the size of his holdings over the last ten years, and the yields he achieved were consistently good, far better than any of his neighbours’.

“So, His Lordship’s just goin’ tae let me have the whole o’ that west field?” he said now, his frown sceptical.

David nodded. “As I said, His Lordship wishes to bring the court case to an end and to repair neighbourly relations. He is willing not only to give up all claims to the west field but to convey his own share to you. All he asks in return is that you abandon your dispute over the boundary line to the south.”

“Perhaps I’m not minded tae give up that claim,” McNally said carefully, watching David.

David smiled. “Now, Mr. McNally, you know and I know that it’s a bad claim.” When McNally opened his mouth to protest, David added smoothly, “But His Lordship understands why you raised it. You were defending yourself against Sir Hamish. It’s perfectly understandable.”

The late Sir Hamish Muir had raised the court action against McNally a decade ago. The present owner, Lord Murdo Balfour, who had purchased the Laverock estate in its entirety from Sir Hamish’s beleaguered executors two years previously, had discovered its existence only a few months ago, when David had begun to slowly piece together the great, disorganised mess that was Sir Hamish’s private papers.

It had certainly explained the black looks and stony silences that McNally had been sending Murdo’s way all this time.

“Ye’re right I was defendin’ myself,” McNally said, wagging a finger at David. “Fight fire with fire, that’s what my old man always said. And it’s cost me awful dear in this case, Mr. Lauriston, awful dear!”

“Which is why His Lordship is prepared to offer twenty-five pounds toward the costs you have incurred,” David said, playing his final card.

“Twenty-five pound?”

McNally’s surprise at that offer was plain. David smiled and waited.

Sir Hamish had been not merely quarrelsome with his neighbours, he had been a litigious old bugger who’d served a dozen writs in the last decade of his life, claiming to own plots of land here, there and everywhere. Over the last month, David had brought most of the festering disputes to an end by simply withdrawing the case in question and offering an olive branch to the other party in the form of an invitation to tea with His Lordship. There were a few, however, like this one with McNally, that were trickier. Cases where the other party had counterclaimed, as McNally had, when Sir Hamish had tried to establish that he owned not merely half of the west field at the edge of the Laverock estate, but the whole of it.

It was the worst sort of nonsense. The truth was, the field in question was nothing but a rocky bit of upland. It was suitable only for sheep to graze on, and Murdo already had plenty of land like that, most of which was far more convenient and had better grazing than the godforsaken corner of the world that was the west field. Worse, the boundary wall going down the middle of the field was falling into disrepair after ten years of neglect and needed replacing. In short, it was nothing to Murdo to give away his half of the field. To McNally, though, it was a victory against Sir Hamish. Particularly when sweetened with twenty-five pounds toward McNally’s lawyer’s bills.

“Done,” McNally said, thrusting out his hand. “The truth is, I’d fair like tae see the back o’ that court case meself. I’ve had enough o’ lawyers tae last me a lifetime, Mr. Lauriston. Nae offence.”

David took McNally’s hand and shook it. “None taken, Mr. McNally. His Lordship will be pleased you agreed to his proposal. And he is keen to get to know his neighbours better. Would you and your wife agree to dine at Laverock House on Wednesday evening? The Blairs are coming.”

McNally’s brows went up at that. “Has he settled with old man Blair an’ all? Last time I spoke to Willie Blair, he told me there was nothin’ Lord Murdo could offer that he’d bite at.”

David just smiled. “Well now, that’s something you’ll have to ask Mr. Blair about,” he said, rising from his chair. His leg protested with a shaft of pain, but he schooled his expression to show no discomfort. “So, may we expect you and Mrs. McNally on Wednesday?”

“Aye, then, what time shall we come?”

“Does six o’clock sound all right?”

“Six o’clock,” McNally agreed, nodding. “Come on and I’ll show ye out, Mr. Lauriston.”

McNally was in a better mood on David’s way out than on his way in. He introduced his wife and three daughters, who were sewing in the parlour, and gave him a brief tour of the farm buildings outside the farmhouse, including his new dairy. It was a good farm, tidy, well kept and industrious. It reminded David of his father’s farm, though this was much bigger.

When he made a comment to that effect, McNally warmed up even more.

“Ye were a farm boy, then?”

“Born and bred.” David smiled.

“I knew there was a reason I liked ye.” McNally grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “All the lawyers I met before were as stiff as if they had poles up their arses. Why did ye decide to become one of them?”

“I have an older brother,” David offered, “so he’ll get the farm.” That wasn’t the whole explanation, not really, but it seemed to satisfy McNally.

“Ah well,” McNally said as he showed David out the door, his tone heavy with sympathy, “it seems ye’ve found yer way back to the country now, Mr. Lauriston. It’s a good man o’ business you are, tae His Lordship.”