you?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, shook his head. ‘Have to be on your guard, know what you’re doing, until you get used to it, miss.’
I was cold, tired and the last thing I wanted was a moral lecture on the dangers of alcohol.
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me where I am,’ I said stiffly in my best Edinburgh accent, so there could be no mistaken identity about gipsies and putting him in his place.
‘I can do that, miss.’ That suppressed mockery again. ‘You’re in the midst of the estate forest running down to the banks of the river.’ And no longer teasing, patient now: ‘And where is it you wish to go, miss? Back to the castle, is that it?’
I ignored the ‘miss’ as I had ignored the gipsy implication. A horrid but familiar error by strangers at first meeting. I thought of the aristocratic lady in Ballater station. My mop of unruly yellow curls now about my shoulders, wildly tangled. My lack of any dress sense that would be regarded not as unfashionable but as distinctly unconventional.
It wasn’t the man’s fault. Ten years ago in 1895 when I first came to Edinburgh my self-styled designation: ‘Lady Investigator, Discretion Guaranteed’ had caused initial problems. Although to all accounts, mostly flattering, I had changed little since; my appearance sadly belied my forty years.
I said: ‘Not the castle, if you please. I am staying in a cottage near the stables with my family and my little girl,’ I added pointedly.
‘And you are on the right track of it, I’ll see you onto the path over yonder. Follow it, comes out right by the gates. It’ll be daylight soon; you’ll see the castle so you won’t get lost again. Come along, miss.’ And, smiling, he took my arm gently and led the way, a short distance through the trees towards the sounds of the swirling, shining river growing steadily closer.
I was lost for words, a whirlpool of emotions like that river surging inside me. Tired, cold and hungry, but most of all, overwhelmed by the sinister almost supernatural feeling that this man was no stranger to me. I knew him already. Knew that he could lock me into his eyes, not like Danny’s, not deep-blue Irish eyes, but even in that faint, early light, a strange luminous amber. Eyes I could drown in, fall down, down into a magic world like Alice-in-Wonderland, a world I had lost long ago.
We had set foot on the path, straight ahead, before us the swift-moving river.
‘Over there, see—’ he pointed. There was enough light now for the grey outline of the stables. ‘You’ll be back at your cottage directly.’
He bowed. That was somehow familiar too. ‘I’ll bid you good day, miss.’
I thanked him, walked a few steps, but when I turned for a last look, he had disappeared, swallowed up by the tall trees of the forest.
I heard dogs barking as I approached the cottage, dogs I had nearly mistaken for wolves during the night, although I could not have been more than half a mile off course. How was I going to explain what an idiot I had been, getting lost in the dark less than a mile away? Thank heaven Meg and Faith had stayed at the castle.
I opened the door. Thane was already there waiting to greet me and Mabel appeared in her night robe, staring down the stairs.
‘Where on earth have you been, Rose? That Dog has been going mad all night, flinging himself against the door, trying to get out.’
I was stroking his head, as he leant against my side. I could sense his relief that I was home and safe. That he was trying to tell me he knew I was in danger, he had tried and failed to reach me when I needed him.
‘I knew I mustn’t let him out, but I didn’t know what had got into him, going demented like that,’ Mabel was saying indignantly, ‘Keeping the whole place awake. Couldn’t sleep for the noise. He should be trained not to bark—’
I cut her short, murmured something consoling to her. But I knew perfectly well what had got into him. I hugged him
I was cold, tired and the last thing I wanted was a moral lecture on the dangers of alcohol.
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me where I am,’ I said stiffly in my best Edinburgh accent, so there could be no mistaken identity about gipsies and putting him in his place.
‘I can do that, miss.’ That suppressed mockery again. ‘You’re in the midst of the estate forest running down to the banks of the river.’ And no longer teasing, patient now: ‘And where is it you wish to go, miss? Back to the castle, is that it?’
I ignored the ‘miss’ as I had ignored the gipsy implication. A horrid but familiar error by strangers at first meeting. I thought of the aristocratic lady in Ballater station. My mop of unruly yellow curls now about my shoulders, wildly tangled. My lack of any dress sense that would be regarded not as unfashionable but as distinctly unconventional.
It wasn’t the man’s fault. Ten years ago in 1895 when I first came to Edinburgh my self-styled designation: ‘Lady Investigator, Discretion Guaranteed’ had caused initial problems. Although to all accounts, mostly flattering, I had changed little since; my appearance sadly belied my forty years.
I said: ‘Not the castle, if you please. I am staying in a cottage near the stables with my family and my little girl,’ I added pointedly.
‘And you are on the right track of it, I’ll see you onto the path over yonder. Follow it, comes out right by the gates. It’ll be daylight soon; you’ll see the castle so you won’t get lost again. Come along, miss.’ And, smiling, he took my arm gently and led the way, a short distance through the trees towards the sounds of the swirling, shining river growing steadily closer.
I was lost for words, a whirlpool of emotions like that river surging inside me. Tired, cold and hungry, but most of all, overwhelmed by the sinister almost supernatural feeling that this man was no stranger to me. I knew him already. Knew that he could lock me into his eyes, not like Danny’s, not deep-blue Irish eyes, but even in that faint, early light, a strange luminous amber. Eyes I could drown in, fall down, down into a magic world like Alice-in-Wonderland, a world I had lost long ago.
We had set foot on the path, straight ahead, before us the swift-moving river.
‘Over there, see—’ he pointed. There was enough light now for the grey outline of the stables. ‘You’ll be back at your cottage directly.’
He bowed. That was somehow familiar too. ‘I’ll bid you good day, miss.’
I thanked him, walked a few steps, but when I turned for a last look, he had disappeared, swallowed up by the tall trees of the forest.
I heard dogs barking as I approached the cottage, dogs I had nearly mistaken for wolves during the night, although I could not have been more than half a mile off course. How was I going to explain what an idiot I had been, getting lost in the dark less than a mile away? Thank heaven Meg and Faith had stayed at the castle.
I opened the door. Thane was already there waiting to greet me and Mabel appeared in her night robe, staring down the stairs.
‘Where on earth have you been, Rose? That Dog has been going mad all night, flinging himself against the door, trying to get out.’
I was stroking his head, as he leant against my side. I could sense his relief that I was home and safe. That he was trying to tell me he knew I was in danger, he had tried and failed to reach me when I needed him.
‘I knew I mustn’t let him out, but I didn’t know what had got into him, going demented like that,’ Mabel was saying indignantly, ‘Keeping the whole place awake. Couldn’t sleep for the noise. He should be trained not to bark—’
I cut her short, murmured something consoling to her. But I knew perfectly well what had got into him. I hugged him
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