But the birds introduced an unexpected challenge. He had heard of the lady’s charitable acts and knew she preferred privacy. He knew little else about her. Now he knew that she cared about the birds that lived on that rock.
To be sure, that did give him pause. But the project had to go forward.
Sometimes he imagined the baroness to be a formidable older woman; other times, he thought of her as a magnificent, mysterious, beautiful young creature. He rather hoped the latter, but respected the former as well. Whomever she was, he sensed that she liked their little game of wills. Through her lawyers, her responses could be commanding, haughty, plaintive, even witty. But this personal message about the birds tugged at his conscience.
He had a grudging respect and a sincere curiosity about the baroness. He did not care for her lawyers at all and dismissed them out of hand. She was the driving force, that was clear.
Her handwriting intrigued him too, now that he had a note from her. It was not the wobbly hand of an elderly lady, but flowing, feminine, confident, educated. It was the hand of a well-educated woman who might indeed be younger than he had initially thought.
Although she might have a younger companion who wrote her letters. That could be. His elderly Aunt Lillian rarely wroteher own notes these days, dictating letters to his sisters, who lived with her.
If the little handwritten note from the sainted baroness was meant to cajole him, he would not relent. And he told himself that birds would adapt to any changes on their rock, and likely still flourish there. He would tell the lady that.
Smoothing a fresh piece of foolscap, he dipped a pen in ink.
Madam,
I am dismayed that your solicitors did not better inform you. Even as I write this, I am installed in comfortable quarters on Caransay with a view of Sgeir Caran. This evening’s sunset was most spectacular, and the northern lights graced the sky last night. The weather is glorious at the moment.
The wind howled strong enough to rattle the door, and rain gusted against the shutters. Dougal eased his back against the stiff wooden chair and squinted in the oily lamplight.
I appreciate your concern regarding the wild birds on the great rock. I assure you it is not my intention to disturb Nature or to significantly alter that rocky isle.
I have seen gannets and puffins. They seem content even with men arriving on the rock. The stormy petrels are elusive, but that is their nature. I have not yet seen the golden eagles. When I do, I will give them your regards.
He signed the note, sealed the envelope, and dropped it in the mail pouch for Norrie MacNeill to post at Tobermory. He would tell Norrie about the letter for Lady Strathlin. If the lady planned to visit Caransay, Norrie would know, and deliver it directly to her.
Another move on the chessboard. He doused the light and sought his cold cot.
Chapter Five
“Madam,” the housekeepersaid, opening the door to the drawing room, “is something required?”
“Ah, Mrs. Hendry,” Meg said, looking up from the writing table where she sat. A minute earlier, she had tugged at the bell pull, knowing the housekeeper liked her to do that. Although Meg preferred less formality, Mrs. Hendry, keen to maintain a household fit for a baroness, insisted on doing things properly. The woman seemed to enjoy it, so Meg indulged her.
“Mrs. Hendry, please inform Mrs. Berry that I will shortly be ready to go down to the beach with her and Master Sean,” Meg said. Mrs. Berry had enjoyed a few schoolroom duties with Sean whenever she and Meg visited Caransay.
“Very good, madam.” Mrs. Hendry was as tall as any man, wide-shouldered and formidable. Her usual scowling expression was softened by pretty brown eyes and luxurious silver hair. Meg knew Mrs. Hendry had a good heart and wanted everything to be perfect in the household and for the lady and her family when they were there. Otherwise, she spent her time caring for a sickly husband who could no longer fish to support his family. Meg’s heart went out to her, and she appreciated the woman’s steadfast loyalty.
As Hendry closed the door, Meg went back to her task. She wrote a quick note to Mr. Charles Worth in Paris, thanking him for his offer to send an assistant to Edinburgh to fit her gown forthe September soiree. Mr. Worth was eccentric and exacting, but his creations were so elegant and lovely that Meg had traveled to Paris a few times to be fitted for her wardrobe at his shop on the Rue de la Paix. Her companion Angela Shaw, who understood such matters, had advised it. The newest Worth gown promised to be exquisite as the others, judging from the sketches and fabric swatches he had sent.
The next note was from Guy Hamilton, who reported that the Northern Lighthouse Commission had notified the law firm of Dundas and Grant that Mr. Dougal Stewart did indeed have governmental authority to proceed with the lighthouse on Sgeir Caran. Stewart had the right to do the work. Guy assured Meg that they were still looking for a way to stop it, and he reminded her that the engineer was on Caransay and to avoid him.
Too late, she thought. The damage was done.
She answered Guy and sealed it, adding it to the envelopes for Norrie to post when next he ran the boat to Mull.
Then she penned a quick note to her cousin, Roderick Matheson, who had written saying he planned to visit her at Caransay, since he and his mother would visit the isle of Mull nearby.
Oh, dear, she thought. She did not want to see him.The days here are rather dull, and you would not be entertained,she wrote, hoping to discourage him. Truly, he would not enjoy the quiet routine of life on Caransay.
Glancing through the other letters, she found nothing from Dougal Stewart, and felt strangely disappointed. He had not replied to the law firm’s last letter, to which she had added a postscript pleading for the welfare of the birds on the sea rock.
No doubt he was too busy drilling holes in Sgeir Caran to write letters. Through the open window, Meg could see an angle of the sea rock where even now his crew of men were wieldingsledges and drills to alter—and deface, in her opinion—that ancient rock.
For a moment, she was strongly tempted to sail out there, announce her identity, and demand a halt to the construction. Stewart would know the truth, or at least some of it, but it might save the birds, the rock, and the island. But that would not be easy. He had permission from the government, which could prevent what she wanted and bring Stewart what he wanted. And that made her bristle with indignation.
If her past with him became known, she risked genuine ruin, with repercussions that could bring harm and dismay to her family, her island, and her son’s future. She knew that some on the mainland, including bankers on the board, might relish her downfall, as they had never supported the idea of a woman controlling the wealth of her grandfather, Lord Strathlin. If there was another heir, a male, they would be far happier.
