Gritting her teeth, Jennifer determinedly turned her mind to the problem of the missing children. When she’d shared the story of Edward Colman’s treasure at dinner, the response had been one of excited enthusiasm - the most surprising being that of her grandfather. She had no idea what had transpired to give him such a change of heart, but the churlish, sour-faced individual who’d stomped out of the drawing room earlier in the day was notably absent at the dinner table. Oh there had been one or two chinks in the armour of his cheerfulness – particularly when it was suggested that he and Dougal Galbraith might eventually become good friends – but overall, she had to admit that the forthright grandfather she’d grown up with appeared firmly back in charge, even if his response to the suggestion he and Dougal might warm to each other was that he doubted he’d warm to Dougal Galbraith if they were cremated together.
Brendon had not been present for dinner, but then neither had Gifford. Apparently, it wasn’t usual for the steward of the house to eat with the family. Since Jennifer had grown up with Malcolm - whose official role was that of her father’s valet – eating often at their dinner table, she had to admit to finding it strange. And in truth, somewhat disappointing…
Gradually Jennifer’s eyes began to close until at long last she finally fell asleep.
∞∞∞
The next day again dawned fair and sunny. Without examining her reasoning, Jennifer took quite a time with her toilet, settlingeventually on a day dress the colour of the wild heather that grew everywhere. Jenet pinned her hair up in a simple chignon complete with purple ribbon and she finished her ensemble with a pink and purple plaid shawl which had been a parting gift from her mother in honour of her first adult visit to Scotland.
On walking into the breakfast room, she stifled her disappointment to see it empty, taking herself to task as she did so. Really, she had to put a stop to this ridiculous infatuation with a man she could not possibly have a future with.
Unfortunately, the stern telling off didn’t stop her heart from doing somersaults as she caught the sound of his deep voice calling to Fergus outside the window. Seating herself at the breakfast table, she fought to get her racing pulse under control before he came through the door.
‘Guid mornin’, ma lady.’ His voice when it finally came was polite, but nothing more. Indeed, as she glanced up at him, she gave a small frown. His face too was closed, giving nothing away.
‘Good morning, Mr. Galbraith,’ she responded taking care to keep her own voice equally noncommittal. As she spoke, she busied herself shaking out her napkin and placing it on her knee.
‘It’s nae a guid mornin’ when ah’m dragged oot o’ bed tae spend time wi a turnip-heided God walloper.’ Dougal Galbraith’s mood had clearly not improved like that of her grandfather. Fighting a sudden urge to laugh, Jennifer bit her lip. Brendon was most definitely not amused if the tightness around his mouth was anything to go by.
‘Hae ye got any o’ that tablet,’ the old Scot went on to ask the maid.
‘Da, ye’ll have what’s on the sideboard and be grateful.’ Dougal scowled, but didn’t respond to his son’s admonishment, choosing instead to help himself to a plate of ham and eggs.
The Reverend chose that moment to enter the breakfast room. He paused for a second when he saw Dougal tucking into his pile of ham, then with a small cough, offered a jovial, ‘Good morning to you, Dougal. I trust you’re well.’
The old Scot paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, then looked behind to see if there happened to be another Dougal behind him. Seeing nobody else answering to the same name, he frowned and turned back. ‘Be ye talkin’ tae me?’ he muttered staring at the Reverend as though the clergyman had suddenly sprouted a second head.
Augustus Shackleford swallowed and offered a quick internal prayer before declaring gruffly that he believed they’d got off to an unfortunate start and suggesting they put the last two days behind them.’
By this time, Dougal was convinced his nemesis had been somehow replaced. ‘Who be ye?’ he growled, narrowing his eyes as though he might see through the imposter. ‘Hae the God walloper bin taken awa by the wee folk?’
The Reverend visibly gritted his teeth, doing his best to remind himself of the sun shining down into the arbour the day before. His irritation was made worse by the fact that Flossy seemed delighted to see the old Scot, promptly jumping onto his knee and making herself comfortable. Finally managing to swallow his ire, Augustus Shackleford stomped to the sideboard and helped himself to breakfast.
‘Bring me another bit o’ that bread wad ye…?’
Fortunately, before all the Reverend’s good intentions disappeared into the ether, Peter, Malcolm and Felicity entered the room. ‘Would you ask Gifford to bring Finn to speak with us?’ the Viscount asked the maid, seating himself next to Jennifer.
‘Would ye like me tae bring anothor pot o’ tea while ah’m there,ma lord?’ Peter nodded gratefully and smiled, causing the maid to colour up and smother a slight giggle.
Jennifer regarded her brother with amusement. It was hard sometimes to understand the attention Peter was given by ladies of all persuasions. She supposed he was good looking in a very ‘like their father’ kind of way, but … well, to her he was simply her sibling – and a deuced irritating one at that.
A few minutes later, Finn trailed reluctantly in behind the steward. ‘How are you, Finn?’ Peter asked with another warm smile. The boy gave a clumsy bow and mumbled, ‘Ah be braw, thank ye, ma lord.’
‘We’d like to ask you a few more questions,’ the Viscount added. ‘Would that be acceptable to you?’ Finn stared at him for second, then nodded.
‘Can ye tell us how ye escaped frae the mine, lad?’ Brendon questioned, taking care not to give the impression that the boy had done anything wrong.
‘Ah felled,’ Finn answered hesitantly. ‘Ah didnae keep up wi’ th’others an’ ah was locked oot the sleepin’ room.’ He paused and looked round. ‘He would hae giein me a skelpin’, so ah hid an’ then followed him up tae th’entrance afore it was closed up fer the night. Ah hid‘til he gaed tae sleep.’ He gave a loud imitation snore followed by a grin. ‘Then ah ran.’
‘How did you manage to reach the boathouse?’ Jennifer asked gently.
‘Ah dinnae ken,’ Finn replied, shaking his head. ‘Ah dae ken ah walked an’ walked an’ then ah saw the wee hoose…’ he stopped and gave another shrug.
‘Do they lock the entrance to the mine every night, Finn?’ Malcolm asked. The boy shrugged, then nodded. ‘Ah think so.’
‘So after locking you and your companions in your …sleepingroom, the man would then lock the main entrance on his way out of the mine?’
‘Aye.’ Finn’s nod was more decisive.
