Page 36 of Laird of Secrets
“You do have secrets to protect, lad,” Ranald said. “We must make sure the cache of whisky is safely moved and sold. And there is fairy brew yet to be made this season. The time is coming when you must go up the mountain and start another batch of the brew. As laird, it is your obligation.”
“The fairy agreement,” Dougal said quietly. Ranald and Fergus nodded, though Hamish rolled his eyes.
Sighing, Dougal gazed at the broad flank of the mountain that rose high over the glen. “We cannot risk too much interest in our glen just now. A Lowland teacher with a gauger brother, and with other kinsmen—one a viscount, another an earl building a hotel for tourists. A predicament.”
“Tourists!” Hamish grimaced.
“They may visit Glen Kinloch, since tourists are keen to see unspoiled, wild Scotland. And it is close to Loch Katrine, which has brought so much attention to the Highlands, thanks to poems by Scott.The Bard of the North.”
“Bah. I have heard of it. But I will not read such stuff as that,” Ranald said.
“I have, and did not like it much,” Hamish said.
“I read some,” Fergus said. “A lot of running about and rescues and fighting. A fine story. But our glen will not remain secret for long if tourists come up here.”
“I still say Kinloch could do worse than marry the teacher and keep her here. Get her promise to honor our secrets,” Ranald said. “The glen needs a teacher, the laird needs a wife, and the lass is bonny. A wife as smart as that one will keep him interested and happy, hey.”
“It is not that simple,” Hamish grunted. “An educated Lowland lady will not want a poor Highland laird with a small estate and a taste for free trading.”
“She could not find a finer lad or a finer home in Highlands or Lowlands,” Fergus replied.
Listening, Dougal glanced at the schoolhouse door again and heard laughter coming from inside. The children were enjoying their day. He felt a surge of regret, and at the same time, resolve. This had to happen.
He turned to face his uncles. “Tell her about the roof,” he decided. “And tell her the school must be closed until repairs are made. But first, let her have a few days to enjoy our bonny glen.”
* * *
Leaning her back against a sun-warmed boulder on the hill, Fiona studied her pencil rubbing to make sure she had captured the delicate imprint of an ancient arthropod, left in limestone eons ago. She slid the page into an envelope in her knapsack, then laid a fresh sheet of paper over another rock surface and rubbed it with graphite to capture an impression of another minuscule fossil.
Putting the things away, she walked across the brow of the hill, gazing out over glen and loch. The afternoon was cool and misty, and she had excused her students a little early, knowing that many had chores at home or in the fields. They had done good work that day, and she was willing to be flexible with lessons, as it would keep them content to return to school.
The extra time gave her a chance to do some hillwalking in daylight to search for fossil remains. She had promised her brother James to look for specific rock varieties, take notes, and sketch what she saw in order to help his research on the geological nature of antediluvian earth in the Scottish Highlands. Her knowledge of fossils dovetailed nicely with his research, and she often supported his work by sketching finds for him.
Identifying rocks and fossils was enjoyable and no trouble, but finding any trace of fairies, as required by her grandmother’s will, would be impossible. Still, armed with a notepad and Conte pencils, she hoped to find something that would meet the approval of the solicitor, Mr. Browne, and especially the scrutiny of Sir Walter Scott, her grandmother’s old friend. The late Lady Struan’s will had to be satisfied unless her brother could succeed in contesting it. That was doubtful too.
Heading across the breast of the hill, she kept the loch to her left as she went, allowing her to easily find her way back to Mary MacIan’s house. Seeing an outcropping of greywacke, she climbed toward it and knelt to study it.
She examined it closely, particularly interested in finding clusters of fossils and varieties of rock and minerals that could mingle in greywacke. Boulders were easy enough to explore, thrusting out of grassy turf and heather.
One small rock, small enough to fit in her hand, preserved a tiny impression of a trilobite. An ancient sea had left its traces even as high as these hills, she thought, reaching for her notebook to record the thought and make a sketch.
“That is a devil of an insect you have there,” said a voice behind her. Fiona jerked in surprise, turning to see Dougal MacGregor standing nearby. “Pardon, Miss MacCarran. I did not mean to startle you.”
“Good afternoon, Kinloch. I nearly threw a rock at you, I was that surprised,” she said with a half-laugh.
“And I am glad you did not.” He dropped to a knee beside her and glanced at the pages poking out of her knapsack. “Very nice drawings. Yours?”
“Yes. Some are drawings, and some are rubbings made over the stone. Those are arthropods,” she explained, as he looked at some of the pages. “The one in your hand is a trilobite—the devil of an insect that you mentioned. They were not exactly insects, but rather like very tiny crabs, little creatures floating about in the ancient seas. When they died, their bodies left impressions in mud, which over time became rock, preserving them forever.”
He nodded. “I have seen such things before, out in the hills. But I did not know what they were.” He glanced up, his eyes a piercing green. “Ancient sea? Here?”
“Some geologists believe that much of the earth was covered with water eons ago, including Scotland. Since we can find fossils of marine creatures and fish and shells, that proves the theory. My brother is studying the geological part of the puzzle.”
“Lord Struan is a scholar, then, not just of the peerage. A professor of natural sciences, you said?”
“Aye. Whenever I find good examples like these, I make sketches and rubbings to help in his research.”
“Unless you can haul the rock away directly for him,” he drawled, hefting her knapsack.
