Peter gave a smiling nod. ‘That sounds like an excellent plan, Gifford.’ Clearly he was relishing the opportunity to fulfil his role of heir apparent without the Duke looking over his shoulder.
Before Jennifer had the chance to ask Gifford to tell her a little more about the house, the Reverend arrived with Flossy capering around his ankles.
‘How did you sleep, Grandpapa?’ she asked, bending down to slipFlossy a furtive piece of white pudding.
‘Like a babe,’ he responded cheerfully. Jennifer had been a little worried about her grandfather’s uncustomary quiet after their arrival yesterday, especially since hissingularbehaviour during their journey, but clearly all he’d needed was a good night’s sleep – the same as the rest of them.
‘Will Felicity be coming down for breakfast?’ Jennifer asked Malcolm. ‘I was wondering if she’d be amenable to taking a stroll around the grounds …’ She glanced out of the window at the ominous clouds and added, ‘before it starts raining.’
‘Och, it’ll nae rain, jus’ a wee spot o’ mizzle,’ Gifford explained.
‘A cross between drizzle and mist,’ chuckled Peter when he saw Jennifer’s puzzled frown. ‘What about you, Grandfather. Are you up for inspecting the house, or a constitutional with the ladies?’
Although the Reverend had already decided to spend the morning having a snoop around the house, he certainly hadn’t bargained doing it in company – where the deuce was the fun in that? Tucking into his ham and eggs, he thought quickly. ‘Well, I’ve a mind to spend the morning in conversation with the Almighty,’ he answered at length. He wasn’t shamming it - he was entirely capable of talking and snooping at the same time. Come to think of it, it was a perfect opportunity to have a bit of a chat with any heathens he happened to come across.
‘Still,’ he went on slyly, ‘I reckon Flossy might appreciate a turn around the grounds after beingstuckin the carriage for so long.’
‘I’m not sure Felicity will be joining ye,’ Malcolm interjected. ‘I think she plans to stay abed today to recover from the journey.’
‘Is she ill?’ Jennifer asked anxiously.
‘I think it’s more that she wishes to keep her own company with a good book. As the good Reverend stated, we’ve all been cheek by jowl fer ower a sennight.’ He gave a grin. ‘Dinnae ye fret. Bythe morn, she’ll be more than ready to talk the hind leg off a horse again.’
Jennifer gave a relieved nod and rose to her feet. ‘I shall gather my things and wait for Flossy in the small sitting room we were in yesterday, Grandpapa. Please don’t trouble yourself to hurry. Like Felicity, I have a good book.’She refrained from mentioning that her novel was about a doctor who created an artificial man from bits and pieces of corpses. It was hardly reading matter for a man of God –or the granddaughter of one, she thought guiltily.Truly, her Aunt Prudence had a peculiar taste in fiction. Nonetheless, Jennifer had to admit the story was both riveting and terrifying.
∞∞∞
After listening to his da describe the Duke as the spawn o’ Satan for the fifth time in as many minutes, Brendon had finally had enough. ‘I cannae sit here listenin’ to ye blatherin’ fer one second more,’ he growled, pushing away his breakfast plate and climbing to his feet. ‘Yer backside’s oot the bloody windae.’ With that, he stalked from the room and made his way outside. One of these days he’d actually manage a civil leave-taking from his only surviving parent. The old bampot spent too much time remembering the old days. To hear him tell it, William Wallace died no more than twenty years back.
Brendon shook his head. He’d yet to give Dougal an accounting of what happened with the MacFarlane and the worry of what his da would do if he found out that the clan chief wasill-usingwee bairns as young as five or six… Brendon shook his head, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
What he’d discovered had to be brought out into the open, but without allies, Brendon had had no chance of bringing down MacFarlane. The Duke of Blackmore was the only one withenough influence to put a stop to the bastard’s practise of using young children to work a gold mine that everyone believed had been abandoned at least two years earlier.
He fully intended to tell Peter Sinclair the whole of what he’d discovered, but as far as Brendon was aware, the Viscount was still untried. Gifford had hinted that Malcolm Mackenzie would be accompanying his lordship. Brendon could only pray that was the truth. MacKenzie had been the Duke’s right-hand man for many years and could be relied upon not to allow the young Viscount to simply take matters into his own hands and jump out of the bloody frying pan into the fire.
Brendon was also painfully aware that had the Duke known what Caerlaverock’s neighbour was involved in, his grace would never have sent his son and heir into such a conflation.
Confessing all might risk his chance of becoming Caerlaverock’s next steward, but in truth, it didn’t matter. It was far more important to save the children still living from the same fate as those poor wee bairns he’d discovered by accident three months ago.
With difficulty he swallowed his anxious thoughts and concentrated on his next step. He’d been instructed to go to Caelaverock at two p.m. He was already wearing his Sunday best tweed and had no intention of returning anywhere near his cantankerous father until well after his interview was finished.
Tucking his cap into his pocket, Brendon took the track towards the loch shore, Fergus trotting happily beside him. The walk was nigh on an hour, but it would help clear his mind and hopefully calm his ire. Going into the meeting at Caerlaverock with an uneven temper would serve no one.
Directly in front of him, in the middle of the loch, the tiny island ofInchgalbraith rose eerily out of the mist. It was once a stronghold of the Galbraith Clan, and to his da, it still was.Brendon had no doubt the daftie would cheerfully live like some tattyboggle in the ruins of the castle his ancestors had built there.
Though Dougal refused to acknowledge it, the truth was that Clan Galbraith had ceased to exist over two hundred years ago. The penalty for being on the wrong side of yet another rebellion. Most of the worthwhile land had been sold to the then Duke of Blackmore who’d promptly built a house right on the shores of Loch Lomond. According to his da, the position of the building had been deliberate – simply to rub what was left of Clan Galbraith’s noses in the dirt.
While Brendon doubted the reason had anything to do with a desire to provoke the sad remnants of a disgraced Clan, they unquestionably had a wonderful view of the magnificent mansion from the rundown tower that was all that remained of his great, great, great grandda’s home.
∞∞∞
Jennifer was glad she’d elected to put on her warmest pelisse and bonnet. In truth, she’d never expected to wear either of them, and had only packed them on her mother’s insistence. Evidently the vagaries of the Scottish weather had remained engrained in the Duchess’s mind.
Exiting the courtyard through a small gate in the wall to the left of the main entrance, Jennifer stepped onto a path that appeared to weave down through the trees towards the edge of the loch. Letting Flossy off her lead, she smiled as she watched the little dog dash backwards and forwards, nose to the ground, clearly lured by the multitude of exciting smells.
Carefully picking her way along the stony track, Jennifer felt a sudden easing in her chest as though something heavy had just been lifted. Out here, there was no one to disapprove. No one toinstruct her to be someone she wasn’t. She knew that both her parents were beyond proud of the woman she’d become. They had always allowed her the freedom of her own opinions. But, though they had little time for the ridiculous dictates of society and balked against them whenever they could, even a powerful force such as the Duke of Blackmore was forced to at least pay them lip service.
And society said that women did as they were told and did it quietly, without complaint.
