Chapter 13
Charlie didn’t knowwhether to feel appalled or furious. Her stomach churned with a mixture of emotions as she stood with Flora, Joseph and Antonio, staring at the charred ruins of the windmill.
Despite the attempts of the bucket crews, they’d not been able to get the fire under control until the wooden scaffolding and sails had been all but destroyed. Now only a smoldering wreck remained, surrounded by a ring of distraught villagers, all staring at the ruin of their hopes just as Charlie was.
Sabotage, was the whisper. Arson. But who would do such a thing? Who would be so cruel?
She had no clue, but Niall clearly did. Nobody had laid eyes on him since he’d gone storming off earlier this morning. She worried for him. She’d never seen him so cold, so filled with icy rage. He’d looked dangerous and unpredictable, like a blade that would cut anything that came too close.
“We can rebuild,” said Joseph for the umpteenth time. “Most of the stone structure is intact. We just need to reinforce what’s left and make some new sails.”
Nobody seemed to have the energy to reply. Yes, they might be able to rebuild but Charlie was under no illusions as to the amount of work that would take. Did these people have the will to come back from such a disaster?
The only saving grace was that nobody had been hurt and Charlie knew they should be grateful for that. Things could have been far, far, worse. But, looking out at the sea of morose faces, she knew they didn’t see it that way.
She sighed. “I’d better go check on the kiln. If there’s anything I can do to help, be sure to come get me, okay?”
Flora nodded and Joseph squeezed her arm. “Aye, lass. We will.”
Charlie gave them a small smile and walked off, wishing she didn’t feel so useless, wishing there was something she could do.There is, she told herself.You can turn the pottery to these people’s benefit, just like you planned.
One thing that the fire at the mill had underlined, was that brick and tile didn’t burn as readily as wood. If she could begin a manufactory for such materials, at least the villagers’ homes would be safer from fire in the future. It was a small thing, but at least it was something.
She walked down the hill, away from the mill, and took the winding path that led through the pastures towards the pottery. But as she did so, something in the distance caught her eye and she stopped, squinting against the light.
It was a horse and rider and they were galloping at breakneck pace towards Glennoch. It took a moment for Charlie to recognize the figure crouched low on the horse’s back.
Niall!
He rode straight up to the manor house doors, jumped from the saddle and disappeared inside the house, leaving the lathered horse to begin eating Flora’s flowers from the flowerbed. Charlie winced. Niall would have to answer for that later.
All thoughts of the pottery forgotten, she hurried back to Glennoch, pulled the horse away from Flora’s flower beds, called over a stable boy to take the animal, then hurried into the house.
It was much quieter than usual with most people still up at the mill. She paused in the entrance then crossed to her left and pushed open the door to the hall. The big room was just as it had been left when everyone exited in such a rush, with half-finished breakfasts still on the table. A lone maid was beginning to tidy up.
“Have you seen Niall?” Charlie asked her.
The young woman looked up. “Nay, my lady,” she replied. “Lord Campbell didnae come this way.”
Turning on her heel, Charlie headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time, and striding along the corridor until she reached the door to Niall’s study. She knocked once but didn’t wait for a reply, instead pushing the door open and striding inside.
Niall looked up in surprise from where he was busy scribbling on a piece of parchment at his desk. He quickly dropped the parchment into a drawer.
“Charlotte,” he said, his tone stiff and formal. “What can I do for ye?”
“I came to see if you are all right,” Charlie replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “When you went charging off like that I thought you might be about to commit murder.” She cocked her head. “You didn’t, did you? Commit murder, I mean?”
