Waking the Princess (17 page)

"The house is beautiful," Christina said. "Quite unique. It must be a wonderful place to live." Beside her, John murmured his agreement.

"Only Cousin Aedan lives here now, though we visit often," Amy said. "Eventually he will marry and the house will be busy again, I hope."

"I'm sure he will," Christina commented, wondering if Amy were interested in the position herself. "Thank you for showing us the house, Miss Stewart. And Lady Strathlin—so kind of you to take the time. I know you must be anxious to return to your children at Balmossie."

"Their nurse takes very good care of them. I'm planning to go back after tea. And please call me Meg—the other makes me sound so stuffy." She smiled.

"And of course, it's Amy," Aedan's cousin added.

Christina smiled her thanks and offered her first name to both young women.

"Are your plans for the mural proceeding, Mr. Blackburn?" Meg asked, for John had paused to look at a Scottish landscape painting in the foyer.

"I've been sketching ideas for the program, and I hope to begin some painting soon," he replied.

"Wonderful!" Amy smiled, spreading her hands on her blue crinolined skirt as she glided toward the main staircase. "Come with me, if you please. There is something I want to show you upstairs, on the uppermost floor."

They climbed to a landing that split in two directions to lead to the dining room and drawing room on one side and the billiard and breakfast rooms on the other. Christina knew now that the rest of the rooms in the central tower section were bedrooms. Amy and Meg then led them upstairs to the highest level, where they had not gone earlier.

Throughout the house, dim hallways were brightened by wood wainscoting and vibrant walls in salmon pink or ochre. Paintings glowed in lamplight, as did neat rows of weapons—shields, swords, axes, and halberds glittered overhead.

"That sword up there was used by Robert the Bruce." Amy indicated a longsword with a worn leather hilt. "And that small dagger is said to have belonged to MacBeth himself. Those two swords were lost by English knights at the battle of Stirling. The long axe over there belonged to Rob Roy MacGregor."

"Dundrennan is a sort of museum," Christina said.

"In a way," Meg said. "Sir Hugh catalogued much of the collection before he died, and he discussed the provenance and value of several pieces with Sir Edgar from the National Museum. There was some discussion of buying the collection, but Aedan refuses to consider it."

"The sale of a few pieces would ease the cost of the repairs and refurbishments," Amy said. "I wish Aedan would reconsider. We do not need all these old weapons. Some of them are quite vile." She wrinkled her nose. "One of the swords still has blood on it."

"I'm sure Mrs. Blackburn is aware of the museum's interest," Meg said.

"I know little about it," Christina replied. "Such dealings are kept private. I am merely a Lady Associate of the Society of Antiquaries, although I do some research and other work for Sir Edgar."

"We're grateful for the good fortune that brought you both here," Meg said, and she smiled.

They reached the uppermost hallway, where Amy opened a door. "This is the long gallery. Once it was used as a schoolroom, but no one uses it now. Sir Aedan thought that you might like to use it for an artist's studio, Mr. Blackburn."

"This would be excellent," John said when they entered. The long gallery was a huge room with whitewashed walls and dark wood floors. Rainy daylight streamed silvery through the windows. Sparsely furnished with a cupboard, bench, long table, and hard chairs, it looked like the schoolroom it once had been.

"The light is good, and from the north, clear and even," John said. "And that huge table is ideal, since I'll be working on very large sketches for the wall."

"Then it is yours for the duration," Amy said, handing him a key. "My cousin said you will be going to Edinburgh for a day or two to fetch some supplies."

"Yes, I'll leave tomorrow and return shortly with trunks full of paint and so on, even some costumes and props."

"Oh, costumes! It sounds like great fun!" Amy said as they all left the room together.

"I hope so. Does that lead out to the roof?" John asked as they passed a door at the far end of the hall, where there seemed to be no space for another room.

"Yes, come and look," Amy said. "The view is marvelous." She opened the stout door and led them into the cool, damp air on the balaustraded roof. "Centuries ago, sentinels would post up here. There is an overhang, so our gowns will not get wet."

Christina smiled, feeling the clean kiss of the wind on her face and stirring her skirts. Rain pattered the stone wall walk and half walls.

Dundrennan's policies extended in all directions, miles of heathery hills, golden meadows, and thick forest, the whole softened by mist. The arches of the Remembrance, the medieval monument beyond the orchard, thrust upward.

"That's so beautiful," she said, feeling a powerful urge to see the romantic old monument to a lost princess. "I wish we could go see it."

"The Remembrance is a gloomy place, especially in the rain," Amy said. "I think it's eerie and morbid. It should be closed off. Not even the lairds of Dundrennan will go there."

"It's romantic and picturesque," Christina said.

"I agree." Meg glanced at the drizzling skies. "Oh, more rain starting. Shall we go inside? It's nearly time for tea, and Aunt Lillias will be expecting us. And Thistle, I suppose."

"This may be Miss Thistle's last tea at Dundrennan for a while," Amy said. "Cousin Aedan thinks the paint fumes could disturb the beastie's health, and suggested to Aunt Lillias that she keep Thistle at home in the conservatory. May we be so fortunate as to be without her company," she added.

Laughing, John opened the door for the ladies and made a quiet comment that set Amy to giggling.

At teatime, Miss Thistle's antics left Christina convinced that Aedan was wise to urge Lady Balmossie to take the monkey home. By the time they had finished tea, two saucers and a teacup lay broken on the carpet, a plum cake had been smashed on a footstool, and Lady Balmossie wore a shortbread biscuit on top of her lace cap until Christina plucked it free.

For some reason, Miss Thistle clung to Christina with utmost affection, pausing only to fire crockery at family members or at the door each time it was opened. Thistle's attachment to Christina made John laugh, and even Amy, who disliked the creature, giggled with delight.

"Sir Hugh always said Thistle had a keen eye for good people," Lady Balmossie said. "We must tell Aedan that she's approved Mrs. Blackburn. Where is Aedan today?"

No one knew, and when Christina realized that she watched the door closely, she turned away. He did not come to tea, and his kinswomen surmised that he was busy with his roadwork, although rain generally halted much progress, they explained.

After tea, Christina sat in her room, reading and writing a few letters, then fell asleep, dozing so deeply that she did not wake until she heard a persistent knocking at the door.

"Ye slept through supper, mistress." Sonsie Jean carried a silver tray with covered dishes as she entered the room. "Mrs. Gunn sent me to bring ye soup, toast, and tea. She told Sir Aedan ye was tired, puir lassie, but she thought a bowl o' Scotch broth would restore ye."

"Thank you, Muriel," Christina said, recalling Aedan's considerate use of the girl's real name. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the little mantel clock, astonished that she had slept so long. Muriel set the tray in the sitting room, and Christina tasted the soup while the serving girl poured tea for her.

"Och, I nearly forgot, mistress. Sir Aedan said to tell ye that the lamps will be lit in the library tonight, d'ye want to work there on yer books and such. He might be there himself, he said, but he'd have work to do and wouldna disturb ye."

Her heart raced. "Thank you." Muriel nodded and left.

After finishing her meal, Christina combed her hair with trembling fingers, then smoothed her simple gown of dark green brocade, taking time to put on her sturdy brogans.

She might read for a little while in the library, and perhaps, if the weather permitted, she would stroll in the gardens. She was curious to see them, and the thought of the old monument in moonlight piqued her curiosity. Adding a lightweight tartan shawl, she descended the narrow stair to the library, taking care to go slowly. This time, unlike her last calamitous venture down the old steps, lamps in the wall recesses illuminated the way.

The laird had said the lamps would be lit for her. She wondered if he would be there himself. Her hand shook as she pulled on the door latch leading into the library.

Entering to discover herself alone, quelling the disappointment she felt, she chose a few books from the shelves. Then she found a comfortable chair in a quiet niche and settled down to read.

* * *

She was there, just as he had hoped. Golden lamplight pooled over Christina as she sat in a leather chair, her head bowed over a book and her feet curled beneath the folds of her skirt. She looked more like an adolescent girl than the seductive woman in the painting of the briar princess.

Yet when she glanced up at Aedan's approach, her simple, natural beauty was more alluring than any image. Her eyes were wide behind her little spectacles, her mouth a small moue as she closed her book at the sight of him and sat primly. Her shoes were brogans, he saw, not the slippers of the other night.

She would not lose her balance in those sensible things, he thought. While that was reassuring, he would have enjoyed another chance to catch her.

"Sir Aedan! I did not expect to see anyone here so late."

"Mrs. Blackburn. I came to check on the last things."

"The what?" She looked puzzled.

"Last things for the evening," he explained. "Or so we call it here. I take care of the lamps, the doors, check the hearths, make sure the dogs are all in for the night, and so on."

"One of the dogs is there, asleep." She indicated a corner under the gallery, where a white terrier lay curled on a worn leather chair. "She has been a sweet companion while I've been sitting here, though she was asleep most of that time."

He smiled, gazing at the dog, who had scarcely lifted her head at his entry, so familiar was she with the rhythm of his step and the sound of his voice. "That chair she's in was my father's favorite spot for reading. Gracie was his devoted pup and has not forgotten him. We let her sleep there now—even Mrs. Gunn does not object. She keeps a blanket for her on the chair. Gracie's getting older now and seems soothed by this place." He glanced around. "I have one more dog to find, our cairn terrier. She prefers a warm spot by the kitchen hearth. I'll check there before I finish up."

"Do you round up Thistle, too, when you do the last things?"

"My aunt's maid takes care of the creature." He made a wry face. "As did my father, who fancied Thistle. Gunnie would send the beastie back to India if she could. I heard you made a friend of our wee Thistle today at tea." He smiled.

Christina smiled. "Somehow I did," she answered. "I would have thought the butler would take care of the lamps and such at the end of the day, Sir Aedan."

"MacGregor is a feisty old rogue, but forgetful sometimes. And it is tradition at Dundrennan for the laird to see to the last things."

"You honor many traditions here, as the laird, I think."

"Some I honor, and some I forego. I was not raised to be the laird, though now that I am, I tend to my responsibilities. If you would prefer to read a bit, madam, I'll come back after I see to the rest of the house."

She stood, set down her book. "I thought I might go for a walk in the gardens before I went up to my room."

"Now? In the rain and the darkness?"

"The rain has cleared, I think, and there's some moonlight. I wanted to see the gardens and the monument... the Remembrance."

"Very well. I would be glad to show you."

"Oh, no, I cannot inconvenience you. Besides, if we were seen together so late, we would have much to explain."

"Does that matter? We both know it's perfectly innocent to go for a little walk at night."

"Truly, I can find my way. It's just through to the back of the garden. Shall I use the side door past the kitchen?"

"Aye, but do not wake Cook, who sleeps nearby—she can be disagreeable. Take the path straight back; do not veer left, for that leads to an oakwood. We would not want you to get lost. Go through the gate at the end of the path, and follow the yew walk out to the Remembrance."

"Thank you. It will be nice to see the Remembrance in moonlight."

"You are a romantic, Mrs. Blackburn." He thought it would be nice to view the monument in moonlight, too—with her. And he did not like the idea of sending her out alone, even within the grounds. "You may want to bring a lamp with you, for the path is overgrown with tree roots in some places. But the view at night is well worth the trouble."

"As Scott said, 'If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright...'"

"'Go visit it by the pale moonlight,'" he finished.

"You know it!" She smiled, and he shrugged. As she crossed the room, he admired the sway of her skirt. She turned at the open door. "Good night, sir."