Chapter 13
After passing a thoroughly dismal day and a half whining, complaining, muttering snide remarks, and generally making everyone’s lives as miserable as possible, Harry finally realized that he’d been backed into a corner by Cora and that he had no choice but to do as she said.
He grudgingly agreed to make the trip, then made a great show of asking a series of thoroughly insulting questions regarding what accommodations he should expect in Scotland—whether he should, for example, “pack additional warm clothes as the Scottish were too primitive to have discovered the secrets of fire.” That sort of thing.
Cora rolled her eyes and went along, answering his questions good-naturedly.
She did her best to refrain from making cutting comments of her own.
Harry had only just been pacified into agreeing to this trip, and she didn’t want to rouse his temper all over again and make him change his mind.
There had already been more than enough strife between them, and although she had done all she could to take it in stride, the truth of the matter was that quarreling with her brother upset her greatly.
She hated the idea that he had truly changed so much from the time they were children and had evolved from a concerned sibling into a berating and bullying one.
When she informed Cameron (leaving out the particulars regarding Harry’s attitude, of course), he was overjoyed. He immediately began to list the sights he couldn’t wait to show her and the family members he was eager to introduce her to.
Cora found that she was actually becoming immensely excited about the prospect of travel.
Matilda’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Cora began to believe that leaving the confines of the city might be good for her.
Being away from the stuffy obligations of the society crowd seemed as though it could be healthy and refreshing; it would give her a chance to clear her head a bit, perhaps, so that she might be better equipped to make this important decision involving her future and who she would spend it with.
“Once you see the magnificent hillsides of my homeland, you’ll wonder how you ever did without them!” Cameron assured her. “Do you enjoy riding?”
“I have been known to, yes, during our yearly visits to the countryside,” she replied with a smile. “In truth, I get so little practice at it that I cannot claim to be all that proficient.”
“We can work on that,” he laughed. “I will be only too happy to help you relearn.”
He sounded so genuinely joyful, so hopeful that the trip would ultimately go his way, that part of Cora couldn’t help wondering whether agreeing to this might have been a mistake after all.
What if he got his hopes too high, only for her to discover that living in Scotland did not suit her at all?
Would he be all the more devastated by her decision to return to London?
Would it, perhaps, have been better to simply concede that the whole thing wouldn’t work rather than give him false hope that it might?
She had no answers to these questions, but she supposed it was a bit too late to seriously contemplate them at that point.
She had committed fully to the journey, and there was no going back now, not without breaking the poor man’s heart and certainly not without leaving her to wonder for the rest of her life whether she had made the right decision.
As the day of the trip drew ever closer, Cora did all she could to push away anxious thoughts and simply consider it an adventure in travel.
Meanwhile, Matilda’s prediction came true, much to her amusement: Harry spent these days doing all he could to make his peers believe he had engineered the entire thing and that he was hugely optimistic regarding a future in which Cora might raise the next laird of a Scottish clan.
The other fellows at the club didn’t seem wholly convinced, and several of them looked at Harry askance, but to him, that was still preferable by far to letting them think he was being dictated to by his sister.
The truth of it was that Harry had never been a particularly polished liar, and the helpless desperation in his eyes was quite visible to all who bothered to pay attention.
Cora supposed she should have taken some small measure of satisfaction from watching him debase himself in such a fashion, but it only made her feel worse.
Why could he not simply be reasonable? Why did he always seem so tangled in his own machinations, like a clumsy spider stupidly stuck in its own web?
At last, the day arrived. Harry’s carriage was prepared, and he and Matilda stepped up into it, followed by Cora, Cameron…and Carstairs.
Yes, Cameron’s valet was accompanying them as well, it seemed.
Not to continue to service Cameron (who appeared relieved indeed that he would soon be back in his own country, where no one expected him to be constantly fussed over by a manservant).
No, he had agreed to join them at the behest of Harry, who didn’t fancy the idea of going without a valet during such a trip and did not feel it would be appropriate for him to force his own valet to go on this long journey into uncertain territory.
As such, he promised Carstairs a sizable sum indeed if the man would see to his needs during their time in Scotland.
Naturally, Carstairs had uttered several dry comments regarding what sort of untamed wilderness he was being expected to venture into, but the money he’d been promised swayed him, and so he girded himself accordingly and went into it with the proverbial stiff upper lip that the English were so famous for.
The trip took just over a week. Thankfully, the weather conditions proved to be generally favorable, so there were no worries about being stuck in the mud or anything of the sort.
They stayed at inns wherever they could, and once they’d crossed the border into Scotland, Cora could not help but notice that the taverns where they spent their nights became more quaint and rustic.
The people were largely ruddy-faced and cheerful, and the inns would often become loud indeed as the evenings progressed, with many rounds of ale being purchased and songs being sung at a full and boisterous volume.
Cora was wholly unfamiliar with these tunes and the bawdy tales that would often accompany them.
She was charmed and delighted by them, for the most part, and, along with Matilda, she was happy to get into the spirit of things.
Cameron appeared to be overjoyed at the sight of her having such a marvelous time in his country.
He taught her the local dances (which were both simpler and more vigorous than those practiced in the parlors and salons she was familiar with), and she even had her first taste of ale…
against the strenuous objections of her brother.
For his part, Harry generally passed such evenings upstairs in one of the rooms they had secured for the night, bemoaning his situation to the long-suffering Carstairs.
He had a perpetual headache (or pretended to, at any rate), and his temper was even shorter than usual, which he blamed on a lack of restful sleep.
Harry said the beds were too lumpy. Harry said the food was horrid.
Harry said the people were foul-smelling and obnoxious.
Harry even complained about the taste of the water until Matilda finally advised that he cease drinking it and dry up at once so they would no longer have to contend with his bickering and bellyaching.
This, at last, had the desired effect of quieting him, and he spent much of the remainder of the trip in sullen silence, staring miserably out the window of the carriage.
There were numerous times when his countenance was so utterly woeful that it seemed as though he might have preferred to be trampled beneath the conveyance rather than riding within it.
Then, finally, Cameron spotted something and nudged Cora, pointing out the window. “Look! There it is! We have arrived at last!”
Cora peered in the direction he indicated, and at first, she wasn’t entirely certain what she was looking at.
The huge dark shape against the horizon seemed to defy her very eyes; she had never seen a castle so grand and ancient outside of the illustrations in a storybook.
Its walls were tall and imposing, and its towers seemed to scrape the very clouds above it.
“It’s enchanting!” Matilda exclaimed. “What a place to call home! How were you raised inside of it without getting lost?”
Cameron seemed pleased by her excitement, but he kept looking to Cora’s face to determine whether she shared it.
She did…but it also frightened her a bit as well, the enormity of it. Matilda’s words hit close to home. Would she find herself overwhelmed within its long and twisted corridors? Would she be little more than a phantom flitting around inside?
Would she be lost to herself in such a place?
The thought of it sent a shudder through her, and Cameron, believing she was reacting to the temperature, which had dropped somewhat sharply since they’d begun to travel along the moors, laid a blanket over her shoulders.
She smiled at him appreciatively, doing her best not to let her discomfort show.
“It is indeed impressive,” she conceded. “I look forward to receiving the grand tour.”
“Good heavens,” Carstairs remarked, “how many servants are employed to keep such a vast place tidy?”
“Quite a few,” Cameron acknowledged with a wry grin. “No doubt you’re relieved not to be counted among their number, eh?”
The valet did not answer, but it was clear from his expression that this was quite true.
As the carriage neared the gates, they swung open, and Cora saw several people standing in the courtyard waiting. From their ages and the resemblance, Cora deduced that they must be Cameron’s family: four young women, a young man, and an older one who appeared to be the patriarch.
The moment the carriage came to a stop, Cameron opened the door and bounded out, embracing them warmly. “If you only knew how delighted I am to be home again!”
“Yes, and we are pleased by your return,” his father said, eyeing Cora, “even if the circumstances are, perhaps, not quite what we expected.”
Cameron introduced them each in turn: “Lady Cora, may I present my father, Laird Cawley Wallace…my brother, Logan…and my sisters, Edwina, Fionna, Ella, and Darina, with her husband, Fergus.”
Logan, Cawley, and Fergus bowed, and each of the girls offered a curtsy. Cora curtsied in return.
“Thank you for such a warm welcome. This is my brother Lord Harry, the Viscount Thornton…his wife Lady Matilda…and Carstairs, who has come to serve as Harry’s valet. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, all of you. Cameron has told me such glowing things about you.”
“Yes, and he has told us about you as well in his letters,” Cawley remarked.
“We are happy to offer our hospitality for as long as you choose to remain with us.” He turned to Cameron.
“While your siblings help our guests settle in, perhaps you would consent to join me in my study? It seems we have a great deal to discuss.”