1980
I’d been walking in the grounds of Fyvie Castle, first along the river Ythan and then back along the side of the loch to reach the castle. Even after a month here, the sight of it suddenly looming up behind the trees never ceased to impress. It was so majestic in both size and style. Also, it was not at all obvious that bits had been added on over the centuries. I walked over the muddy ground and up the slope to the south-east of the castle, to the ruins of a small chapel in what used to be called the inner garden. This had been a symmetrical knot garden with shrubs and low hedgerows, created by Alexander Seton to impress his distinguished guests as it was visible from the relatively large windows of the main rooms on the first floor. I stepped over the remains of the walls of the chapel and stared down at the weathered flagstones on the ground. I realised there were inscriptions on the stone and peered down to read.
I knew Alexander Seton wasn’t buried here, but at Dalgety Bay in Fife, and I’d discovered that Lilias’s grave was also there, though I still couldn’t find out why she’d been at Loch Leven Castle. I presumed his second and third wives were also buried in the family vault in Fife.
The inscriptions included crests, letters and some Latin numbers. I decided I’d come back with my notebook and take notes and sketches, look more closely. One stone had an M and an S on it – but the date was impossible to read. Did the letters stand for Margaret Seton? The distinctive crescent of the Seton family crest was visible beside the engraving, so it was definitely one of the Seton family. But Alexander had two daughters named Margaret, 197 one who had died in infancy, and of course his third wife was my namesake, Margaret Hay, later Seton. When I’d discovered the fact we shared a name, I felt rather spooked, but then I began to think that perhaps she was not just the only wife to outlive him (by decades) but also hopefully the one wife to get the better of him, as I already had the feeling he didn’t treat the first two well; he came across as ruthlessly ambitious.
Also, though he was an almost acceptable fifteen years older than Lilias, he was thirty years older than Grizel and then thirty-seven years older than his third and final wife, Margaret. Even given my own situation, that age gap was indecent. Especially as the wives were all fifteen or sixteen when they married. I shivered: what a horrific thought.
I had been thinking of Len rather a lot. Though I had known him all my life – he was Dad’s best friend after all – we only properly got together after Allison died. I remember so clearly being at her funeral and everyone saying such sweet things to the grieving widower. I’d just had my Higher results and knew I had got into university, so I was just seventeen; he was forty-two. When I think about that now – rationally – it seems ridiculous. But I was in love and thought it was reciprocated.
I thought back to the Hogmanay party the year before she’d died and the moment he kissed me at midnight, when Allison was in hospital. I was so infatuated, I didn’t even care if Mum or Dad saw us lingering far too long in each other’s arms. From that moment on, I wanted more. Yes, he was twenty-five years older than me, but that did not matter. Then we started seeing each other casually at the tennis courts where he would tell Dad he was coaching me for great things. There was always a special bond between us, even in those innocent early days.
When I spent that summer before university as a chamber maid in Oban, I remembered my friend Ann’s face when he arrived in 198 his flashy car. I hadn’t said anything about Len being much older and she looked at first confused and then utterly shocked as he stepped out of the car and rushed over to kiss me; but not as shocked as Mum and Dad, when they found out.
I sighed and headed back to the castle for my 2pm tour. I had not yet had an opportunity to get into the Charter Room before Mr David returned at the weekend and so I was desperate to get this last tour over with. Would I be able to find a key for those glass cabinets and old wooden filing drawers?
I had found out that Lilias only bore daughters – five – of whom one, the first Margaret, died in infancy. I was still to determine what she died of, but there were so many infant deaths in those days. And then the second wife, Grizel, had first a son, Charles, then later a daughter whom they named Lilias, which seemed rather odd to me. When I read that his third wife Margaret had a son and then a daughter, I chuckled. Surely he would not want to name this baby girl after his previous wife, but yes, I discovered her name was Grizel. Alexander Seton perhaps felt he needed to salve his conscience for the way he had treated his first two wives by naming the first daughter of his next wife after the last. By this stage of my research, I was sure I did not like him one jot, but I had to admire his gall.