Page 87 of Laird of Twilight
Clutching the page, James’s fingers trembled. Either his grandmother had a vivid imagination, or she knew the secrets of Kilcrennan. The manuscript continued in notes along the edge of the page. James rotated the page to read the rest.
The child, now a beautiful young woman, can remain in the earthly realm only if she can dissolve the fairy bargain. If she falls in love with a man who respects the fairy ilk for what they truly are, and treats them fairly, she may stay. But there is a condition. If she falls in love and stays, her grandfather will forfeit his life in return for her happiness. He will lose his gifts and enter the realm of the Fey forever.
He sat up slowly.
Their wicked bargain can be avoided if a treasure stolen long ago, taken from the fairy folk who inhabit these remote and wildish hills, is found and returned. And that treasure, says the man who told me this very tale, cannot be found.
James folded the page and tucked it into his pocket.
Chapter 20
“Look! Highland natives!” Lady Rankin pointed as the open carriage rumbled toward Loch Katrine, having left Struan House more than an hour earlier. Elspeth glanced where the woman indicated and saw two Highland men and a young boy walking along. They wore tartan kilts, loose shirts, jackets and flat bonnets, and as the coach passed, they waved and doffed their caps.
“Please do not call them natives, Aunt,” Fiona said, seated across from Elspeth, who sat beside Struan. Elspeth noted that Mr. MacKimmie, driving the vehicle, was dressed in his usual kilt and jacket, like many Highlanders, but he had appeared not to hear their conversation. As the carriage swayed and lumbered up a slope along the rough road, and Elspeth grabbed the edge of the leather bench seat.
“Well, they look like Hottentots,” Lady Rankin defended. “Though they greeted us nicely enough. My gracious, your coachman drives fast!” She grabbed a strap by the half-door.
“Some of the tourist coaches fly very fast through here on their way to Loch Katrine,” Elspeth said. “Grandfather says you could set a tea-table on their coattails, flying out so straight.” James and Fiona laughed.
“So I hear that the bridge, the Brig o’ Turk in Sir Walter’s poem, is in your glen, James,” Lady Rankin said, pointing toward a stone bridge in the distance.
“In the glen, aye, but not that one there, which was damaged by the recent rains,” James answered. “I thought of the Brig o’ Turk when you read to us fromThe Lady of the Lakethis morning, Aunt.” He glanced at Elspeth.
She smiled faintly, remembering how the lady had droned on imperiously at breakfast. Tugging at her gray bonnet, she folded her hands, gloved in pale kid leather, in the lap of her gray gown, which she wore with a dark green spencer and a tartan shawl. Her leather boots were sturdy enough for hillwalking, and she felt ready for a long outing in the cool autumn weather. She thought of Charlotte Sinclair, who had appeared a veritable vision this morning in a fetching dress and pelisse of pale blue with a matching bonnet, though her black slippers would not be up to the walking in store for them today. For a moment, glancing at James, Elspeth was glad that Charlotte rode in a second coach with Patrick, Sir Philip, and Donal MacArthur. Her grandfather would have little patience with Charlotte’s ways, and Elspeth was sorry for that, but happy to be traveling with James. Whatever adventure lay ahead, she would not think about it for now.
Watching the countryside fly by while MacKimmie drove with gusto, Elspeth enjoyed the comfort of the open coach, a landau with two horses. Lady Rankin had complained, wanting a coach and four, but Angus MacKimmie had insisted that a larger coach and four was poorly suited to the Highland terrain. “We will be lucky to come near the loch in this carriage,” he had said. “There are no good roads over the rocky ground ahead.”
Fiona began discussing geological matters with James, and Elspeth smiled, listening, though she did not understand the details of their conversation. She had found a friend in James’s twin sister, she was sure. The engagement would be kept secret even from Grandda and Peggy for now, and she knew she could trust Fiona and Patrick, too, to keep the news to themselves.
“That is Loch Achray,” she said then, pointing as the coach rolled onward.
Lady Rankin consulted a small guidebook. “It looks scarcely more than a pool. How disappointing. That is a Highland loch?”
“A small one—what we call a lochan,” Elspeth explained, “and very beautiful in autumn.” Gold and russet trees, oak and birch, covered the hillsides along with clustered evergreen trees.
Fiona unfolded a paper that Sir Walter Scott had provided for them. “Sir Walter reminds us here that ‘the impressive Trossach Mountains are not the whole of the Highlands, but merely the fringe of the great Highland fastnesses, wildish and remote, further north. The Trossachs are the great massive slopes west of Loch Achray, between that and Loch Katrine, in a dell of woodland and cliff .’” Fiona looked up. “It is a noble and picturesque scenery. No wonder it is so popular, not only due to Sir Walter but for its own spectacular beauty.”
“You must make some sketches of the scenery, dear,” Lady Rankin said. “I would like a visual memoir of what we see today.”
“My little skill could not do justice to the subject, madam, but I will try.”
James looked around as well. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Lord Eldin is opening a hotel somewhere in the area. Auchnashee, he called it.”
“I know the place,” Elspeth said. “An old castle ruin on the western shore of Loch Katrine. Lord Eldin has a good deal of work ahead of him if he thinks to establish a hotel there.”
“He has the funds for it, and it is a good location, popular with tourists, I would think,” Fiona said.
“Does this road go all around the loch?” Lady Rankin asked.
“It ends near the loch,” Elspeth said. “Once we go through the pass of Achray, we will come near the loch. Carriages can go no further from that point without endangering the horses and even the passengers. There is a mountain track along the side of the loch, and a wide heath, perfect for a vigorous walk if you feel up to it.”
“I had no idea the area was so rustic. I thought it was ready for tourists to simply see without having to heave about like mountaineers.” Sighing indignantly, Lady Rankin thrust out her considerable bosom and fanned herself with the little book of poetry.
“We can hire ponies or walk,” James suggested. “And there should be boats.”
“The ferryman, Mr. MacDuff, lives in a cottage by the lochside and has a little inn. He hires boats to tourists,” Elspeth said. “He will take us round, and his neighbor rents ponies if you care to do that. Mrs. MacDuff could prepare luncheon for us at the inn, though Mrs. MacKimmie sent baskets of food along, and there will be plenty for all. We can explore together or on our own.”
“I would like to explore on foot,” James said. Elspeth nodded, aware that he meant to climb up the mountainside and look for caves.
