Journey to Enchantment (15 page)

“Unhappily so,” said Delacourt, frowning.

“And one who is overwhelmed by the bravery of two Englishmen in behalf of our poor rebels, my lord,” Prudence declared.

His lordship acquired a hunted look. “P-pray do not refine upon it, ma'am. I plain did not like the oddth. Not a fair fight. Are you ready, Mith Clandon?”

“Yes. Is there anything else, Geoff?”

He leaned forward. “Tell me again, if you will, Elizabeth.”

“I am to discover if the men who were lurking about Castle Court are gone now. I must tell Grandmama that Colonel Cunningham has had word a Jacobite was taken near Tullynessie. And that”—her voice shredded a little and she clasped her hands—“that you dinnae think it could be J-Johnny Robertson, but—but that he is being put to the question because the redcoats think he was carrying a part of the cypher.”

Prudence cringed. The cypher again. And God help the poor lad—whomever he may be! She glanced at his lordship, hearing him mutter a curse under his breath.

“If that ith the cathe, then they don't yet have it.”

Delacourt nodded. “And let us pray it is not Robertson they've caught. But—if it is, he likely destroyed his cypher, and we'll have to send off another. Remind Lady Ericson, Elizabeth. And don't forget. I think we must send out two of the list, just to be on the safe side.”

Miss Clandon repeated the message, and he wheeled his chair to take her hand and press it to his lips. “Very good. Now be off with you, madcap. And—God guard you both.”

Mincing past, Briley paused by the wheelchair, tugged his friend's head around by the hair, and scanned him judicially. “Too wan, by half. Get into the fresh air, dear boy. Have a long walk. Do you good.” He glanced slyly at Prudence, slapped his friend on the back, and was off, the clicking of his high heels on the stone floors echoing after him.

*   *   *

Prudence guided the invalid chair along the path that led through the shrubbery, and halted in the shade of a weeping willow tree that bowed beside the goldfish pond. “This is nice,” she said tentatively.

“That would be better, I think.” The Captain indicated the centre of the flower gardens where four paths came together spokelike to form an open area wherein curving stone benches offered rest amid the blossoms.

“But there is no shade for you,” she demurred.

“True, but you brought your sunshade. We can huddle under it together,” he said, sending a whimsical grin over his shoulder.

Prudence said, “I think we shall have the tree.”

“No, if you please.” He added quietly, “In the centre we can be sure we are not overheard, ma'am. Trees on this estate have a way of being most unexpectedly occupied.”

She gave a trill of laughter. “How wretched of you to remind me.”

“And how excellent of you to illustrate how easily one can become careless. I sent Kerbie to investigate, and he confirmed that it is very easy to see right into my windows with a glass. A nasty error on my part.”

“You made a more serious one,” she told him, turning the chair onto the narrow path through the flowerbeds.

“I did? Pray tell me.”

“There is a bench below the level of the terrace. If you look, you will see it is directly in line with your windows.”

He turned his dark head, and Prudence noted how thick was his hair, and how it strove to curl even though Lockerbie had tied it back so severely. He said, “It is a sufficient distance that a conversation in the room could not be overheard—is that what you imply?”

“Yes. And you are mistaken. I sat there and heard you telling Lockerbie what a good spy he was.”

“Oh, Lord!” gasped the Captain, looking up at her, dismayed.

“And I heard your groom arrive from England, and— Good gracious! I've not seen him since!”

He said gravely, “He knew too much.” He drew a finger across his throat. “Let that be a lesson to you, Madam Eavesdropper!”

His reward was a repetition of her rich little gurgle of mirth, and he divulged that Cole was caring for the men in the pyramid. “But please tell me how you heard us. We all kept our voices low, as I recall.”

“'Tis some trick of the echo. Robbie and I used it occasionally to spy on our father.”

“Wretched brats. I can picture Rob being so graceless, but I'd not have thought it of you, ma'am.”

Seating herself on one of the benches, she admitted with a sigh, “Alas, I am very graceless at times. And when I was a child—oh, dreadful! It was Rob's doing, of course. He was my idol and allowed me to tag along after him.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the arms of his chair, watching the sunshine wake her hair to a bright coppery glow and bring a golden sheen to the curve of her cheek. Smilingly, he said, “If I know aught of brothers and sisters, what you mean is that he bullied you into sharing his scrapes.”

“No, no. I fear that was not the way of it, for I was a natural tomboy. Indeed”—she gazed out at the magnificent sweep of the loch—“'twas my idea aboot the Monster…”

“Monster?”

“Aye. We'd heard poor Aunty Mac conversing with Papa in his study, you see, while we were sitting on yon bench.” She saw his dark brows lift, and went on hurriedly, “You're thinking us horrid, but truly—we seldom listened. This time, Aunty was boring on at Papa aboot her stars and the Monster, which we found delicious beyond belief.”

“Never say your Monster was in Mrs. Hortense's stars? I've noticed she takes it all very seriously. Do you, Miss MacTavish?”

She hesitated. “I know astrology is not as highly thought of as it once was. But there must be
something
to it, surely? After all, many great monarchs and politicians ordered their lives according to the advice of their astrologers, and—”

“And forced their subjects to wear iron collars, and burned witches, and—”

“And I'll no have ye laughing at her, sir!” The delightful twinkle lit her eyes, although she pretended severity. He sobered and said with commendable meekness that he was very sorry and had the greatest liking and respect for Mrs. MacTavish. “But—do tell me, what was the connection between the lady's stars and your Monster? Do you mean the legendary Nessie?”

“I do, that. The Loch Ness Monster.” She frowned at the quirk that tugged at his lips and said, “I suppose you think it all a hum.”

“No, indeed, ma'am. I'd not dream of making so improper an observation.”

He looked so prim and proper that she could not but laugh. “You have quite a way with words, Captain.”

Delacourt watched the merry curve of her lips and forgot all words.

Aware of his absorption, she blushed and went on quickly, “As I was saying before you gave me such a cruel setdown…”

He groaned and put a hand over his eyes.

Smiling, Prudence went on, “Aunty Mac told Papa the Monster was going to come oot onto the land and would eat us all up for breakfast on the following Sunday.”

He lowered his hand to stare at her. “You're making it up! She
meant
it?”

“Her stars meant it, sir. Papa laughed so hard, and we laughed, too. Poor Aunty Mac was upset and began to cry, but Papa could not stop laughing. So I got the idea for the Monster to help my aunty.” She sighed. “Lud, what a flummery! Er, I mean—what an uproar that caused.”

“Do tell me,” he murmured, fascinated by the twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes.

“You should know that Robbie and I had for some time been building a boat. We'd had to be very secretive aboot it, for Papa did not like us to go out alone on the loch. Storms can come up suddenly, you know. The water is terribly cold, and it is bottomless in parts. We'd been doing our dark deeds in an abandoned old shed behind the stables. I'll show you, if you wish. 'Tis none so far.”

“Your boat is still there, then? Jove,
yes,
I'd like to see it!”

“We'd not quite finished it when we overheard Aunty and Papa that day. I suppose it just kept growing because we were so enthused about it. But it was a wee bit odd as to shape, and 'twas that gave me the notion that with a little extra work we could make it into a grand Monster.”

He laughed. “What a rascal! Did you?”

“Aye. We got two of Robbie's friends to help us hurry up. Och, it was a bonnie time we had. We made scales and a grand great head, and we varnished and painted—you'd no believe how lifelike the beastie looked when we were done.”

“I can scarce wait to see it. Is it still intact?”

“More or less. A bit mildewed with age, I'd think. But I must say it didn't look near so convincing in the old shed as it did once we got it into the water.”

“How did you manage that?”

“There were four of us, and we used a wheelbarrow in front and at the rear, but”—she chuckled at the recollection—“the silly thing toppled when we were going through the flower gardens, and flattened a fine stand of phlox the gardeners had set out but the day before.”

“I fancy you heard about that. How did you mean to make your Monster swim? Surely, oars would have ruined the effect?”

“The boys thought of that, and we made great ‘legs' and tied them on with ropes, then stuck the oars underneath.” She giggled uncontrollably. “Had ye but
seen
it! The oddest motion you could conceive, but one doesn't expect a Monster to be graceful.”

“No, of course. Do go on.”

“We'd picked a time very early in the morning, as you may guess. The boys were afraid we'd made it so heavy it would sink, but it rode on the surface quite nicely. We all crept inside to test the oars. The boys decided then that I was too little and that if we capsized I'd freeze solid before they could tow me to shore, so I was made to get out. Oh, but I was cross and railed at them bitterly until they began to row, and then—oh … Captain!” Prudence had to pause, to wipe tears from her eyes. “I was so glad I was on the shore, for an odder sight you never saw. I laughed until I fell down and rolled aboot! They—they didnae row very well together, so a leg would go up and sort of—hang i' the air, and then splash doon, and then up would go another and the poor Monster … reeled and staggered aboot on the loch!” She broke into helpless laughter at the memory, and Delacourt, drawn into her mirth, laughed with her.

“What a sight it must have been! But how did they come to grief? You said something about terrible consequences.”

“Oh … dear,” moaned Prudence, catching her breath. “Aye—they came to grief all right. The plan had been to stay close inshore and beach our Monster when Papa or Aunty Mac chanced to catch a glimpse of it, so as to prove it really did mean to come oot onto the land. But—what with the boys' uneven rowing, and their not being able to see very well, they headed into the middle of the lake instead. Well, Captain, if ye think the Monster was effective at close range, you should've seen him at a distance! Our worst fault—the fact that the rear was not level wi' the front and sort of sagged—proved the most valuable asset, for it looked exactly as though the Monster had reared up his head and shoulders and the rest of him was still under water. Faith, 'twas enough tae put the fear o'God intae a Highland heart! And just at that time, out comes my papa from the house, running at a speed I never saw him equal in his life, and Aunty Mac and all the servants streaming along behind, and everyone waving their arms and shouting. Oh, but it was a sight to behold!”

“Yes, but did they come safely to shore?”

“Very soon, for the boys realized where they were at last, and managed to turn the beastie. Only, just then … poor Aunty Mac saw where we had dropped the boat into the flowerbed and … and she said…” She was overcome again and had to pause while Delacourt, grinning broadly, waited for the end of her story. “She said,” went on Prudence, regaining her aplomb, “that the Monster had walked through our flowers looking for us. And she cried, ‘He was
this
close to the house! And now he's coming back to
eat us up!
' And down she went in a faint, poor lady.”

“Oh, dear. So that was the terrible consequence! Your father must have been enraged when the truth came out.”

Drying her eyes again, Prudence sighed. “He was that. And raked the boys down properly. Although Rob was grieved already, for he is very fond of Aunty Mac, and had meant only to help her with her stars, not scare the poor lady into a decline.”

“It sounds as though no real harm was done, and what a grand memory for you all.” Watching her expressive face, he said, “You must have had a wonderful childhood here.” He glanced around at the great loch, the powerful thrust of the mountains, the wild, cut-up hills, and thought how different it was, how untamed and lonely compared to his gentle English countryside.

“We could not have had a better one,” she replied. “And what of you, Captain? Were you as fortunate?”

“Yes, I thank God. My sister and I spent most of our early years with my father at our country home in Oxfordshire.”

“Not at all like our scenery, I know.”

“Do you? Have you been to England, then?”

“I was in London when I was twelve. We've relations there.”

She looked amused, and he asked carefully, “Did you find it pleasing?”

“I found it incredible. I really couldn't believe it. So many people, so much noise and confusion, so much excitement. I was too young, of course, to go to balls or to Court, but I used to dream of a London come-out.” Her smile went a little awry. “Too late now.”

“Why?”

Startled, she said, “I can well imagine how I'd be received! A Scots lady—one of those barbarians who sought to overthrow your King!”

“Oh, no. It is far more likely you'd be received with admiration. Very many English were in sympathy with your Prince's Cause, even if they did not openly support it.”