by Rhys Bowen
“What if it was deliberately set by someone with a grudge against us?”
He gave me a startled look. “Now who would ever do a thing like that?”
“I understand that a boy called Willie McDonald was let go recently. Have you spoken with him?”
“You’d have a job speaking with him, my lady. He went off and joined the Royal Navy. He said that leaving the estate was the best thing that ever happened to him and now he was free to see the world.”
“Good for him,” I said. Back to square one.
Chapter 14
Beside a loch in Scotland
August 18
Weather brisk (which is Scottish terminology
for blowing a howling gale).
We ate our picnic in the shade of a large Scots pine tree. My mother returned from visiting Binky up at Castle Rannoch and came to join us as the picnic was being set up.
“How utterly beastly for poor Binky,” she said. “He looks awfully pale. I suggested he go to my little pied-à-terre on the Riviera to recuperate but he claims he has no money to travel.”
“That’s true. He doesn’t,” I said. “Father saddled him with enormous death duties.”
“Typical of your father,” she said. “Utterly useless and never thought about anyone but himself. If he’d truly adored me, I would have stayed, but he preferred all those horrible outdoor sports, like shooting and fishing, to staying home and amusing me.” She broke off and touched my arm. “Who is the rather divine-looking blond boy?”
“That? His name is Huge Beasley-Bottome.”
My mother burst out laughing. “What an unfortunate name. So tell me about him.”
“He seems to be a sponger. He was with the motorboat party and now he’s invited himself to Castle Rannoch.”
“So no money then?”
“Not your type at all,” I said. “Decades too young and penniless, I suspect.”
“But darling as one ages, one likes them young. So good for the ego, even though they’ve no staying power at that age.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked at me strangely. “They go off like rockets, darling. Really, didn’t I manage to give you the slightest hint of the facts of life when you were growing up?”
“You were never there,” I said. “My education was hopelessly lacking. I didn’t even manage to find a friendly gamekeeper.”
She laughed again. “You’d better make up for lost time, hadn’t you? Isn’t there a likely male in the picture?”
“Not at the moment,” I said, glancing around to see if Darcy was still anywhere around, but he and the señorita had disappeared.
“Too bad. I expect you’ll find one soon,” my mother said languidly, her gaze moving to Hugo as she spoke. “I might as well join you for lunch.”
“You can’t afford to make Max jealous, can you?” I said. “Think of all those lovely Parisian gowns.”
“When Max is talking about engines, he wouldn’t notice if a zeppelin dropped on his head.” She lowered herself onto the best rug and stretched out luxuriantly. “So what are we eating?” she said. “Don’t tell me that Mrs. McPherson has made pasties.”
The Americans eyed her with suspicion.
“Don’t mind little moi,” she said, waving a gracious hand in their direction. “I eat like a sparrow.”
“Pardon me, but I don’t think we’ve met.” Babe lowered herself to the rug beside my mother.
“My mother, the former Duchess of Rannoch,” I said hastily, and saw Mummy frown. She hated to admit she had a daughter of my age.
“And you were the famous actress Claire Daniels, weren’t you?” Countess Von Sauer exclaimed.
“Once upon a time I suppose I had my modicum of fame,” Mother said with brilliantly pretended humility.
Of course, after that she was the center of attention.
Unfortunately the wind had come up and was blowing dust and pine needles onto the food, while the speed racers were testing their engine, emitting the occasional loud roar that jangled all our nerves and made conversation difficult. Mother, of course, made herself the center of attention instantly. She turned the full force of her dazzling charm onto Hugo so that he was transformed into her lap dog. I even began to feel a little sorry for him. As for the Americans, it was as if they were in the presence of a visiting goddess, which I suppose she was.
I sat on the two inches of blanket my mother was not occupying, staring out across the lake, simply not able to get into the swing of their conversation. Too many worrying thoughts were buzzing around my head. These thoughts ranged from Sir Jeremy’s mandate to Binky’s trap to Darcy and the mysterious dark woman. What was I supposed to do about any of the above? And why was I supposed to step in and rescue other people when nobody seemed to show any interest in me whatsoever? I was looking along the edge of the lake—I suppose that subconsciously I was trying to catch a glimpse of Darcy and see if he’d actually gone off with that Conchita woman—when I sat up, suddenly alert. Someone was creeping through the stand of fir trees on the point behind us. I watched as the figure darted from tree to tree, obviously not wanting to be seen. And he was coming closer. Thoughts of the trap and the reported accidents to the royal heirs instantly flashed across my mind.
Suddenly I’d had enough. If this person was cowardly enough to plan horrid little accidents and set a trap for my brother, then I was going to put a stop to him right now. I stood up and started to wander apparently aimlessly, bending to pick a sprig of heather here and there, but all the time making my way closer to those trees. When I was close enough, I darted behind the nearest pine then moved from tree to tree, just as our stalker was doing. I caught sight of him again as he crept through deep shadow to the next large pine.
Right, my lad, I thought. He was making quite a bit of noise. He would have been useless stalking a deer. I, in contrast, moved silently. He had no idea I was behind him until I leaped out and pounced.
“Got you!” I shouted, grabbing at the collar of his jacket. “All right. Let’s take a look at you then, you miserable specimen.” In truth I was rather relieved to find that he was a miserable specimen. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d leaped out on a hulking six-footer armed with a gun or knife. As it was he gave a little squeak, tried to flee and was yanked backward by me, almost sitting down in the process.
“The constable’s just up there on the bank,” I said. “He’ll be here in two seconds if I call him, so you’d better confess.”
“My dear young lady, I’ve done nothing wrong. Unhand me, I beg you,” he said. I recognized the voice at the same moment I staggered with him into a patch of sunlight.
“Mr. Beverley!” I said in a shocked tone. “What were you up to?”
“Your ladyship! Nothing, I assure you nothing at all,” he said, most flustered now as I released my hold on him. “I was just trying to—well, you know, it’s silly really, but I have always had a crush, as it were, on your dear mother. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw she was here. So I was seizing the chance to get a little closer to her, that’s all.”
“You were spying on her. You were going to eavesdrop and then reveal all in your column. I know how you news papermen work.”
“Oh no, I assure you.”
“You do run a gossip column, don’t you?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“So you were just doing your job and going to report gossip.”
He looked red faced and crestfallen now, like a deflated balloon. “Well, I do have to confess . . .”
“You’re very lucky I don’t turn you in to our police constable,” I said. “I could, you know. Someone has been setting traps on our estate. You could well be a prime suspect.”
“Oh no. I’d never do anything violent,” he said, fluttering his hands in distress. “You know I abhor violence.”
“Very well,” I said. “I’ll let it go, just this once, but if I catch you spying on us again, then I will have no qualms about turni
ng you over to our constable.”
“I don’t suppose there is any chance, is there, that I might just be allowed to greet your divine mama? I’ve worshipped her from afar for so long now.” He gazed at me hopefully, like a dog begging to be taken on a walk.
I looked over at the rugs where my mother was still holding court. “Why not?” I said. I took him by the hand and led him across to our group.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet one of your biggest fans,” I said. She deserved a little punishment for the way she ignored her only daughter.
Godfrey Beverley stepped forward, bowing like a medieval vassal. “Such an honor, Your Grace—well, I know it’s not really ‘Your Grace’ any longer, but I still think of you as nobility, you know.”
“Indeed.” Mother’s mouth was set in a firm line. “How do you do? Mr. Beverley, isn’t it?”
“You remembered. How flattering.”
“How could I forget? All those witty little columns . . .”
I moved off, leaving them to it. A few moments later Mummy showed up at my side again, looking absolutely furious. “How could you desert me and leave me with that odious little man?” she demanded.
“Oh, Mummy, I’m sure he’s harmless. He said he was completely infatuated with you. So I thought I’d make his day and bring him to meet you.”
“Oh, you’ve made his day, all right,” she said. “And as for harmless, he’s one of the most vicious little serpents I’ve ever come across. He just loves to unearth nasty snippets of gossip about me to put in his column. And you know what the next one will be, don’t you?”
When I didn’t respond she went on. “He had somehow found out that we were staying at Balmoral and he said wasn’t it amazing how broad-minded and modern the royal couple had become, allowing us to live in sin under their roof, as it were? Insufferable little smarmy prig. I could kill him.”
I should point out that under moments of extreme stress my mother reverts to type, and she did have a grandmother who sold fish in the market.
“He’s probably watching from the bushes,” I said, trying not to smile. “Don’t let him see that he’s upset you.”
“That’s probably what he does for sexual thrills—watches from the bushes,” she snapped. “He’s certainly never been near a woman in his life, or a man either. I bet he does nee dlepoint in his spare time.”
I could see that she was really riled. “Why don’t you come back to the castle for some tea?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m sure I’m getting a migraine after that encounter. I really do need to lie down or I’ll look like an old hag by dinner.” She returned to our party to announce her departure, but it seemed that everyone was restless by this time and wanted to go back to the castle. Maybe the strength of the wind and the blowing dust had become too much for them. The mechanics working on the boat were busy covering it in a tarpaulin, and Gussie came down the dock to us.
“They can’t do any more today with this gale blowing,” he said. “They might end up with dirt in the engine.”
I didn’t like to tell him that this wasn’t a gale, just a normal afternoon breeze for our part of Scotland, where the strong westerlies from the Hebrides are funneled through a gap in the Grampians. I wondered why they had picked our particular loch for their speed trials. It wasn’t calm at the best of times.
“I tell you what,” my mother said, looking around at her adoring fan club, which by now included Hugo. “Why don’t we all come up to Castle Rannoch to join you for dinner tonight? I’m sure there will be plenty of food. There always is and I know it would cheer up Binky to see old friends. Maybe we can have him carried down to dinner.”
Everyone seemed to think this was a good idea. I was just trying to picture Fig’s face when she found that at least half a dozen more people would be descending on us. I dragged Mother aside. “Why on earth did you suggest this? You know what Fig’s like. She’ll have hysterics.”
Mummy smiled. “Precisely. That will teach her to be rude to me,” she said.
“When?”
“Earlier today. When I arrived at the castle I met her coming down the stairs and she asked me in extremely uncivil tones what I wanted. I reminded her I used to be Binky’s mother and do you know what she said? ‘Yes, but not for long, was it?’ What a spiteful tongue that woman has. She deserves an unexpected dinner party.”
“It’s all right for you,” I said. “You’re not the one who has to break the news to her.”
She chuckled. “Think of poor Binky. He desperately needs cheering up.”
“I don’t know if the sight of more people eating his food will do the trick,” I had begun to say, when the sound of an engine made us turn around.
“I thought they’d finished with that bloody boat,” my mother said, then realized that the sound was not coming from there. Suddenly a small plane appeared, approaching low through the gap in the mountains. It roared over our heads, almost clipped the top of the tallest pines, skimmed over the surface of the lake, bounced a few times then touched down, sending out a sheet of spray behind it.
“Good-o. Ronny’s here,” Hugo exclaimed, my mother clearly having been discarded for the moment.
I was amazed to see that Ronny’s aeroplane, if it was indeed the same one, now had floats instead of wheels.
As we watched Ronny’s plane come to a halt, the countess gave a sudden scream. “Look. The monster!”
Excitement broke out on the shore as great black ripples came toward us. People tried to flee, knocking others out of their way in their fear. Then Constable Herries’s voice came loud and clear.
“That’s no monster. It’s just the way the wind comes down from the pass and creates a particular series of waves. It’s blowing extra hard this afternoon. We’ve seen it before and I expect we’ll see it again. Now everyone calm down and go home. Monster indeed. There’s no monster in this loch.”
The crowd dispersed, muttering excitedly. Some were convinced they’d seen a head rise from that wave. I wasn’t sure I hadn’t seen something myself. Babe and the countess twittered as they were herded back to the cars.
“What if it comes on land? What if it swallows up that boat?” the countess said. “Fritzi darling, I expect you to protect me.”
Her son didn’t look as if he relished the prospect of fending off a large monster.
“I think we should sacrifice Lady Georgiana to appease it,” Hugo said. The laugh broke the tension, but I sat in the car with my cheeks bright red. Was it so obvious to the world that I was still a virgin?
Chapter 15
Back at Castle Rannoch
August 18
Late afternoon.
As I had predicted, Fig did not take the news of the extra dinner guests with great enthusiasm.
“How many people, did you say?” she demanded, her voice close to a shriek. Clearly she had never had a governess to constantly remind her that a lady never raises her voice. “Coming here? Tonight? Why in God’s name didn’t you stop them?”
“How could I stop them without looking terribly petty or telling them we currently had the Black Death?” I said. “They decided among themselves that they were enjoying each other’s company so much that they’d all like to dine together.”
“Then let them all dine together somewhere else,” she snapped.
“But they wanted to cheer up Binky,” I said. “They suggested he be carried down to join us.”
“It’s those blasted Americans, isn’t it?” (I had tactfully forgotten to mention that the idea was entirely my mother’s.) “They act as if they own the place. That Babe creature actually gave Hamilton a lecture about the lack of hot water this morning. She said it wasn’t good enough. Not good enough? I ask you. The nerve of it. That woman spends all too much time in the bathroom, if you ask me. It’s not healthy.”
Fig was clearly in a state now.
“It will be all right,” I said. “I’m sure Cook can whip up a big hearty soup or something as a fir
st course to fill them up.”
“Would you go and tell her, Georgiana? I really don’t think that I can face her at the moment.”
“If you like,” I said, having been a real favorite of Cook’s during my childhood.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said yet again. Wonders would never cease.
As I had suspected, Cook took the news more calmly than my sister-in-law had done, but she clearly wasn’t pleased. “Eight more for dinner, you say? What does Her Grace think I am, a miracle worker? A conjurer? I’m supposed to produce a few rabbits out of a hat?”
I gave a sympathetic smile.
“She barely gives me enough money to feed the regular household and now I’m supposed to whip up banquets out of thin air?”
“Just do your best, Mrs. McPherson,” I said. “They’ll realize that this is all very last minute and they can’t expect haute cuisine.”
“It would never have been haute cuisine at the best of times,” she said dourly. “Good plain food, that’s what I do. None of this fancy French muck—snails covered in garlic.” She made a disgusted face. “What’s wrong with good local beef and Scottish salmon fresh from the stream?”
“Nothing at all,” I said. “You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. McPherson. Everybody says so.”
“Och, get away with you.” She gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Well, it will have to be neeps and tatties for them tonight. I’ve nothing else.”
“Neeps and tatties?” I asked. She was referring to the Scottish peasant dish made with potatoes and turnips. Filling but not exactly elegant.
“Aye. Like I said, I’m no miracle worker. That roast should be big enough for a slice or two each but we’ll need to fill them up somehow. Do them good. They can sample our traditional Scottish fare. And lucky for you I made a nice rich broth with that leftover lamb from the other night. I can thicken that up into a soup. I don’t know about the fish course, though. It’s too late for the fishmonger to deliver anything. I can’t divide loaves and fishes meant for twelve and make enough for twenty.”