They turned a corner into a broad corridor lined with pictures, and the tall woman’s eyes lit up as she brushed her fingers along the wall.
“Oh, I remember this place,” she said, smiling as she stopped at one of the paintings, a tranquil landscape of green hills and grazing sheep.
Eliza let out an audible gasp of surprise. “You’ve been here before?” she asked.
“Many times,” Iona answered, still gazing at the painting. “My family and the Sinclairs have been allies for generations.” She turned to give Eliza a self-satisfied smile. “My grandfather painted this and gave it as a gift to Duncan’s father. They were great friends. This corridor used to be a gallery where Duncan’s mother had all the family portraits hung.”
“Where are they now?” Eliza asked curiously. “I cannot imagine that Duncan would hide them away. He loves art.”
“He is going to hang them in the Great Hall,” Iona replied. “He told me he was having them all cleaned and reframed. He wants the portrait of his mother to have pride of place. He loved her very much and it’s his favourite picture.”
“You spoke to him recently, then?” Eliza asked, feeling even smaller and more inadequate.
It seemed that she knew very little about Duncan, whereas Iona knew just about everything. Eliza wondered what kind of relationship they had had before she came on the scene.
“Yes, I spoke to him a few weeks ago,” Iona replied, and Eliza detected a trace of smugness in her tone. “We go riding together sometimes.”
They moved along the corridor a little further and Iona suddenly stopped at a door on her left-hand side. “The music room,” she breathed, clapping her hands.“I wonder if the piano is still there?” she asked, pushing the door open.
Her face was a picture of glee as she saw the instrument in the middle of the room. She looked back at Eliza.
“Do you play?” she asked, moving over to the piano and caressing the polished wooden lid with tender fingers.
Eliza shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she replied. “To be honest, I am not very musical.”
In truth, her father had never allowed Eliza or her sisters to learn because he refused to spend good money on a tutor.
“Oh? What do you do to pass the time?” Iona asked.
It was the first time she had made an inquiry about Eliza, since she had only talked about herself and her own affairs up until that moment.
“I sew,” Eliza replied.
“Sew?” Iona frowned. “You make clothes and suchlike?” She failed to hide an expression of faint disgust.
“Yes, and I do needlepoint and embroidery,” Eliza replied. “They are both forms of artwork, and I find that making and designing my own clothes is a useful accomplishment. I am my own modiste.”
This had obviously not occurred to Iona, but it obviously did not impress her. “I prefer music, so I will perform for you later,” she announced. “I love the piano.”
“Would you like tea, ladies?” the taller of the elders asked.
“I would love some!” Iona gushed. “I am absolutely parched.”
“You should have said so,” Eliza said dryly. She had become tired of Iona’s condescending attitude and was finding it hardto hide her annoyance under a mask of civility. “Come to the parlour.”
They walked on a little further, but Eliza left the conversation to Iona and the men so that she had an excuse to be silent. She had only met Iona Drummond a few minutes before and she was already weary of her company. Eliza wondered how long she would be staying, since even five minutes would be too long for her liking.
The four of them sat down in the parlour, and a few moments later tea and scones, smothered with jam and cream arrived. Eliza poured for everyone, ignoring Iona’s expression of disgust because she thought a maid should be performing this menial task, even though she was laughing inwardly. She was briefly tempted to spill hot tea on Iona as she had done with Duncan, but she restrained herself, although she let out a mischievous giggle which earned her a frowning reprimand from the others.
“Is something funny?” Iona asked.
“I was thinking about the first time I met Duncan,” Eliza replied honestly. “I accidentally spilled tea on him.”
To Eliza’s satisfaction, Iona gave a little gasp and drew herself back in her chair.
“Don’t worry,” Eliza assured her. “You are quite safe. I promise.” She could not help a soft little giggle, however.
The two elders glared at her, and Eliza wondered if any of the three of them possessed a sense of humour at all.
