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     She would not to mention the row to George.  It would be like
gossiping,
or that she was interfering.  Best to let it all die down.  Her heart ached for Jessie.  What her cousin so desperately needed was love and trust.  After a life time of Prissy she needed to be able to act freely without fear of rebuke.  Prissy meant well, but she was a domineering woman, powerful and feared throughout the business and social networks.

Dinah made a point of wearing jeans and trainers, as George was intent on showing her around the boggy land surrounding the Manor. There were so many so fairy forts, cromlechs and Bronze Age boulders in the fields, ancient stones that stood for ancient pagan rites lost in the mists of time.
Somne had been destroyed in the Clearances, but the majority remained.
She put on a slim leather belt with a Celtic style
clasp; the
jeans were a little
tight; she
just hoped her behind didn’t look too large in them.  

He met her with an impish grin, wearing a denim chambray shirt, washed jeans and a rucksack on his back.  ‘’You look great.  Jeans suit you.’

She made a grimace. ‘Now you’re being kind.’

‘Kind – why?’

‘I try not to wear jeans or shorts – I need to lose weight.’

‘Don’t lose a pound sweetheart – I love you just as you are.  ‘ He meant
it,
as his eyes roved over the ample but so shapely figure.  Right
now,
he’d just love to pull her close and stroke the rounded buttocks.

Dinah could see the sincerity in his eyes, the look of desire in the eyes roving over her.  Dimples appeared in her cheeks as she tried to suppress a smile. 

He couldn’t resist it and grabbed her to him.  ‘One gorgeous woman and one beautiful day.  I thought
we'd
find a quiet spot to have a picnic.’

‘Seems picnics are popular around here.’ Dinah grinned, knowing it could be a ruse for sex on a warm blanket
in
the sun. But
then,
she found George extremely attractive, even thinking of his body roused her, sending tingles from her diaphragm to her groin.  She was ready for him.   But, was he?

George laughed; it was a sure way of getting up close to a girl.  ‘We won’t need the car; we can use the track past the
Orangery
that will bring us out to open fields and the loch.’  He’d found a place that was very private, private enough for what he had in mind.

‘Jessie told me there’s a field of bison up ahead.’

Hearing the question in her
voice,
he said, ‘Don’t worry we won’t be going through them. They frighten the life out of me. I had a chance encounter with a bull
once.
It appeared out of
nowhere,
a big black brute intent on murder.  I don’t think  I’ve ever run so fast before or since.  It was
awful; the
ground was boggy; I kept stumbling in the tussocks of grass then splashing through water.  I scarcely made it by tearing my way through a blackberry bushes, and climbing the fence.’

‘That
must have been awful.’

‘Yeah, hence my fear of anything four footed above the size of a dog. I’m even wary of goats.’

Dinah laughed.  ‘They can be quite vicious too. My grandfather had a field where he kept goats and greyhounds.  He thought I needed feeding up, so every morning I had to go to the
goats'
shed where he'd milk one of them and then hand me a tin mug full to the brim. It was still warm.  Thing
is,
I had to drink it quickly as the goats would butt you without a second’s notice. ‘

‘Yuck – you didn’t drink it?’

‘Yes, it was lovely, well I was a
child,
and wouldn’t know any better then. My grandmother made
goats'
cheese as well.’

‘I find it rather dry and acrid.’

‘Same here now. 
But,
at the time I used to tuck in. They were nice times actually, when visiting them for a holiday I used to love picking the
blackberries,
so Mumma would could make her apple and blackberry pies.’

‘Mumma?

‘ Yeah, I had a Welsh great great great grandmother.   We always call a grandmother Muma, or Mongee, a grandfather is usually called Duccee.’

‘So that’s where you get your dark hair then?’

‘I suppose so, she came from
Swansea,
which,
as
you know,
was a main port in Roman times, so the Welsh
people 
around the port are a mixture of all types, Roman, Spanish, Vikings.’      

‘Well rest assured the only
cheese,
we have today is mature cheddar and some brie.’

‘That’s brave of you bringing Brie in this heat. It’s a wonder it doesn’t smell to high heaven.’

‘Nah,
got
it in a sealed plastic carton.  It’ll be just the right temperature – love the stuff – oh and I’ve got some olives stuffed with red peppers.’

‘Great – I look forward to it.’

George
grinned,
and kept quiet about the fresh lobster carefully packed in wedges of ice. It was a favourite of
hers,
and he wanted to give the best today, along with two small bottles of champagne again packed in iced cartons.  Dinah noticed with relief that they kept well away from the bison. As they came to a
turnstile,
he took her hand helping her over.  ‘Milady.’

She smiled as he climbed over after her and casually took her hand. 

‘Now let’s search for some fairy forts.  There might be the odd cromlech or two as well.’

‘There’re some lovely stories about the forts but some frightening ones as well. They say that if you enter one, you have to take your top off and turn it inside out before leaving. Otherwise the fairies will curse you – lots of bad luck.  A guy was telling me the other
day,
how someone he knew just
laughed,
and said it was superstitious nonsense but then shortly after that, his wife was the victim of a
hit-and-run  driver; his
son broke his leg playing
football,
and he lost his job.”

George grinned, ‘So best to keep to the rules then.  Yeats wrote so much about the Fey, and the Merrow’

‘Merrow?  Yeah he anglicised the original name for
mermen,
which was Moruadh or Murrughach, it is derived from
Muir,
the sea and
oigh
meaning maid.  Being a lover of Yeats I have most of his books.  A small favourite of mine is ‘Writings on Irish Folklore , Legend and Myth'  For the first half of his career as an writer he was intrigued with the mysticism of
Ireland,
but later he took on a more sombre tone being caught up in politics and the troubles.’

‘You know come
to think of it; Muriall's
name could really stand for mermaid.’

Yeah, true.  It would explain the mermaid thing. Although the rumours were she was a mermaid, picked up as a toddler from the sea by an old fisherman and shack squatter.  

‘Hmm. Strange.  I’ve heard Yeats was a mystic wrote some beautiful work.’

‘Oh yes he wrote that once you get to know the Irish, once they let you into their hearts, you realize they live a world lost in the mists of time.  It is a world of ancient dreams, myths that are still alive.  To them, the ruins of ancient houses are fairy forts, a boulder a symbol of a god or goddess, a twisted tree
are
all signs of something mysterious and beautiful.  Witches and wizards abound and are still powerful.  The smiths and the millers being part of ancient brotherhood of magic.  As in England in medieval times, the smiths and other craftsmen were invested with magical powers. Their forges were believed to be enchanted.  Yeats quotes a man living by the sea in Galway who said there was a fairy stream nearby where they could see the fairies
bathing; that
every night they could hear a fairy forge, with the hammering of the iron and the blast of the furnace.   Of
course,
you’ve heard about the blacksmiths?’

‘Dinah shook her head.  ‘No, I’m aware of some of the myths and legends of the American Indians – some people believe in
them; they
mainly worship their ancestors, calling God the Grandfather, then of course there’s the Trickster, a joker who could be either very helpful or downright evil. I’m fascinated with their mysticism,’

‘There’s a Trickster in Irish paganism as well, the Lomna, one story is of him informing Fionn the Leader of the Fianna, that a wife had been unfaithful to him.  But the adulterer Coirpe,  so Yeats writes, kills the fool and sticks his head on a spike, but when the Fianna come, the head becomes alive castigating Coirpe who is then slain. 

‘Gruesome, but who were the Fianna?’

‘They were the ‘Fenian militia’ but again that is a term used by Yeats so it could be the anglicized version. They served the
High
King
Cormac. 

‘You really know your Irish myths and legends.’

‘Well that’s through years of studying Yeats, teaching about him, helps keep the memories alive as well.
I’m going to research the Scottish folklore now I
am here.

‘Being in New York, we are quite distant from the paganism of England, Ireland and Scotland, and
Wales,
for that matter. I know some of the Irish community in New York often speak of the
Fey; some
of them call them The Gentry, and then of course there’s the shamrock which is supposed to have magical powers.
But,
Jessie has more to do with that than myself.  Perhaps that’s where she gets her mysticism from.’

George frowned, ‘A priest Father O’Reilly talks of a darker force, not that I would mention it to Jess.’

‘I  wanted to move in with
her,
but she wouldn’t have it. Jess likes her solitude.’

CHAPTER 
28

George helped Dinah over a style into the next field.  He smiled as she pulled back seeing some cows.  ‘It’s
okay; they
won’ hurt.

‘Don’t you believe it? One woman was trampled to death by a group of them.’

‘Oh – well we’ll keep to this side of the field; you can easily jump the fence if they charge.’ ‘He tried to hide a smile. ‘Changing the subject, Jessie’s keen to trace her ancestors isn’t she?’

‘Oh yes, her ancestor M
orag
was born on one of the coffin ships. She came to the US with only a locket and two scraps of paper as we know. That does seem to rile D
ouglas. I wasn’t
going
to tell you, but they’ve had a fearful row.  Jess innocently showed him a locket and some scraps of paper that could be birth certificates.  Inside is a miniature painting that looks exactly like Douglas.  He now
suspects Jessie might be after the estate, but that is the furthest thing from her mind you know.  Anyway, she has no need of money, love and friendship yes. Jessie led a lonely life until she met her ex-
boyfriend
Pete. I’m sure her step-mother Prissy had a lot to do with that breaking up. He worked abroad most of the time, free-lance Journalist – photographer,  but Prissy did keep on about him not being trustworthy, that he was bound to meet other girls on his
travels.
She wanted Jessie to marry into old money, keep it all in the family.’

‘God what a bleak existence.’

I know Jessie is still isolated. The only time she feels she
belongs,
is when she is treating her clients.  I think at times she lives for that. ’

George frowned, ‘D
ouglas is
besotted with
her; that's
why he’s in such turmoil. .
Let’s hope they can sort it out.’

‘Oh, so you’ve heard about the quarrel?’

‘Well I saw them arguing by the Orangery. 
I didn't 
mean to pry so I just went the other way.  Talk about a torrid love affair.’

Dinah felt that tingle again. Not half as torrid as theirs would be. At the right opportunity, she would show her dear bear of a man what torrid was all about. 
‘

Coming to another style they crossed into a field with a stone bedded stream.  George said, ‘Let’s stop here for a lunch then we can make our way to the pub.’

‘Yes why not, you never know, we might see the fairies bathing – just joking.’

Yet George could see from her expression that she half believed.
’

Kneeling,
he took the ruck sack from his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a small waterproof we can sit on. One thing you can be sure of in
Scotland,
the grass will be damp.  Now here’s a cloth. ‘Laying out a small square of linen he began unpacking the food.