A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (15 page)

“Red Hawk crew,” Greyston cut in. “He joined us in Edinburgh.”

“Speaking of your crew, will they be taking lunch with us?” Jean
asked. “We’ve only got leek broth, but it will stretch with plenty of freshly
baked bread.”

Greyston shook his head. “Jamie’s taking the Red Hawk back to
Edinburgh, but I hope they’ll return by evening.”

As soon as Jean left to organise some refreshments for them, Evelyn
turned on Greyston. “Red Hawk crew?”

“Considering you arrived in an airship with no carriage in sight,”
Greyston pointed out, “it would appear odd that your driver’s tagging along
with you.”

Lily couldn’t contain a small giggle. “Is that a twitch of propriety I
see on your brow?”

Greyston shrugged. “I’m not opposed to propriety when it’s efficient.”

She rather thought it had more to do with Jean than efficiency, which
made her think she’d been right about Jean’s welcome hug. But Greyston had
blocked her firmly with those folded arms, and he hadn’t lived in Scotland
since he’d turned fifteen. He hadn’t only run from Cragloden after that gas
explosion, he’d run from his home and family. And, it would seem, he was still
running even now that he’d returned.

Chapter Eleven

O
ver
lunch, taken in the formal dining room at a table large enough to seat sixteen,
Greyston informed them of his intention to ride for Cragloden directly.

Lily glanced up from spreading butter on a thick slice of warm bread
and met his gaze. She had no wish to visit the place that had become the bane
of her past, present and imminent future, but how could she avoid it? She was
beginning to understand what had driven Greyston to return after so many years
to hunt for answers, and he believed they were to be found there. “I’m going
with you.”

“Do you ride astride?” He raised a brow at her. “Forleough’s not
equipped with side-saddles and such things.”

“There are many things I’ve never done until recently,” she riposted
dryly. In deference to William’s newly imposed, temporary status as Red Hawk
crew, Greyston had insisted he join them around the table. Taking her midday
meal with a servant, she rather thought, established her point. “I’ll manage.”

“We could all do with some exercise after that long train journey,”
Evelyn said, including William in her glance around the table. “We’re coming
too.”

“We only have three horses at our disposal.”

“Oh, dear.” She gave William a crumpled smile. “It looks like you’ll
be staying behind.”

“So will you,” Greyston told her firmly. “The third horse is for
Neco.”

“Ah, well,” Evelyn said in good grace. “Then I’m sure William and I
can find some mischief to get ourselves into.”

“I’ve no doubt of that.” He looked at her for a moment longer, as if
he might say something more, but merely turned to Lily as he made his excuses
and pushed up from the table. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we need to depart
as soon as possible, else we’ll be riding back in the dark.”

Lily quickly swallowed her mouthful of bread and stood. “I must change
but I won’t be long,” she assured him, then turned to Evelyn. “Will you come up
with me? I need to ask you something.”

“You’re a superb horsewoman,” Evelyn said as she followed Lily from
the dining room and up the stairs to the sleeping quarters. “You’ll do fine.
Just remember to clamp your knees against the horse’s flanks and you’ll find
the rhythm soon enough.”

“Thanks for the advice, but what I actually wanted to ask…” Lily
paused at the top of the stairs to face Evelyn. She dropped her voice. “Did you
happen to bring that bloomer outfit of yours with you? The one you got from New
York?”

Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “You wouldn’t really consider wearing it?”

“It’s that or pull my skirts up around my thighs,” Lily hissed,
feeling a hot blush creep over her throat. “Besides, I don’t intend to remove
my coat.”

“You are being serious.” Long seconds passed as Evelyn looked at her,
the gaiety fading beneath a frown. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Lily started forward again, her fingers trailing
on the banister that wound along the upper landing. “I’ve just finally realised
how impractical women’s fashion is.”

“Because on any other day you’d be more likely to point out how
impractical riding astride is,” Evelyn said softly from behind. “You’ve been
through so much in the last couple of days, what with that crazy ostrich lady
murdering someone right in front of you and now chasing after you.”

Not to mention dying.

“And now you’re on your way to the very place your mother died, Lily,
and thanks to Forleough’s pishy stable, I can’t even go with you.”

The same place where I should have died six years ago, along with
everyone else.
She hadn’t mentioned the other children, the celludrones, or
anything else Greyston had told her. Her feelings were too chaotic—too raw—to
put in any coherent conversation.

She reached the door to Evelyn’s appointed bedroom and, hand on the
knob, glanced over her shoulder to find concern etched on her friend’s face.

“You think I’m having a mental collapse,” Lily suddenly realised.

“I
think
too much is happening too fast.”

“I’m fine.” She gave Evelyn a reassuring smile and pushed the door
open. “And quite honestly, Evie, even if I wasn’t, there isn’t time to fix me
right now. Greyston’s waiting and he becomes completely boorish when he’s in a
rush.”

Ana, who was serving as lady’s maid to them both, was already inside,
bent double over a large trunk. Lily hadn’t been inside this room before, but a
quick glance showed it was similar to the one she’d been appointed a few doors
down the landing. An oriental rug patterned in dark blues and olive greens
covered most of the floor with a narrow rim of stone peeping out along the
walls. The absence of fireplaces in each bedroom might signify that modern
heating had been implemented throughout the house, although Lily doubted it.
The drapes were heavy and also dark in colour, the furnishings sparse but
sufficient to one’s basic requirements. The only compromise was the fluffy
quilt spread over the bed that was a patchwork of creams and pale pinks.

“Have you unpacked my ruby velvet riding habit yet?” Evelyn called to
Ana.

“Yes, m’lady.” Ana straightened, bringing a flimsy creation of pink
satin and lace up with her. “I’ve put it in the wardrobe.”

“If you were as fine as you’d like me to believe,” Evelyn threw out to
Lily as she crossed to the walnut wardrobe, “you’d recall I only ride
side-saddle under duress and I’m far more likely to have brought a perfectly
suitable riding habit with me than a bloomer suit.” She delved inside and came
back with her arms full of heavy velvet and a satisfied smile. “Sometimes, the
most extreme solution isn’t the only, or, indeed, the best solution.”

“I might have panicked and overreacted,” Lily was willing to concede
with considerable relief at Evelyn’s alternative. She reached behind to fiddle
with the pearl button at the nape of her high collar. “Ana, please help me
undress. I’m riding for Cragloden Castle with Greyston and there isn’t a moment
to spare.”

The riding habit had a separate skirt and tight jacket—although less
tight on her chest than Evelyn’s—that buttoned straight over her corset.
Beneath the split skirt, individual petticoat panels overlapped to give freedom
of movement without compromising modesty. Lily was a couple of inches taller
than Evelyn and an indecent amount of silk stocking showed between the hem and
the top of her short boots.

She shrugged off the shocking display of leg with blithe disregard on
her way out the room. Which, she admitted as she descended the stairs, was not
like her at all. But if Evelyn was right, if she was acting out of character,
perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing either at this particular junction in her
life.

They rode hard for close on half an hour, keeping to the rutted road
that followed the bends of the Firth of Tay. Greyston had failed to mention
that all three the horses were stallions, the smallest one standing at least
seventeen hands high.

Lily had gritted her teeth, tied the ribbons of her bonnet firmly
beneath her chin, clamped her knees in tight, and soon discovered Evelyn’s
advice had been apt. Within a few miles she’d found her natural rhythm and was
thoroughly enjoying the sensation of rider and horse being as one as she leaned
low over the stallion’s long neck. Greyston led the way and Neco brought up the
rear. A cool breeze channelled in from the ocean, bringing relief from the
afternoon heat and general exertion of the fast ride.

The Tay widened considerably as they approached the headland. The
terrain grew more rocky, desolate, with straggly bush and dry grass. To their
left sloped the beginnings of a mountain that dipped and rose in a series of
peaks that stretched seaward and looked to drop abruptly into a sheer cliff on
the other side.

Greyston slowed to a trot as the road curved inward from the bank of
the Tay around a soggy marshland. He pointed at a dark smudge with symmetrical
edges halfway up the furthest slope. “That’s Cragloden Castle.”

They were still trotting slower around the bog, permitting
conversation for the first time since leaving Forleough. Lily stared at the
distant slope until her vision focussed. “I thought the castle had been reduced
to ruins in the explosion.”

“The original castle was,” Neco called out from the rear.

“A new manor house was built some time in the last six years,”
Greyston informed her.

“By who?”

Greyston shrugged. “The McAllister clan are large and powerful.
There’s no shortage of lairds and heirs and money.”

“Do you suppose the current owner would have been privy to Duncan
McAllister’s activities?”

“When I stopped by a few weeks ago, before I left for London, he
wasn’t in residence and the steward’s lips were tighter than a nun’s…” he slid
a grimace her way “…lips.”

“But you do think he’ll know something?” Lily pressed.

“I’m not familiar with the McAllister family dynamics, Lily, but I’d
rather he continues to stay away.” Greyston’s grin came out. “In fact, I’m
counting on it.”

She scowled at him. “What are you planning?”

Greyston grinned harder and spurred his stallion into a full-on
gallop.

“Well,” she muttered to herself, somewhat inclined to stall the riding
party and force him to turn around and explain. But Neco’s horse was nudging
her from behind, so she dug her knees in and followed. She settled into her
seat with the faster gait, her thoughts drifting to her mother and the
circumstances of her own birth. She was no longer entirely convinced her father
wasn’t indeed her father. As Evelyn had indicated over the
bloomer
incident, perhaps she’d become prone to reaching extreme conclusions when a
rather simpler explanation would do.

But for the life of her, Lily couldn’t think of a single explanation
of how she’d become entangled with the McAllisters and what had led to her
mother’s death.

The road took them straight through a bustling port town nestled
between the base of the mountain and the Tay basin. A number of trawlers were
berthed at the docks and the remnants left in the square they passed through
suggested a fish market had recently been packed up for the day. Near the docks,
a business district with warehouses, shops and official buildings was hobbled
together in a hopscotch fashion.

Lily’s gaze passed over the postmaster’s office and she wished she’d
penned another letter for her aunt. The note she’d scribbled just before leaving
Harchings House, explaining that she and Evelyn had adjourned to Scotland for a
brief stay with respectable friends of Evelyn’s family, wouldn’t do for much
longer. Not once Devon’s attention turned to her aunt in his hunt for his
missing wife.

They left the town and the leeward slope of the cliff that formed the
final peak of the mountain was suddenly upon them. The road followed up the
mountain for another mile or so, ending at imposing wrought iron gates wedged
into the perimeter wall of the castle and bounded on both sides by small
towers.

The structure of Cragloden was easily recognisable now, the new manor
house a rectangular pile of light grey stone slabs. Further up the slope, a
narrow band of pine forest divided the main house from a large walled enclosure
that didn’t appear to be enclosing anything. The entire spread was circled by a
massive perimeter wall that climbed nearly all the way to the top of the slope,
engulfing extensive land of shrubs and forest beyond the buildings.

They veered off the road and across a field of tangled gorse and
heather, heading for a dense copse of firs packed close to the east perimeter
wall. Once they reached the cover, Greyston and Neco dismounted. While they
tethered their horses to a low-hanging bough, Lily prepared for her own
dismount. She stood in the saddle, putting all her weight on her right leg. The
split skirt and individual petticoat panels easily allowed her to bend her
right leg at the knee and angle it over the saddle. All this was very inelegant
and required extraordinary balance, but she wasn’t sure how else to accomplish
the necessary.

Greyston turned to her, but Neco was already striding over to assist
her down, so he turned back to delve inside his saddlebags.

When the celludrone stood before her, his eyes were level with her
chest—although his gaze wasn’t aimed there. He was looking up into her eyes.
“Put your hands on my shoulders, m’lady.”

Lily did as she was told, and wasn’t surprised to find his shoulders
felt like a slab of iron. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with
him. Neco was simply too large, too tall, too strong, and much more freely
minded in his opinions and actions than she was accustomed to. The latter of
which came, she supposed, from him being exposed to a far greater world than
Ana, who’d been kept mainly secluded in Lily’s household. He was simply far too
human, had watched, seen, heard and learnt too much, and with that surely came
human weaknesses without the actual human…well, weakness.