Chapter 21
The next day, Ellie told Struan, “I’m going to the far school in a little while. Won’t you come with me?”
“No one there wants to see me,” he muttered.
“I thought we slayed that dragon,” she said.
“I talk about you there, and everyone wants to see you. You’re the most important person around for miles and miles.
Plus they respect you, and they’re curious about you, and they need to know you’re part of this community.
Your father and mother were involved with local folk, yes? ”
“Of course.”
“Then follow their example.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You know exactly what to say to get me to do what you like.”
“I’m learning.” She smiled, then leaned forward to kiss him. “Speaking of you doing what I like…”
As it turned out, they were a bit late in leaving the house, but both were content when they did. They rode, Ellie having learned the basics by now. The hostler had found an extremely staid black mare for her, who went by the unimaginative name of Midnight.
Being at the school wasn’t horrible, not at first. He met Mrs Hardie, and the other teachers at the school, and several of the older students.
They all greeted Ellie with smiles and familiar, friendly words.
Everyone had obviously been told to be on their best behavior for the master, but children are naturally curious, and soon he’d been invited to join some boys in a game while Ellie stayed and chatted with the headmistress.
Struan was actually having a good time, which of course meant that he had to be punished for daring to experience joy.
The school was in a state of controlled chaos the whole afternoon, with girls and boys running about, charging through the doorway to go inside or out, according to some obscure pattern that only the children seemed to understand.
The adults spoke as best they could amid the happy chatter and occasional excited shrieks of children.
Seeing them in there, the girls in identical new outfits made from Elspeth’s purple fabric, made him laugh.
The boys wore black, but if it was possible to have a purple-tinted black, that’s what the shade was.
The new outfits guaranteed that it was all but impossible to differentiate one child from another.
He turned around when he felt a child careen into the back of his legs, and said with mock seriousness, “Watch your step or you’ll end up like me.”
The young boy had fallen onto his seat and looked up at him with wide eyes. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.
“I was only joking,” said Struan to the boy.
The boy took a deep breath, and then screamed.
As if suddenly inhabited by a whirlwind, the boy jumped up and spun around, rushing out of the building, screaming his head off the whole way.
Struan knew exactly why he did it. Though he made no outward sign, he felt his chest constricting and his whole body shutting up.
Elspeth noticed, of course. And she said something, of course.
“Struan? Are you all right? That boy was very rude.” Elspeth’s eyes were wide, her posture stiff.
“Aye, he’s more like a feral cat than a boy,” Mrs Hardie added, her hands on her hips. “I’ll fetch him in and make him apologize. I assure you, sir, we strive to teach manners to all our children. But I’ll admit that some take to the lessons faster than others.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Struan. “I must go. Elspeth, you may stay if you wish.”
He didn’t wait for her reply before he strode out of the building, his eyes straight ahead as he made his way to his horse. The other children continued to play around him, seemingly undeterred by his presence. He mounted up as quickly as he could, and rode off toward home.
It had been a mistake to come. Elspeth was far too optimistic that he could resume anything resembling a normal life.
He knew it wasn’t her fault that the child had been scared of him, but he couldn’t help thinking that his first mistake was listening to Elspeth, or rather, believing her words that the excursion would be good for everyone.
It clearly hadn’t been good for the boy.
As for the other children, well, they were simply a bit better at pretending.
The headmistress had announced that she taught them how to behave.
But he thought back to the carefully averted eyes and the shy voices and the way that very few of the children dared to come near him, and knew that his appearance was upsetting to them.
He would avoid the far school in the future.
It was for the best. No one needed to see him, as long as the income from the mines and the fields kept coming in, and everyone was paid properly.
It was foolish for him to think that he had a place among them anyway.
He was to the manor born. They were common folk.
At best, they viewed him as a tolerable landlord.
He certainly wasn’t a friend or part of the community.
He wasn’t one of them before, and he certainly wasn’t now, not after what happened to him.
On the way, he hesitated, then rode onto the hill closest to the coast, the one he’d shown Ellie before. Today it was grey and sullen and cold, not at all suitable for lounging and looking over the water.
But it suited his mood. Dismounting, he sank down slowly onto the long grass and stared out over the distant water.
The wind flattened the grass, pushing it down in a pattern that mimicked the waves of the ocean.
It whipped his hair around his head, sending the ends into his eyes.
He blinked away the irritation. Putting his hands down, he felt the grass, each stem rough under his fingers.
The popular conception of meadow grass as soft and green and lush was a product of other lands, those with more gentle climates.
Here in the Highlands, the plants covering the moors were tough and unaccommodating.
They had to be in order to survive the endless wind, the harsh winters, and the roving sheep and cattle that sought out anything tender enough to consume.
No wonder that the edge of each grass felt like a blade.
The grass wasn’t even green up here. It was a dull grey-brown, half bleached by the sun.
It wasn’t that Scotland didn’t have rain.
It had more than its share. But the rocky landscape and the steep slopes meant that the water all seemed to roll down into ravines, and then out again to the sea.
It was as if some magical creature, capable of bestowing grace, briefly visited the land, and found it unworthy.
But this was Struan’s land, so here he would stay. He didn’t mind that the view was uninspiring, and he didn’t mind that he was alone. If anyone else was here, they would insist on talking. Struan didn’t want to talk. No amount of talking would change anything.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, other than that it was long enough for the wind and the damp to make him cold.
But when his horse nickered, he realized that someone had ridden up.
Looking back, he saw Ellie on Midnight, and he suppressed the urge to tell her to go away.
He knew she meant well. Elspeth always meant well.
She dismounted awkwardly and strode toward him, stopping a few paces away. She looked down at him with an expression on her face that he couldn’t interpret. After a moment of hideous silence, she turned and walked back toward her horse.
Struan exhaled. So he didn’t have to speak after all. His own expression and his posture had sent the message. A part of him wished that Ellie didn’t understand what he meant. But he couldn’t blame her for leaving him. It wasn’t as if he was someone people wanted to be around.
Elspeth had reached her horse, but instead of finding a way to remount and ride off, she unbuckled something behind the saddle, and walked back toward him, her arms now burdened with the bulky shape.
She shook it out and he realized that she had brought a whole blanket along with her.
She draped it around him, and the thick, heavy wool cut the wind to almost nothing.
He was about to grunt a thank-you when she sank gracefully down beside him.
She lifted one edge of the blanket and tucked herself under it, nestling against his side.
Without thinking, he slid one arm around her waist to hold her close.
She didn’t speak, she didn’t even look at him. Instead, she gazed out at the sea, regarding the endless ocean and the relentless rhythm of the waves with calm eyes. He glanced at her profile, and found it soothing to see her refined features with the wild landscape in the background.
He knew he should say something, anything, but he didn’t know how to begin. He wondered if Ellie was angry at him. But if Ellie was angry, she wouldn’t have brought him a blanket. She wouldn’t have sought him out at all. And yet here she was, sitting silently next to him, watching the grey sea.
The only thing different from before was that she was there. And then he realized that was the difference. He’d been alone, and now he wasn’t. He didn’t have to say anything. The fact that she was there was enough.
“You didn’t have to come after me,” he said.
“Yes I did. Would you like to have an argument about it?” she offered.
“No. I’m grateful you found me.”
She smiled at him. “You found me first.”
So he had. But she still didn’t know how he found her. And he could never tell her the truth of it.
He tried to put the conundrum from his mind.
After going back home, they dined as usual, then they retired to the parlor as usual.
He still found the ritual of just sitting in a room with his wife to be as comforting as it was.
They both read books or letters, enjoying the end-of-day calm.
Ellie often asked him things about the house or the property or the land surrounding it, and he was surprised by how much he remembered from his younger days.
Both his parents, and several friends and neighbors loved telling stories, and he must have soaked them up.
Ellie usually had something to say no matter the topic, often some idea for how to improve something.
She seemed to have a knack for solving problems.
Just then, Ellie yawned. She slid her thin leather shoes off and dropped them to the carpet, before curling up next to him.
“Rather messy, for you,” he said.
“I’ll put them on again before we go up,” she promised.
He looked down at the shoes and noticed a folded letter on the floor. He bent to pick it up. “Look. This must have fallen off the table. It’s a letter from Mairi, must have arrived today. Would you like to read it?”
“Yes! But you read it to me, please. I’m too tired to stare at handwriting now.”
“You’re sure? What if your sister has secrets she doesn’t want me to know?”
“What secrets could Mairi know?” Ellie asked, giggling at the thought. “If she learns a thing, she tells the world that instant.”
“Whether the world wants her to or not,” Struan muttered. “The letter begins, ‘Dear Pest.’ Must she call you that?”
“It’s said with love.”
“I prefer Ellie. All right, dear pest.” He began to narrate, “‘The household is utterly consumed with preparations for Averill’s Assault Upon Society. If I cared for society more, I’d feel badly for them all.
But I have instead absented myself from the field, and taken refuge elsewhere.
’” Struan snorted, and then added his own commentary, “Best thing she could do, actually. Retreat isn’t cowardice when it’s strategic. ”
“Go on,” Ellie ordered.
He continued reading, “‘You remember meeting Miss Catriona Ross at the wedding. We have spent some time together since, both at meetings of the League and beyond. Catriona spends much of her time restoring what she can of her damaged home. The fire was limited, but the smoke ruined most everything.’”
“Oh, I should write back with my method for getting the smell of smoke out of fabric. I’m sure much of the curtains and upholstery are salvageable!”
Struan laughed. “You don’t need to clean everyone’s house, you know.”
“But I like to improve things. It gives me such a feeling of accomplishment to see that my actions have transformed something from broken to mended.”
He gave her a considering look. “Not just because you think someone else will approve of it, or to earn your keep?” She tried to be the perfect daughter and housekeeper for her father, and that had resulted only in him handing her off like a used cart.
“No, I’d do it even if I were all alone,” she said. “I think that one of the things I love best is to leave the world more beautiful than I found it.”
“Well, you do that just by existing.”
She blushed. “Keep reading.”
“‘Catriona and I have decided to write a series of essays in the hopes that a newspaper will be brave enough to print them. If not, I may start my own newspaper. Catriona has been preparing speeches as well. Did you know she was once shot at during a speech? She says it wasn’t actually related to the speech itself, but I think she should consider it a badge of honor. You must meet her aunt Tacita, who is not in our League, but is delightful. Time spent at Cat’s smoky home is much nicer than time spent at our own.
Only once was there an interruption. The men who were at the wedding—your husband’s compatriots—called for a visit.
Apparently Mr MacPhearson asked Cat to marry him, but she refused. ’”
“That’s true,” Struan added, seeing her astonished expression. “Thane already proposed to her, and she told him no.”
“But he asked again?”
“He told us that he’ll ask until she either says yes or tells him to go to hell.”
“Oh,” Ellie said, eyes wide. “What else does Mairi report?”
He looked back at the letter.“‘…though it is apparent that she does not discourage his advances! I think she loves him. He is fairly handsome, I admit, and his handsomeness is better than Mr Shaw’s, because that man knows how he looks, and it makes him insufferable. Mr MacKenzie and Mr Buchanan, however, are pleasant.’”
At this Struan had to stop reading to recover from laughing. “I wish I could read this to Calan.”
“That’s Mr Shaw?”
“Yes. She’s exactly right. He’s used to women falling all over him, so to be in a room where neither lady is besotted must have been confusing.”
“Perhaps it will build character,” Ellie said. “What else?”
He read silently for a moment, then said, “Mairi tried to smuggle a dog into the house, but your father heard it barking and had it removed. One of the footmen took it home.”
“Mairi loves animals. She can’t stand to see one suffer. I’d wager it was the brown dog in the mews with the bad back paw.”
“Correct,” he said, still reading. “You remember everything. Do you miss your old home?”
Ellie pondered a moment, then shook her head. “No. I thought I’d miss it more, but I don’t. Isn’t that funny?”
The way she smiled at him, with such open innocence, he didn’t think it was funny at all.