‘Fer his son’s sake I hope. Brendon’s a guid lad. He was steward tae the MacFarlane up tae three months back. Ah dinnae ken exactly what happened, an’ Brendon willnae speak o’ it, but ah dae ken Alastair MacFarlane’s no the full shillin.’
‘I hope he’ll tell me the truth of what transpired,’ Peter interrupted with a worried frown. ‘If he refuses to speak of it, I cannot risk putting my father’s estate into his hands.’
‘Aye, ah ken,’ Gifford sighed. ‘But ah reckon the lad’ll come clean wi ye. The Gilbraiths need the coin. That place o’ theirs’ll be roond their ears come winter. But ah’ve told the lad the Duke values honesty above all things.’
‘Amen to that,’ declared the Reverend, brandishing his emptywhisky glass. Jennifer smothered a grin. Evidently, her grandfather had put aside his internal battle with debauchery for the moment.
Shortly afterwards, they were shown to their respective bedchambers. Jennifer’s turned out to be a large airy room with the same highly decorated ceiling as downstairs. The polished wooden floor was covered with thick rugs and in the middle of the room stood an enormous fourposter bed. Her belongings had already been unpacked and a fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth of an exquisitely carved fireplace. But best of all, in front of it stood a large tin bath full of steaming hot water.
Without further ado, Jennifer shrugged off her stained travel clothes and dipped a toe into the water. Still deliciously hot. With a groan, she stepped in and sank to her haunches. Truly, it was bliss. Halfway through, a cheery lady’s maid knocked and entered with a bale of towels in her arms.
‘Guid tae meet yer ma lady, ah’m Jenet,’ she beamed with a quick curtsy. ‘Will ye be wantin’ yer hair washin’ noo?’
Jennifer gave a delighted sigh and nodded. Then she tuned out the maid’s excited chatter and gave herself up to the simple enjoyment of being pampered. Forty-five minutes later, she was wrapped in a gigantic towel in front of the fire while Jenet brushed her hair to help it dry.
‘I think I may go for a walk before dinner,’ Jennifer mused as the maid bade her turn the back of her head towards the fire.
‘Och, ye dinnae want tae be oot noo wi the midges, m’lady,’ Jenet proclaimed in horror. ‘The wee beasties’ll gie ye more’n a nasty bite.’
‘My mother mentioned the midges,’ Jennifer answered. ‘I’d forgotten all about them. She says they’re worst at dawn and dusk.’
‘Aye, her grace has the right o’ it. Dae ye wait ‘til the mornin’ when the wee beasties be abed an’ ye’ll nae end up lookin’ like ye been skelped.’
Jennifer smiled at the maid, though she had no idea whatskelpedmeant, she understood enough to recognise it wasn’t something she’d relish.
‘Ah’ll be back tae gae ye a hand in dressin’ fer dinner,’ Jenet continued, helping her into a robe and picking up the travelworn clothing. ‘Will ye rest until then ma lady?’
Wrapping the robe around her, Jennifer nodded her thanks. ‘I confess I’m done to a cow’s thumb, and the bed looks wonderfully inviting.’
As Jenet departed, she climbed to her feet, intending to get into bed, but the orange and pink hues splashing across the sky like an artist’s palate drew her to the window. Below her was the large courtyard they’d first arrived at. There was no sign of the carriages, and Jennifer guessed the horses would be getting a well-deserved pampering.
Beyond the courtyard, the ground sloped gently towards a copse of trees, and beyond them, the loch spread out in all its glory. The bluff on which the house stood was not so high, but enough to see a goodly way in both directions.
Resting her head against the mullioned pane, Jennifer drank in the scenery, wondering how her father could have stayed away for so long. The wild beauty of the land called to her in a way she couldn’t even begin to explain. Already, she was dreading the thought of having to return to the mayhem that was London.
∞∞∞
Reverend Shackleford sat by the fire and brooded. This wasso unlike him, he found himself actually brooding about his brooding. In truth, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was wrong. The dinner had been more than edible and the company excellent. Flossy had clearly settled in very quickly if her deuced snoring was anything to go by - she was currently lying as close to the hearth as she could without actually setting her coat alight.
Mayhap he was simply tired. It had been a long time since he’d travelled so far, and his nether regions were currently taking it in turns to complain. A good night’s sleep and he’d no doubt be corky. But despite his certainty that a few hours in the arms of Morpheus would cure all his ills, the Reverend wasn’t yet ready to retire to his bed.
He thought back to the journey and his clumsy attempts to guide his granddaughter back towards the path of righteousness. In truth, he’d likely strayed further from the deuced path than she had. Sighing, the Reverend shook his head. He wasn’t sure he was really suited to missionary work, and since their arrival at Caerlaverock he’d felt like a fish out of water. Scotland was so far from Blackmore it might as well have been deuced Africa. Especially since he couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying. Abruptly, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of homesickness so acute, he even found himself missing Agnes’s snoring.
He wondered what Percy was up to. Would Blackmore be running like clockworkdespitethe absence of its vicar orbecauseof it?
Never had Augustus Shackleford felt so uncertain - sounneeded. Had the Almighty abandoned him? Allowed him to take a wrong turn? Of course he might also have had too much cheese at dinner.
Whatever the reason, this would not do. Wallowing in self-pity was for lesser men. There was a reason God had sent him here.He just had to hold fast to that. All would be revealed in good time – the same as always. He’d never been one to abandon ship and there were almost certainly a fair few skirt wearing heathens who’d appreciate his guidance.
The Reverend felt a little better, but he still wasn’t yet ready for his bed. Perhaps he’d write a letter to Percy. That would keep the curate on his toes, just in case he started having ideas above his station. It wouldn’t hurt to remind him that Blackmore’s vicar hadn’t yet abandoned this mortal coil for tea and toast with theAlmighty.
Chapter Five
The next morning dawned cloudy and damp. This, Gifford assured Jennifer was much more usual than the sunny, breezy weather they’d experienced of late. Breakfast was a hearty affair with such outlandish items such astattie sconeswhich were apparently made from potato, andwhite pudding, which to her uneducated eye looked exactly the colour of Peter on the mornings after he’d dipped in too deep at his club.
As she perused the huge choice on offer, Jennifer realised she was famished. Her weariness the night before meant she’d only picked at her dinner and retired almost immediately afterwards. Piling her plate high, she took it over to the table where Peter and Malcolm were chatting with the steward.
‘Ah ken ye’re eager tae meet wi’ Brendon, so ah asked him tae come by thisefternuin, if that suits ye m’lord? This mornin’ I thought mebbe ye’d like tae inspect the hoose.’
