Inveraray Castle
Nathan had been trying for ages to entice Tamsin round to his place to listen to his Harry Belafonte record collection. So far she has declined his invitation. Wise move. Nathan’s mother warned Tamsin if she does accept his offer to keep a clear head and an alert mind at all times when around Nathan.
I saw my lifelong friendship of two weeks crash soon after I met Nathan. It wasn’t as if we had little in common. We had nothing in common. His love interest is now squarely aimed at Tamsin and I know what is going to happen. Her mother is going to ask me where I find these strange male creatures of the opposite species, as if it’s my fault.
Anyway, it was a new day. Better still it was the weekend and I will be going home. I confirmed with Tamsin and Rebecca that they were both aware they had been invited to stay at Inveraray for the weekend. That’s Rebecca Macleod, not Rebecca Tate who left the college. Tamsin’s home is only about ten miles north of us at Kilchurn on Loch Awe so she might pop home for an hour or two over the weekend.
Beecham had arranged for Andrew the stable lad to pick all three of us up at Oban Airport. On arriving at Inveraray mother told us she had also invited Lord and Lady Bêsant-Carter over for the weekend. They were staying in the district from their home in Edinburgh.
At least father will have the chance to pair with another connoisseur to discuss what constitutes the finer points of a good whisky;
a good whisky being a Chivas Regal. So father was armed with two bottles in case the choice was to become demanding and time-consuming.
Meanwhile, mother was paired with Mrs Dalrymple against Lady Bêsant-Carter and Mrs Pasta in a game of bridge. She is not a relative of the Carter-Browns – that’s Lady Bêsant-Carter, not Mrs Pasta.
With dinner over the bridge players assembled in the Green Room. Mother said Betty Flowers, the gardeners wife had telephoned earlier to inform her that the Wassailing Club at the Argyll hostelry in the village had been closed down by order of the police due to the continued noise complaints so she was unable to attend the bridge party this evening. No, it was not the hostelry that was closed down just the Wassailing club and she was required to ferry her inebriated husband home.
While the cards were being shuffled and dealt mother recounted an event that had happened earlier that afternoon.
She said whilst walking along the western corridor of Inveraray Castle a maintenance man had reported seeing a small water stain on the edge of the ceiling running down the cornice and onto the wall of the gallery. He told her husband it appears there was a small leak in the roof and it should be attended to as soon as possible.
Maintenance was taken very seriously at Inveraray Castle, as father rightly pointed out, although it might be our home, we cannot take it with us when we go. It is the people’s history. It was a legacy and Inveraray belongs to the people.
The builders in the village were notified immediately and the foreman and his son a student architect came and inspected the roof. During the inspection, they did find a number of broken tiles. They also found a mattress in the attic which had everyone mystified. The tiles were replaced that same day.
The dusty straw mattress was brought down from the roof. It was anyone’s guess how many years the mattress had lain hidden in the attic but from its dusty state, it had been a very long time. It was temporarily laid in the old kitchen while it was examined.
As an aside, but still on the subject of kitchens, I should make mention of our college kitchen at Denham Hall and the culinary delights they fed us, girls. Our tuckshop specialty was cheese and cardboard wafers, and apples, and stuff. At home at Inveraray there are no meals of what would be termed ‘foreign design’; oh there was an exception for noodles. By foreign, I mean eastern exotic foods like curries, pizza’s or Chinese or birds nest soup and the like.
Mother said curries are fine for Indian persons living in Bombay or Karachi and its environs but not in the Inveraray Castle kitchens or the café’s in the village. Whether father partook of these ‘exotic foods’ on his overseas travel who knows.
Now back to the mattress. The truth can be lost over time and the story that a young harpist was killed for just taking a peep at the lady of the castle is too silly for words. Even Tamsin noted this punishment was way over the top for taking a peep at the lady of the castle, whether she was clad or in her birthday suit or not.
It is said he is a friendly ghost that appears more often to women and is rarely seen by men which could go a long way to explain why he was butchered, because if the harpist was a Roué or a debauched person then I suspect his strengths were not so much in playing the harp as cohabiting with the lady or ladies of the house, and that’s all I’m saying.
As I said there were a number of ghosts that dwelt in Inveraray Castle, but we will discuss the harpist ghost.
To put you in the picture the Duke of Argyll was driven from his castle in the year 1644 by the Marquis of Montrose. But the Duke's harpist was left behind. Some sources say the harpist was left behind as punishment for peeping at the lady of the castle.
Another tale is the Marquis of Montrose ordered him to be executed by hanging. Being Irish the harpist was accused of being a spy. Other reports I have read say he was slaughtered and his remains left on a bed. For warranting such a cruel sentence I suspect it was a little more than just a peep.
Since his death the harpist has been seen roaming Inveraray castle, playing his harp and dressed in the Campbell tartan.
The story of the harpist took on a new turn when the mattress was found. Mrs. Pasta, the kitchen hand, while inspecting the mattress, found what appeared to be a deliberate tear in the side of the mattress. I would hastily add this harpist person might have had more than one clandestine thing going on at the same time, so we must not necessarily point the finger at the lady of the castle.
On further investigation, a part written note was found as well as a spare set of unboxed new harp strings. I like to put all the facts before my readers.
It was assumed the letter was written by the harpist warning the lady, whoever she was, that he suspected their tryst in the castle attic had been uncovered and suggested their relationship should end here and now.
I agree there may have been a number of young ladies in the distant past that may have been invited by the harpist for a tour around the castle’s attic, be they servants, scullery maids or kitchen staff.
Here is food for thought. The 3rd and 4th Dukes were both renowned soldiers and their reputations were almost destroyed by the 5th Duke, I think I have got that right. He was a playboy and he left a string of debts. So it is possible if this chappie left a string of debts he also left a string of children that just might have been conceived during tours in the attic that I write of? Just saying.
To my gentle readers I have deliberately omitted the full title of the Duke who was in residence of the castle at the time of these clandestine meetings, if only to shield the name of his good lady wife who was she still alive could also be slanderously accused of nocturnal visits, but more importantly to protect her reputation, that’s assuming she had a reputation to protect that is and had not accepted any offers for guided tour of the attic.
I grant you frankly it does not matter anymore but nevertheless, reputations are important for the living and the dead.
The bridge game started. As the bottles of Chivas Regal 25 were freed from their cork restraints father turned to Colonel Carter-Brown and Lord Bêsant-Carter and proposed a toast to the young harpist. Glasses were raised, toasts offered and Mrs Dalrymple opened the bidding with two hearts as I, Tamsin and Rebecca retired to the saloon.
