The Secret Gift (24 page)

Graeme was listening to her, thank God, but he still wasn’t pleased. It was evident from the look on his face that he was still very upset.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she said, pleading with him with her eyes. “I couldn’t tell anyone, because if Lady Venetia had somehow learned the truth, that I was here, that I even existed, she could have quickly closed the sale of the estate to the drilling company, which would only complicate the matter further, and might bring irreparable harm to the village. Don’t you see? I have to do this. If I don’t, there will be no village left. Your neighbors will no longer be the crofters and the countryside, but a mineral drilling factory. This landscape, everything special about this place, will be spoiled. The lives of the villagers will be ruined. I cannot allow that to happen. And I won’t allow it to happen.”

The news spread throughout the village and surrounding settlements as the day for the initial hearing in the Sheriff Court quickly approached. The hearing would be held in the town of Wick, at the district’s Sheriff Court, and even though it was nearly two hours’ drive east from the village, most everyone seemed intent on attending. Most everyone, that was, except Graeme. He had left the confrontation in the café that day clearly still feeling betrayed. Libby hadn’t seen him since, although several times, she’d gotten into her car, even driving as far as the castle gate, only to turn around and leave without seeing him.

What could she possibly say to him?

Hamish Brodie had arrived two days before the hearing and had taken a room at the Crofter’s Cottage to spend the time with Libby going over their legal strategy. The hearing, he explained, was really nothing more than a springboard. This sort of case was too substantial, and Hamish fully expected it would be moved up to the higher Court of Session in Edinburgh, perhaps even on to the House of Lords, which would ultimately decide the fate of the Wrath estate.

Meanwhile, the community was rallying around Libby. For too long the villagers had been kept from improving their way of life because of Lady Venetia’s feudal rule over the village and surrounding lands. But now there was a chance for change. Those who had been too afraid to speak to Libby upon her arrival now greeted her openly in the street, inviting her in for tea. And everyone, it seemed, had a story to tell of her mother and father and the great love they had shared.

The day of the hearing dawned with rain, casting a fittingly somber mood on the proceedings. Libby walked into the courtroom with Hamish Brodie, who directed her toward two tables that had been set up before the bench. At the front of the room stood a high bench where the sheriff would sit to listen while the two sides presented their cases. From her one experience with jury duty, it seemed all very similar to the American court system.

Hamish and Libby took the table at the left. Libby sat while Hamish went to the other side of the room, shaking hands and exchanging greetings with the solicitors who represented the interests of the estate.

Lady Venetia, Libby noticed, was nowhere to be seen.

The judge came in, sweeping into the room in a flash of black robes and white curled periwig. He sat at the front of the room and faced the assembly, banging his gavel down as he called the hearing to order. Libby sat silently as Hamish outlined her complaint in its most legal terms, listening as the sterile details of her life were brought out for all to hear.

As expected, there were objections from Lady Venetia’s solicitors, but Hamish performed à la Perry Mason, as if he had anticipated every one of their arguments, speaking clearly and with the confidence of the right and just. The sheriff asked a few questions, mostly dealing with Lady Venetia’s handling of the estate thus far, and then, in the end, just as Hamish had told her to expect, the judge recommended that the case be moved to the next highest court, the Court of Session. Another hearing, this time in Edinburgh, would need to be scheduled.

“Is that all, gentlemen?”

The sheriff was preparing to call the hearing to a close.

Hamish spoke up. “One more point, if I may?”

Libby looked at him.

“I wish to address the issue of the Castle of Wrath. As was outlined in my complaint, the validity of the sale of this property is in question. It goes back to the same stipulation that Lady Venetia does not have the right to sell the estate in any part at all. I wish to suggest that until the matter has been decided by the higher court, Miss Hutchinson should have immediate occupancy.”

What?!

Libby tried to get his attention, scribbling
No!
on the legal pad before her and underlining it three times. This wasn’t what she wanted, no matter her legal right in the matter.

He ignored her and pressed on.

“Miss Hutchinson will have to extend her stay in Scotland, with the added expense of accommodation, while this matter is decided in the courts and the appeals that no doubt will follow. Since she was born in Scotland before emigrating to America, she holds dual citizenship in both countries, and so there is no impediment to her remaining in Scotland as long as she wishes. So, until the other party can prove their right to have sold the property at all, I see no reason why Miss Hutchinson shouldn’t have access to the property to which we allege she is entitled, to allay the costs of her remaining in Scotland to see this process through.”

The sheriff withdrew from the courtroom to consider the petition, no doubt to research any pertinent law. Murmurs from the villagers issued from behind. Everything suddenly felt so out of Libby’s control.

“Hamish, this isn’t what I wanted,” she whispered to him.

“You must trust me in this, Libby. A good deal of our case hinges on your desire to assume responsibility for your birthright. Lady Venetia’s advisors could argue that because you intend to return to America, and not even take possession of the property, you would be, in essence, just as much, if not more, of an absentee landlord as Lady Venetia, or the mineral drilling company, for that matter. Lady Venetia can claim she has no such plans to sell the estate, and can also argue her proximity to the estate. Absentee landlords are not well thought of in the Highlands. They have not been shown to have the best interests of the villagers at heart. I must establish a connection for you to the estate that will demonstrate your intention to stay the course. Having you renting a room at the Crofter’s Cottage will not support this point.”

The sheriff returned less than a quarter of an hour later.

“It is the judgment of this court, after much consideration, and given the size of the property known as Castle Wrath, that hereafter the castle shall be occupied by both Miss Hutchinson and the present tenant, until such time as a higher court determines who the rightful property holder should be.”

The sheriff raised his gavel and brought it down with a resounding clap, closing the hearing until its continuance in the higher court in Edinburgh. It was only afterward, as she was driving back along the winding A836, that Libby realized exactly what had just taken place. And when she did, she hit the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden skidding halt.

Good God. They were going to be living together.

She and Graeme.

In that castle.

Alone.

Libby pulled the car slowly into the castle courtyard, the wheels crunching on the gravel drive as she parked alongside Graeme’s freshly washed and gleaming Land Rover. The larger SUV dwarfed the mud-spattered semicompact.

She cut the engine, but she didn’t immediately get out of the car. Her nerve, not very strong to begin with, was slipping further still now that the moment was at hand. She’d waited two days after the hearing before vacating her room at the Crofter’s Cottage. For one thing, that would even her stay there to a full fortnight, thereby easing the accounting for the two sisters. But for another, it would give Graeme the time to come to terms with the news that he was going to be sharing his living quarters with her.

“No point putting it off any longer,” she said to the steering wheel as she took the keys from the ignition and slipped out of the front seat.

She glanced up at the narrow windows winking in the midday light from the castle tower and wondered if he was watching her arrival. Centuries earlier, the castle’s inhabitants would have poured boiling oil down on intruders to keep them from gaining access to the keep. Then, enemies had come armed with battering rams and armies of fierce clansmen. She’d come armed with a mere slip of paper signed by the court.

As she approached the door, bags in hand, Libby wondered what she would say to him. Should she keep it casual? As if she were just some Highland tourist stopping in for a weekend? Or should she prepare herself with a list of reasons to cite as to why this was so necessary? Somehow, no matter what she said, she doubted he would think Hamish’s idea that she take up residence was a sound one.

In the end, none of it mattered. Her knock on the door wasn’t answered by Graeme at all.

“Hallo, Miss Hutchinson. I’ve been expecting you.”

The woman had kindly green eyes and a face of the sort that was naturally beautiful without the need for any cosmetic enhancement. Her vibrant red hair was pulled back in a loosened knot that was now drooping at the back of her neck, with wisps of it loose and caressing her delicate chin. She wore an apron over the simple floral dress that draped her slender figure, falling to just above her knees. She was wiping her wet hands with a dish towel.

“You’re Flora? Angus’s sister?”

“Aye, that’s me.” She finished drying her hands and offered one to Libby in greeting. “Welcome to Castle Wrath. ’Tis grand to finally meet you after all my brother has told me about you. You’re certainly as pretty as he said you were.”

She hadn’t said a word about having walked in on Libby and Graeme that night, and in fact acted every bit as if this was the first time she’d ever set eyes on her, even though images of Libby with her sweater hanging open must be flashing through her mind. Grateful, Libby smiled as the woman stepped back to allow her inside.

“I’ve set up Lady Isabella’s room for you. I’m afraid ’tis on the topmost floor, a bit of a hike to get to, but well worth the effort. It really is the best room and has the prettiest view of the sea. Can I help you with your things?”

Without even waiting for Libby’s reply, Flora took one bag while Libby lugged two others and followed her up the central oak stairway. As they went, Flora kept up a constant stream of chatter, filling Libby in on the basic arrangement of the castle, where to put any post she wished to send, when deliveries were made, if she preferred tea or coffee with her breakfast.

“Oh, you don’t have to make my breakfast, Flora.”

“Och, ’tis fine. I’m already doing it for Mr. Mackenzie. An extra spot of water in the tea kettle isn’t any trouble.”

On the first floor, they passed the doorway to Graeme’s office and Libby glimpsed him inside, standing with his back to the door as he spoke into the telephone. He made no move to acknowledge them, and Flora said nothing as they climbed another set of stairs that led to the castle’s north tower.

Lady Isabella’s “room” was actually more of a suite that took up the whole of that part of the castle. There was the main bedchamber with its lofty carved ceiling and polished wood floor, a sitting room tucked in the rounded tower corner with views out to the sea and surrounding countryside, and a bathroom with both a shower and a claw-foot tub that connected the room to another equally large suite on the castle’s other side.

“That’s the laird’s chamber,” Flora told her, motioning toward the door. When Libby peered through, her concern must have shown on her face. “Ehm, Mr. Mackenzie prefers a bedchamber closer to his office on the floor below, in case any calls come in early. So ’twill be just you up here.”

Libby smiled, nodded. Well, at least they wouldn’t be sharing a shower.

Although they could both certainly fit in that tub ...

The thought had come out of nowhere, but it only served to remind Libby of what would now most certainly never be.

Back in the bedchamber, she started taking her things from her suitcases, hanging them in the tall rosewood armoire, which smelled of lavender and something else that was sweet but not quite floral—vanilla, perhaps?

The bed was enormous, a four-poster that would certainly require the small steps standing beside it just to get into. It stood in the middle of the room and was beautifully hand-carved along the posts with images of thistles and heather. The white sheets were freshly laid, smelling of lavender, the pillows goose-feather plump. It looked warm and inviting, as comforting as her mother’s arms. Libby couldn’t wait to curl up in it.

Flora had opened the windows in the sitting area to air the room, and the wind off the sea breezed inside, salty and cool, fluttering the gauzy white curtains. There was a woolen throw draped over the foot of the bed and a basket of fresh peat waiting beside the cozy hearth.

“It does get a bit chilly in here at night,” Flora told her, pulling the windows closed. “If you run out of peat, there’s more in the bin off the kitchen. Gil keeps us well stocked.”

Flora reached toward the wall, flicking an inconspicuous switch that opened a small, nearly indistinguishable door built into the paneling. “These passages were built in case of fire, more for safety’s sake than anything else, but they save you a bit of distance if you’re heading for the kitchen. Mind yourself, though, the steps are small and the turnstile is quite narrow. Lady Isabella must have been a wee thing like yourself.”

She ducked her head inside as if to demonstrate, until Libby realized she intended to take the stairs to leave.

“Dinna worry. I swept away all the cobwebs.” Flora smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I was just after making a fresh pot of tea when you arrived. Why don’t you come down to the kitchen when you’re finished with your things and have a cuppa?”

Libby smiled and nodded, grateful that this woman had made her foreboding arrival at the castle so comfortable. She suspected that the other occupant of the house wouldn’t be so pleasant.