could.’
‘She’s the busy one,’ Fergus mused. ‘Always with something to do, though I think she should widen her horizons a bit. We’ve spoken about a shared exhibition in Edinburgh one of these days, but I can’t pin her down to a definite date so far. She’s a clever artist, but she just seems to be content where she is.’
‘Maybe that’s all she wants,’ Charles suggested. ‘She has a full life with her sculpture and the hotel.’
‘Maybe,’ Fergus said thoughtfully, ‘but sometimes I think she would be wise to look for more. She has a tremendous talent, you know, something that should be shared with a wider and maybe more appreciative public.’
‘You should talk!’ said Charles, standing beside his chair. ‘Hiding your own light under a bushel as you do!’
Fergus smiled at Katherine.
‘My brother is prejudiced,’ he said.
‘Perhaps you would let me see your paintings,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘I’m quite sure they’re good.’
Fergus hesitated, a look in his candid brown eyes which she found difficult to meet.
‘They’re average,’ he said. ‘But come and see.’
Sandy took his hand.
‘Can I ride Fudge?’ he asked. ‘He must be tired waiting for me.’
Charles ruffled his hair.
‘I’ll saddle him up for you,’ he offered.
Katherine was left alone with his brother, not in the least disconcerted by his handicap. Fergus propelled the invalid chair as easily as he would have walked beside her, leading the way into the studio to show her where he worked for most of the day. It held all the essentials of his art, paints and brushes and easels propped against the walls, some with completed pictures on them waiting to be varnished, others supporting boards ready for use. One huge canvas caught her eye. It was a picture of the loch on a winter’s day in subtle shades of grey and blue with snow capping the surrounding hills and one ray of pale sunshine escaping between the clouds. Somehow it seemed symbolic of this man’s life, and she felt quick tears stinging at the back of her eyes as she looked at him. Fergus had come up behind her and was assessing his masterpiece over her shoulder.
‘It’s Glassary in one of its less generous moods,’ he explained.
‘When everything seemed dark,’ she said.
‘Sandy was the one ray of sunlight.’ He moved across the room. ‘Perhaps I was too possessive, but how are we to know?’
‘You must have loved Coralie very much—’
‘Yes,’ he said when she hesitated. ‘I was shattered when she had to go, but now I know that it was more or less inevitable. She had her own life to lead and she couldn’t hope for the fulfilment she wanted here at Glassary. I was confined to my wheelchair,’ he added. ‘It was—constricting for us both.’
‘But Coralie—’ Katherine pulled up short of saying what she thought this time.
‘Coralie was talented in so many ways,’ he said. ‘She had a duty to follow her particular star.’
But no right, Katherine thought, aware that she was seeing Coralie in an entirely new light.
‘We’ve all got to have the courage to make our own decisions, though I couldn’t see it at the time,’ said Fergus.
‘And Charles can’t accept it even now!’
‘Don’t blame him too much.’ Fergus turned to the far side of the studio where the north light flooded through the windows. ‘He had reasons of his own.’
‘He’s dedicated to this place,’ Katherine said.
‘Can you blame him? If I had been the heir to Glassary I would have felt the same.’
‘Why has he never married?’
Fergus drew a deep breath.
‘For a good many reasons,’ he said. ‘But I think he will, in time.’
Without actually snubbing her, he had brought their conversation to a close. He would not discuss his brother’s reason for remaining a bachelor, even if he did know it.
‘I’ve often wished I could paint,’ Katherine said. ‘There’s so much to be said besides the obvious things.’
‘Is that
‘She’s the busy one,’ Fergus mused. ‘Always with something to do, though I think she should widen her horizons a bit. We’ve spoken about a shared exhibition in Edinburgh one of these days, but I can’t pin her down to a definite date so far. She’s a clever artist, but she just seems to be content where she is.’
‘Maybe that’s all she wants,’ Charles suggested. ‘She has a full life with her sculpture and the hotel.’
‘Maybe,’ Fergus said thoughtfully, ‘but sometimes I think she would be wise to look for more. She has a tremendous talent, you know, something that should be shared with a wider and maybe more appreciative public.’
‘You should talk!’ said Charles, standing beside his chair. ‘Hiding your own light under a bushel as you do!’
Fergus smiled at Katherine.
‘My brother is prejudiced,’ he said.
‘Perhaps you would let me see your paintings,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘I’m quite sure they’re good.’
Fergus hesitated, a look in his candid brown eyes which she found difficult to meet.
‘They’re average,’ he said. ‘But come and see.’
Sandy took his hand.
‘Can I ride Fudge?’ he asked. ‘He must be tired waiting for me.’
Charles ruffled his hair.
‘I’ll saddle him up for you,’ he offered.
Katherine was left alone with his brother, not in the least disconcerted by his handicap. Fergus propelled the invalid chair as easily as he would have walked beside her, leading the way into the studio to show her where he worked for most of the day. It held all the essentials of his art, paints and brushes and easels propped against the walls, some with completed pictures on them waiting to be varnished, others supporting boards ready for use. One huge canvas caught her eye. It was a picture of the loch on a winter’s day in subtle shades of grey and blue with snow capping the surrounding hills and one ray of pale sunshine escaping between the clouds. Somehow it seemed symbolic of this man’s life, and she felt quick tears stinging at the back of her eyes as she looked at him. Fergus had come up behind her and was assessing his masterpiece over her shoulder.
‘It’s Glassary in one of its less generous moods,’ he explained.
‘When everything seemed dark,’ she said.
‘Sandy was the one ray of sunlight.’ He moved across the room. ‘Perhaps I was too possessive, but how are we to know?’
‘You must have loved Coralie very much—’
‘Yes,’ he said when she hesitated. ‘I was shattered when she had to go, but now I know that it was more or less inevitable. She had her own life to lead and she couldn’t hope for the fulfilment she wanted here at Glassary. I was confined to my wheelchair,’ he added. ‘It was—constricting for us both.’
‘But Coralie—’ Katherine pulled up short of saying what she thought this time.
‘Coralie was talented in so many ways,’ he said. ‘She had a duty to follow her particular star.’
But no right, Katherine thought, aware that she was seeing Coralie in an entirely new light.
‘We’ve all got to have the courage to make our own decisions, though I couldn’t see it at the time,’ said Fergus.
‘And Charles can’t accept it even now!’
‘Don’t blame him too much.’ Fergus turned to the far side of the studio where the north light flooded through the windows. ‘He had reasons of his own.’
‘He’s dedicated to this place,’ Katherine said.
‘Can you blame him? If I had been the heir to Glassary I would have felt the same.’
‘Why has he never married?’
Fergus drew a deep breath.
‘For a good many reasons,’ he said. ‘But I think he will, in time.’
Without actually snubbing her, he had brought their conversation to a close. He would not discuss his brother’s reason for remaining a bachelor, even if he did know it.
‘I’ve often wished I could paint,’ Katherine said. ‘There’s so much to be said besides the obvious things.’
‘Is that
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