Page 13 of A Rogue in Twilight
“We expected you later today, with the roads so muddy from the rains. But MacKimmie drives like the de’il sometimes, to be sure.”
“An interesting ride indeed. Mrs. MacKimmie, I must ask. What is that sound?”
“Oh, that? It’s our banshee. She’s glad to see the new laird, I suppose.”
“I came to Struan as a boy, but never heard about a banshee.”
“You weren’t the new laird then, were you. That’s why. I’ll take you to your rooms.” She led the way up the stairs.
On the top landing, Angus MacKimmie met them. “So you’ve brought out ourban-sithwith you, then.”
“Either that, or there are hinges or floorboards need repair,” James said. He spoke loudly enough that both MacKimmies might hear him.
“Aye, could be,” Mrs. MacKimmie said.
The upper corridor turned a corner at the far end, with several closed doors along cream-colored walls hung with paintings. A worn Oriental carpet ran the length of the hall, with a table here, a bench there. He had visited his grandparents here only a few times, for his guardian in boyhood, Lady Rankin, felt boys should be schooled and busy, not allowed to run about like Highland savages, so she had claimed.
He had rather wanted to run wild about the Highland hills. But that was long ago.
“It’s a very nice house,” he ventured.
“Aye, it is. I take care of repairs when I can, sir,” MacKimmie said. “I am your factor, caretaker, head groomsman and coachman, and your ghillie too, do you care to hunt or fish. Come find me for all of it.”
“I will, thank you. Struan House is quite impressive. A banshee is an old ghostly hag that prophecies death and disaster, is it not?”
“Some are,” Mary MacKimmie replied. “The Struan banshee is the sort that belongs to a house and a family. A fairy spirit who makes herself known over deaths, births and important things in the family. Today she marked the arrival of the laird, so she may go silent for a while.” She smiled. “Unless you should marry and have a child, and so on.”
“A sort of weather glass for the family,” James said. “I thought fairies were pleasant, harmless wee sorts. Small wings, delicate beings perched on flowers and such.”
“There are many kinds of fairies in Scotland. You will learn more when you read Lady Struan’s pages. You came here to do that, I think?”
“I did,” he said.
Angus departed down the stairs, and the housekeeper led James to the laird’s rooms, which included a bedroom, sitting room, dressing room, and bathing room. He walked past the large, carved bed with its embroidered hangings to look at the view from the windows of mountain crests against a vast, rainy sky.
“Handsome view. And excellent rooms,” he pronounced.
“You’ll want to explore the rest of the house of course. Downstairs is a library and the study where Lady Struan worked. The parlor is on that level too, along with the dining room. Kitchens are below stairs and lead out to the back gardens. Normally high tea is at half-five, and serves for supper too, unless you request otherwise.” Mrs. MacKimmie went to the door. “If you like, I will set a midday tea for you in the parlor in a few minutes, since it is past luncheon.”
“Thank you, Mrs. MacKimmie. That would be excellent. Oh, I am expecting guests from Edinburgh in a fortnight or so. They plan a Highland tour, and will stay for a few days as guests here.”
“I will ready the rooms, then.” She smiled, nodded. She seemed a patient and easygoing sort. He felt a sense of relief, not knowing what to expect.
He had planned to work on his grandmother’s manuscript until Lady Rankin and the others arrived. Once they departed, he intended to finish the work and return to Edinburgh to resume teaching. He had little time to waste.
The housekeeper paused at the door. “Sir, there is summat you should know. Just now, we have few staff. Only myself and Angus, a groom, and two housemaids, local girls. Last week two girls arrived by post-chaise from Edinburgh, sent here by Lady Rankin.” She stiffened a little.
“My aunt sent them to be helpful.” Last week James had assured Lady Rankin that the Highland staff at Struan House were surely capable. But she did not trust Highland servants to keep a house the way she liked. “Is that sufficient staff for Struan House?” He had no idea.
“Normally, aye, but…well, ‘tis near time for the Fairy Riding. A local tradition,” she explained. “The fairies go riding this time of year. They ride over the lands of Struan because these lands once belonged to them, so legend says.”
“Why would the household staff be reduced because of this, uh, festival?”
“Not a festival, sir. It is a time when we keep away from the hills to allow the fairy riding to take place. Your grandmother and grandfather would close up the house then, and would not allow hunting parties to hire it in later years. Already some fairies have been sighted, I hear.”
“Sighted?” he asked, confused.
“Oh aye, some see them. But ‘tis unlucky to be about when the Good Folk ride over Struan lands. You do not want to see them, sir.”
