27. Edie #3
Opposite, Anna raises her brows slowly, as if she’s taking mental notes.
I take a sip of wine I don’t want. My cheeks are hot, and I swallow it back with an audible gulp.
I sneak a sideways glance at Rory and realise his eyes are still on me and for a second, it’s like I’ve been pinned in place.
For a second I forget everything. The NDA, Anna, the rewilding project, the prospect of my reputation circling the drain – all of it.
“I’m sure she’s brilliant,” says Jamie, breaking the tension. “No offence, Edie, but I’ll have to take my brother’s word for it, under the circumstances.”
And with that the mood shifts. I watch Anna shift her focus from Rory to Jamie with practised ease. Gregor comes in with another course and Rory’s eyes meet mine for a moment as if he’s checking in on me.
I’m left with something warm and unfamiliar under the humiliation I feel .
I don’t know how Anna does it – how she always seems to know the moment to strike, and then follows it up with something breezy so I’m left wondering if I’ve imagined it all.
“Come on,” she says, looping her arm through mine as we leave the dining room stuffed full of dessert wine and chocolate bombe. “We haven’t climbed the turret yet, and I’m dying to know what’s up there. It’s the perfect time to do it.”
“In the dark, when it’s howling with torrential rain and wind outside?” I hang back, dubious.
She tugs my arm, laughing. “Exactly. It’s got to be haunted. Let’s go and see if we can find any of the Kinnaird ancestors floating about.”
I let her lead me in the direction of the narrow, twisting staircase because despite my fear I’m still too keyed up from dinner to think about sleeping.
Because Rory’s words, “Edie is an excellent writer” are echoing round and round my head on a loop, and I can’t quite tell if it was real or I imagined it all.
The turret stairs are worn from hundreds of years of footsteps, and the walls smell of cold and damp.
It’s tucked into a corner of the house like it grew there by magic, although in fact it was the remnant of the original building, and the rest of the house was rebuilt around it nearly two centuries ago.
The steps are narrow, and I keep bumping my shoulder as we climb up and up, Anna’s voice floating down to me with every echoing footstep.
At the top there’s a heavy wooden door which sticks. It takes both of us to shove it with our shoulders before it gives way and we step into a circular room. Anna opens the window and a gust of wind rushes in, making the frame rattle.
“Careful,” I say, grabbing it as it threatens to crash against the wall. “If it breaks it’ll cost about a million pounds to fix, I bet.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Anna looks outside and I stand by her side, feeling the warmth of her shoulder against mine as the spots of rain land on our skin. “And they’ve given you the keys to the castle. All that access, all those documents. They must really trust you.”
I clench my hands. My palms are sweating, and my stomach feels like lead.
Meanwhile below us the estate stretches out in every direction.
The loch curves out into the distance, still and dark under the tall pine woods.
I can just make out the solar lights which mark the entrance to the boathouse.
The moon hangs overhead, casting a pale glow over everything and catching the glass on the long greenhouse roof.
Somewhere in the distance there’s music – Jamie’s speakers, perhaps, or ghosts. I shiver at the thought of it.
“I get it,” Anna says, turning to me. “I really do.”
I breathe in the cool damp pine-scented air and say nothing for a long moment, letting myself imagine what it would be like to be custodian of all of this.
To belong here, and to know it was home.
The beautiful pedigree horses in the stables, the priceless art hanging on the walls of every room.
A walled kitchen garden and a huge glasshouse where you can stroll every day and select something delicious to eat.
And the huge fires burning a welcoming blaze in the grates all year round…
Anna puts a finger to her lips for a moment and frowns. “Just don’t get taken in by it all, Edie.”
I glance over at her. “Taken in?”
Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re billionaires. They’ve never wanted for anything in their lives. Never will. They don’t know what it feels like to need something. You’ll forget that. And then it’ll hurt when you remember.”
I give a weak laugh. “You make it sound like I’m—what? Falling for the castle?”
“Falling for the castle. Falling under the spell of all this. Falling for the job. Falling for—” She raises a brow and gives me a look. “Falling for him .”
Her tone is light, but it hits me harder than I expect.
“I’m not,” I say, and the words sound brittle and hollow even to my ears.
Anna arches a brow. Maybe I’ve created something out of nothing—I’ve been doing it all my life. The words Rory said at dinner were just words, nothing more. Maybe I wanted to believe I mattered here, that I’d found a place after a lifetime of feeling on the outside of things.
“You’re the ghostwriter, Ede, not the story.” Anna’s voice is kind, which is more of a sting than her usual barbed comments. Her elbow brushes mine as she steps back.
I nod and don’t reply. The wind picks up and blows my hair across my face.
I close my eyes against it, and for the first time since arriving here at Loch Morven it hits me that this place – the castle, the warm acceptance of the staff who feel like friends – none of it is for me.
It’s a chapter in my life, nothing more.