Page 85 of A Rogue in Twilight
“You must make some sketches of the scenery, dear,” Lady Rankin told her. “I would like a visual memoir of what we see today.”
“My skill is inadequate to the subject, madam, but I will try.”
James looked out the other side of the coach. “Lord Eldin is opening a hotel near Loch Katrine. He called it Auchnashee.”
“I know that area,” Elspeth said. “Eldin has a good deal of work ahead of him if he thinks to open an establishment there.”
“He has the funds for it,” Fiona said.
“Does this road go all the way around Loch Katrine?” Lady Rankin asked.
“It ends near the loch,” Elspeth said. “After a while, carriages can go no further and we will need to walk. There is a good mountain track and a wide heath.”
“Walk! I had no idea the area was so rustic. I thought it was prepared for tourists.” Sighing indignantly, Lady Rankin thrust her considerable bosom outward and fanned herself with a little book of poetry.
“We can walk or hire ponies,” James suggested. “And there should be boats.”
“There is a ferryman who lives in a cottage there. He has a little inn and hires out boats,” Elspeth said. “He can take us around. We can have luncheon at the inn, though Mrs. MacKimmie sent baskets of food with us so we can explore on our own.”
“I am looking forward to it,” James said. Elspeth knew he was eager to hike up part of the mountain slope to look for a cave opening.
Fiona consulted her notes. “Ben Venue is a mountain that towers above the southwestern shore. There is a place called the Goblin’s Cave. How intriguing!”
“Goblin’s Cave?” James sat forward.
“Sir Walter mentions it in his poem.” Lady Rankin thumbed through her well-worn copy ofThe Lady of the Lake. She began to read.
By many a bard, in Celtic tongue/ Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung:
A softer name the Saxons gave/ And call’d the grot the Goblin-cave.
“A grotto? There is one at Struan House,” Elspeth said.
“My sister, Lady Struan, fancied herself an expert on fairies,” Lady Rankin said. “She said the grotto in her garden was modeled after one called a Goblin Cave.”
“I did not know that,” James said. “I would like to explore the original.” He exchanged a quick glance with Elspeth.
“Go looking for your little rocks, James,” Lady Rankin said. “I have no taste for hillwalking. A boat on the loch sounds just the thing. Fiona, come with me. I think we can persuade the others too. Miss MacArthur?”
“I would like to see the mountain and the cave,” Elspeth said.
“Miss MacArthur can come with me,” James said. “Perhaps your grandfather will act as our guide, while Mr. MacKimmie takes the others around.”
“Charlotte will want to go with you too,” Lady Rankin said.
“She is hardly dressed for hillwalking,” Fiona pointed out. “She will be safer and more comfortable in the boat.”
Elspeth glanced at the sky to see gray clouds rolling overhead and swirling around the peaks of the Trossachs. The wind wasbrisk and cool, the view wide and awe-inspiring. Feeling its elemental power, she drew a deep breath to take in that strength.
Fiona read aloud from the folded page. “Ben Venue has black and towering sides with a certain rich gloss to them, and a craggy dignity housing caves replete with legends. Why would the mountain appear glossy, James?”
He glanced toward the black mountain with its multiple peaks. “Deposits of mica, perhaps, or granite and crystal. I am interested to examine it.”
“I will leave that to you and Miss MacArthur as two brave souls.”
“You are no coward,” James told his twin, “but luxury of a boat would allow you to make sketches today.”
“For your sake, dear brother,” Fiona murmured, “I would be happy to do that.”
