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He gazed at her, his expression enigmatic. ‘Come now, Rachel, you’ll have to do better than that,’ he said softly. Let’s have the truth.'

‘I—it is the truth.’ But she was unable to meet his gaze.

‘I’m sure it is, as far as it goes.’ He leaned forward and took her chin in his hand, turning her face up so that she was forced to look at him. ‘But there’s more. There has to be more.’ His expression now was stem.

Rachel licked her lips. ‘I told you, she was frightened. She could never talk about it before because she felt insecure. But now .....’ She spoke breathlessly. His face was so close that she could feel his breath warm on her cheek.

‘Yes. Now she’s lucky enough to have you.’ His hand left her chin and slid carelessly down her neck before he leaned back in his chair.

‘She really needs the company of other children now. The school at Ardenbeg looks very suitable, Mrs Munroe’s Jeannie goes there, so she would have a friend. She certainly doesn’t need to go to a special school.....’ Rachel knew she was prattling, but she couldn’t help it. Anything was better than letting him know the effect he had on her. And it was getting worse instead of better. Just to be near him.....

‘Melanie’s education is not what we were discussing at the moment.’ She realised he was speaking again. ‘What I am asking for is an explanation of her sudden blossoming into,’ again he hesitated over the word, ‘normality.’

‘Oh, it’s not sudden. It’s been coming for some time.’

‘All right, it’s been coming for some time. But all of a sudden it’s arrived. How? Why? I want to know.’ He was becoming impatient. He shifted in his chair. ‘For a start,
who
took her to the forest trail and then was stupid enough to lose her?'

Rachel bent her head. ‘She told me it was Celia, her mother,’ she said in a low voice.

He nodded. ‘I thought as much. And who else?’

‘What do you mean?’ Rachel pushed her hair back and looked up at him.

‘Exactly what I say. Who else? Which man had my bitch of a wife got with her? Oh,’ seeing the shocked expression on Rachel’s face, ‘do you think I didn’t know? Do you imagine I was that blind?’ He shook his head sadly, ‘but I didn’t think that even Celia would have been callous enough to involve an innocent child.’ He was silent for a moment, staring at his injured hand. 'I named my fishing boat after Celia,’ he mused. ‘And do you know why?’ His face twisted into a bitter smile as he looked up at Rachel.

She shook her head, too shattered to speak.

‘Out of sheer bloody-mindedness, that’s why. And she was furious. She’d never wanted me to have the boat in the first place. The idea of being married to a fisherman simply didn’t have the appeal that being married to a gentleman farmer did—even if the gentleman farmer was only a “yes-man” to his father. She was a terrible snob, my wife. So I called it
Celia
just to spite her. It was aptly named, too, in a way. It attracted the men and it was fickle—just like her. I was glad to be rid of both of them,' Richard finished vehemently.

Rachel stared at him, too shocked to speak. She had never expected such an outburst from Richard Duncan.

‘It could have been any one of a number of men that Melanie saw her with,’ he went on cynically. ‘Maybe she didn’t even know who he was. Yet,’ he frowned, ‘towards the end Celia changed. I think there was someone. She’d even mentioned divorce...

‘Ben Carson?’ Rachel’s voice was barely above a whisper.

He looked at her for a long time and Rachel felt the colour come into her cheeks. ‘No, Rachel,’ he said at last. ‘Whoever it was it wasn’t Ben Carson, so you have no need to worry about that.’ He shrugged. ‘Oh, he may have fancied himself in love with her, but Celia was no Lady Chatterley, amusing herself with the gamekeeper. She liked her men to be rich and distinguished. When my wife sold herself the price was high. The slut!’ His voice was full of loathing and disgust. ‘She married me because I was heir to the biggest estate in the county. But one man was never enough for my wife.’

‘And your reason for marrying her?’ Rachel couldn’t help asking.

‘I was young, flattered by the attentions of a beautiful woman, and a stupid fool. It was the biggest mistake of my life and one I’m never, ever likely to repeat,’ he added forcefully.

So, thought Rachel, that was the reason Moira McLeod’s advances had so far met with no success. It was not that he had been so in love with his wife that no other woman could take her place, but rather that having been taken in by a woman once he was not going to risk the same thing happening again. Once bitten, twice shy. And who could blame him?

He got up to go and she stood up with him.

‘You don’t really need to tell me any more,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I’ve no doubt that I can more or less piece the story together for myself. Celia was a callous creature, with precious little love for the child.’ He gazed at Rachel and his expression softened. ‘I think you have far more love for my daughter than her mother ever had, Rachel,’ he said quietly. He put out his hand and gently touched her cheek, then he shook his head. ‘But there must have been something pretty traumatic to rob her of her speech altogether.’

Rachel bit her lip. ‘If she was told to keep a secret or something awful would happen,’ she said slowly. ‘Then she found that there were so many secrets to keep that she got confused as to what she might speak about and what she might not, she might subconsciously find it safer not to speak at all.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, you could be right, at that.'

‘Then something dreadful does happen—her mother is killed. She wonders if somehow she’s to blame. Had she said something she shouldn’t have? There’s nobody she can confide in, so what does she do? She turns in on herself,' Rachel spoke jerkily, unhappy at having to say these things. ‘That’s how I see it, at any rate.'

‘It sounds very plausible to me.' Richard passed his hand over his face, ‘Thank you for, what shall I say? “unlocking her”, Rachel.’ He smiled his rare smile. ‘I’m sure nobody else could have done it.’ He paused. ‘But now you think it’s time she went to school?’

‘I think it’s time for her to begin to mix with other children. Yes, I think school’s the answer.' Rachel knew she was signing her own death warrant, so to speak, for with Melanie at school and Rose back from her cruise there would be nothing to keep her at Kilfinan House. She would have to return to her home in Suffolk.

He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You’re probably right,’ he said. ‘And no doubt you have plans of your own?’

She looked into the future, bleak without him, at empty years spent teaching other people’s children. Somehow she managed to smile brightly. ‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, ‘I’ve got plans of my own.’

Several
weeks went by. The trees turned from green to brown and the chill autumn mists covered the mountain tops for longer and longer. Letters from Alistair and Rose, telling of hot sunshine, orange groves and grape harvests, contrasted strongly with the roaring log fires that Ben built to cheer the cold Scottish evenings.

Gradually Rachel ceased to be shocked by what Richard had revealed of his feelings towards his wife. But she was puzzled.

Richard had insisted that Celia was not going to Ben Carson that night. Was this true? Was she going to someone else? Or had he simply said that to protect her, Rachel’s feelings, thinking that she and Ben ...? Her face flamed at the memory of Richard’s expression the day he had seen her come out of the bedroom at Rose’s cottage with Ben.

She frowned. Yet if Celia
hadn’t
been going to Ben why should Ben have bothered to cover himself by saying that her car crashed coming
back
from Dunglevin, when everyone else said she was going the other way? The whole affair was a complete mystery, a mystery deepened by the fact the story ‘put about’, as Rose described it, that Celia had been on her way to visit her sick mother was totally untrue; she didn’t even have a mother.

A more sinister suspicion crept into Rachel’s mind. Could Celia Duncan have been lured to her death? Someone who hated her and wanted her out of the way could easily have tampered with the steering on her car. On those treacherous bends on the high road above the loch anything might happen.... But who? Rachel closed her eyes to try and shut out the image that came to her mind. No, surely Richard hadn’t hated his wife enough to do a thing like that!

But even these disturbing thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind by a letter that came from Alistair and Rose. It was from Athens. Richard opened it at the breakfast table and read it through twice without speaking. Then he handed it to Rachel, still without comment.

Rachel began to read Alistair’s neat, carefully looped script. The letter began by describing the scenery and customs of the places they had recently visited, as Alistair’s letter usually did, but then it went on:

‘Rose and I were married this morning, very quietly. You may be surprised at this, but I think probably you will not; we have been friends for such a very long time. We are very happy and wonder now why we have never got round to it before. I hope we shall have many years to enjoy each other’s company. .

‘Which brings me to another point. I think it’s time I handed the reins over to you, Richard. The Estate is less prosperous than it should be, for a number of reasons, but with your vision and drive and a free hand to run it as you choose I’m sure you will make a success of it. I only wish you had a wife to share the responsibilities and joys of it all (Kilfinan House can be a very real joy, I assure you, although it seems a very long time since it was anything but a burden to me. Perhaps I am growing old). But I’m hopeful. I’ve seen small signs that encourage me to think that you are considering remarriage and I would like to say now that your choice has my full approval.

‘But I’m being precipitate. To be more down-to-earth, Rose and I have decided that Arden Lodge, on the far side of the Estate, will suit us very well. It is bigger than Kilfinan Cottage, yet not too big; it is also further away from Kilfinan House, so your activities will not be constantly under my scrutiny—important, I feel, for both our sakes. Rose and I will not be returning home for another month, time enough for Ben to check things over and do any redecorating necessary. Both Rose and I are happy to leave colour schemes etc. to Rachel. She has excellent taste.’ He signed the letter rather formally, ‘Your affectionate father, Alistair Duncan.’

Rachel handed the letter back to Richard, her feelings mixed.

‘He’s right. I’m not really surprised they’ve got married, are you?’ Richard glanced at her as he spoke.

‘No, not really.’ Rachel stirred her coffee thoughtfully. ‘He seems to be assuming rather a lot, though. Of you, I mean.’ She spoke slowly.

‘You mean dumping the Estate on me?’ Richard smiled wryly. ‘Rachel, my father knows me almost as well as I know myself, although we may not appear to be very close. He knows I like nothing better than a challenge. He also knows I need a free hand, so he’s offering me both.’ He traced patterns in the sugar bowl with a spoon. ‘He’s watched me trying to build my fishing business in Ardenbeg, never offering help or advice. It’s been a slow job for me, paying off mortgages, replacing tackle, keeping the boat seaworthy and at the same time trying to make a profit. This year would have been the first really successful season. But,’ he shrugged, ‘there it is. At least we’ll have the insurance money to help put Kilfinan on its feet again.’

‘You’ll miss fishing.’

'I'll still have
Thursday’s Child.
I just shan’t do anything on a commercial basis.’ He got up from his chair. ‘I’m very happy with the way my father has planned everything. I couldn’t have organised it better myself. He’s a shrewd old devil, there’s no doubt about that. He doesn’t miss a trick.’ His eyes rested on her for a moment. ‘At least, not very often.’ He went to the door. ‘Perhaps you’d care to come over to Arden Lodge with me some time and see what needs to be done, these things need a woman’s eye. Then you can talk it over with Ben. You’ll enjoy that.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

He left the room and Rachel remained seated at the table, re-reading Alistair’s letter. The words ‘I’ve seen small signs that encourage me to think you are considering remarriage ..... Your choice has my full approval’ seemed to leap out of the page at her. Yes, of course Alistair would approve; an amalgamation of the Kilfinan Estate with the prosperous McLeod Farm could be nothing but an advantage to the Duncans, and Moira’s hard-headed business acumen was just what was needed. Moira McLeod would make a perfect daughter-in-law as far as Alistair was concerned.

‘You’re very late coming to lessons this morning, Rachel. I’ve been in the playroom simply ages waiting for you.’ Melanie came skipping into the room, her thick hair bouncing and her eyes alight with happiness. She seemed to blossom more with each succeeding day. ‘Look, I’ve been drawing you a picture while I waited.’ She spread a paper on the table in front of Rachel, carefully pushing aside coffee cups, the sugar bowl and marmalade dish to make room. ‘Jeannie says that’s how they sit in school.’ She had drawn her impression of a classroom, crowded with stick-like children, the teacher at the front, an almost recognisable caricature of Rachel with long yellow hair, her arm round a little girl who looked not unlike Melanie herself.

‘Would you like to go to school?’ Rachel asked.

Melanie put her head on one side. ‘Jeannie says it’s fun. They play all sorts of games and do lots of lovely things. I think I’d like it.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, I’d like to go to school with Jeannie. Can I go soon?’

‘Not until you’ve learned to spell a bit better,’ Rachel managed to smile as she spoke. ‘Come on, up to the playroom. Let’s start work!’ She patted Melanie’s bottom to gee her up and followed her up the stairs with a heavy heart. Everything was falling neatly into place, too neatly, in fact. With Rose and Alistair married and moving to Arden Lodge; Richard taking over the running of the estate, married to Moira, a hardheaded business woman as well as a wife; and Melanie safely and happily settled at school, where did that leave her? She sighed. She had come to Glencarrick to recover from the shock of Keith’s death. This she had done. Keith would always have a place in her memory, but the thought of him no longer hurt. So the purpose of her visit fulfilled, surely she should be ready to go home to Suffolk. Yet her heart was even heavier now than when she had arrived, all those months ago. Why? Damn Richard Duncan, she said to herself vehemently. She wished she had never met him.