Page 77 of A Rogue in Twilight
“Look. This painting has fairies riding through it.” Fiona stepped closer.
Charlotte shoved between Elspeth and James to gaze at the picture. “Very pretty, though it might be nicer in a bedroom or a parlor than in here. Perhaps you could move it if I chose a good spot for it upstairs, Struan.”
“I like it here,” he answered. “Our grandmother was fond of it. And Miss MacArthur’s father was the artist.”
“Truly father?” Charlotte looked at Elspeth with surprise. “Then your family will want to have it back when Struan House is sold.”
“You are selling Struan?” Wide-eyed, she met his gaze, silvery eyes distressed.
“Not yet,” he said, frowning.
“He wants to be rid of the place, and one can hardly blame him, a drafty old house so far from the city.” Charlotte tucked her hand in his elbow. “He has many responsibilities in Edinburgh, and this house needs attention, unless we—er, he—wants to spend a good part of the year in the Highlands.”
“I may do that.” With a stiff smile, he moved away from Charlotte, who seemed oblivious so often to what he said and did when it did not meet her expectation.
“Lord Struan, would you truly sell this grand old place?” Sir Philip asked in a jovial tone as he came toward them with Lady Rankin on his arm. “Then I might want to buy it myself.”
“I am sorry I missed tea, but I needed to rest,” James’s aunt said, grasping his hand for a moment. “Miss MacArthur, how nice to see you again. Do you live nearby?”
“I do, my lady. My grandfather and I live down in the glen at Kilcrennan.”
“Is your grandfather the weaver?” Sir Philip asked. “I have kilts made from Kilcrennan cloth. Fine stuff!”
“Weaving! Do you employ small children in your factory?” Charlotte asked.
“Good heavens, Miss Sinclair,” James muttered.
“Just myself when I was younger,” Elspeth said, mischief glinting in her eyes. “I am a weaver too,” she added. James noticed Charlotte and Lady Rankin raise their eyebrows at that. “We weave the cloth on handlooms, like my great-grandfather and his father before him, and my grandmothers too.”
“Mr. MacArthur is an old-school artisan, and Miss MacArthur is very gifted in the craft also.” James spoke with pride, hoping they heard it.
“Highland weaving is an ancient craft, a true art form in the Highlands,” Fiona added. “Tartan cloth is quite popular now, so they must be very busy. We can thank Sir Walter Scott for reviving a sense of Scottish character and heritage. People are keen for anything Scotch these days,” she added.
“It seems that way.” James silently blessed his sister for her praise.
“You genuinely appreciate the Highlands, Miss MacCarran,” Elspeth said.
“I do. I love being in Highlands. James and I spent some wonderful holidays here at Struan House.”
“Fiona now works with a Highland society, teaching English to native Gaelic speakers,” James explained to Elspeth.
“Wonderful! Since you were both here as children, I am surprised we did not meet sooner,” Elspeth said.
I wish we had,James thought. His childhood might have been happier. “We were here for a fortnight once or twice a year. We wandered the hills with our grandfather, Lord Struan. But we did not meet many local children that I recall.”
Elspeth nodded, about to speak, when Mrs. MacKimmie returned to clear the tea table. The servants had not yet returned from fleeing for the fairy riding, so the woman had more work than usual. James handed her his empty cup with quiet thanks.
“Mr. MacKimmie told Philip and I that there are fairies out in your garden,” Lady Rankin said. “I would love to see them. Little garden figurines, I suppose he meant.”
“Och,MacKimmie likely meant our real fairies,” Mrs. MacKimmie said, looking up. Lady Rankin gasped to hear from her, while James smiled, glancing at Elspeth.
“Oh aye, fairies are abundant here,” Elspeth said with a little smile.
He enjoyed the stunned silence that followed, and smiled to see Charlotte’s gaping expression.
“Part of the charming folderol of the Highlands,” he told them. “I did not believe it myself when I came here, but the Highlands are making a believer even out of me.”
“Fascinating,” Fiona said. “Has anyone truly seen fairies here?”
