Chapter Eleven #2
Soon the coachman turned the carriage onto the long drive that led to the castle.
In the darkness, she could see acres of lawns, meadowland, and gardens.
The castle was old indeed, its central tower high and blocky, flanked by two rectangular wings set with rows of windows, the whole blending medieval fortress and tidy modern symmetry.
“The original castle was the pele tower you see in the middle,” Evan said.
“It was built in the sixteenth century by an earlier Mackenzie of Kildonan. My great-grandfather added the wings to expand the space. The exterior needs repair, as some of the older stone walls are crumbling, and there is old plaster to be maintained. Time-consuming, but it must be done. I will have to inquire in the city for men to do the work.”
She was glad of a neutral topic. “I’m sure some local men could take care of it. You need not hire city men to come all the way up here.”
“True, though the workforce is less in the glen now. I will ask your brother to see if some local Highlanders can do the work.”
Guilt rising, she swallowed hard and only nodded.
The carriage crunched over the gravel drive toward the building. Catriona smoothed her skirt and the plaid shawl she wore over her shoulders, then straightened her shoulders.
Evan cleared his throat. “I should have mentioned earlier, but it slipped my mind. I have some guests arriving in a few days.”
“Guests?” she repeated. “Here?”
“A cousin and some friends plan to tour the Highlands, and they will spend a little time here, aye. They intend to do some hillwalking, perhaps some mountaineering.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Tourists? And mountaineering?”
“Aye, this group is rather keen on it.”
“How—nice,” she said mildly. Were these also the ones Grant mentioned, who intended to look at the castle and lands with a view to purchasing?
“It is unfortunate for you to have to welcome guests so soon, but you will have help, and I doubt we’ll see much of them once they set out to explore the glen.”
Explore the glen for purchase, she thought. She turned her face away in dismay.
“They are climbing enthusiasts. I went up the Alps with some of them. And with luck, madam,” he went on, “you need only bother with them at breakfast and perhaps a dinner or two. They will have a busy schedule.”
“It is no bother. Will you climb with them?”
“I had planned to, before—all this. You are welcome to join us if you like.”
“Perhaps.” She could hardly think about climbing for enjoyment.
Minutes from now she would face the castle staff, and she dreaded the thought of playing hostess to Evan’s cousins and friends, along with taking in a spate of congratulations, or looks of pity or judgment, regarding their new marriage.
She could weather that, but meeting prospective buyers interested in taking even more of Glen Shee was almost too much to bear.
“Or if you want to plead a headache until you are more accustomed,” Evan said, “Lady Jean will be here for a few days, and she can play hostess.”
Pride stiffened her shoulders. “I rarely have a headache. I can do whatever is expected of me now.”
Realizing what else that implied, she felt herself blush.
She wanted so much to be in his arms again, and shut out the world as they had done before.
But now that desire conflicted with who he was, and her need to protect Finlay and the glen folk.
Her body and her mind had a distressing breach of interest.
Yet she desperately wanted this stranger, now her husband, who stood poised to bring more unhappy changes to the glen she loved.
The carriage drew to a stop at the entrance, and Catriona saw the castle’s large iron-studded central door open wide. A group of servants in neat uniforms filed out to gather on the terraced steps in the moonlight.
Evan exited the carriage and turned to hand her down to the ground. Her limbs trembled and her stomach rolled anxiously as she set foot and looked up at him, her eyes almost pleading in that instant for support.
“Welcome home, Countess. Hey, it will be fine,” he added quietly.
Home. She drew in a breath and was grateful for Evan’s bracing hand as they turned together toward the entrance.
*
As Evan began to introduce Catriona, he realized that although she did not know them personally, names and some faces were likely familiar to her from the glen and her father’s kirk.
He turned her over to the care of Mrs. Baird, the housekeeper, for that brisk and busy lady to introduce the rest of the staff.
He listened carefully, scarcely knowing many of the staff either.
Mrs. Baird and her husband, the butler Robert Baird, had been at Kildonan since his boyhood.
But several others were new to him. Like the Bairds, the cook and head stableman were married, and some housemaids and grooms were offspring or kinfolk.
In addition, he saw enough resemblance among them that he dreaded being confused.
Catriona greeted each one graciously, taking their hands and repeating their names.
He followed her lead, and immediately names and faces stuck more securely.
The new countess was quickly earning appreciation and loyalty with her kind nature and genuine smile.
He could only hope to capture some of that warmth as an afterthought earl.
“My lady, are you Reverend MacConn’s daughter then?” asked one of the maids. As she laughed to admit it and promised not to preach, they warmed to her even more.
Evan smiled. He was learning from his countess already.
“Maggie and Deirdre, upstairs housemaids,” Mrs. Baird said as two pretty brown-haired girls smiled and curtsied.
“Beth is our downstairs lass, and Shona works in the kitchen.” The girls dipped one by one.
“Davey here and Allan too, see to the chores inside and outside. And our wee Robbie works in the stables.” The lanky youths, scrubbed clean, hats in hand, nodded solemnly.
“This is Mr. MacGillechallum, my lady,” Mrs. Baird went on. “Mr. Gillie runs the stables. His wife is our cook.”
“Gillie will do, aye,” MacGillechallum said, his voice deep, his hands rough and large as he doffed his hat. “Congratulations on your wedding, madam.” His eyes twinkled.
“Congratulations! Call me Gillie, or just Cook,” said his wife, a short, robust woman who strongly resembled the pretty housemaids as their mother. “And we know you, Lady Kildonan.” She added something in Gaelic.
Catriona took her hands and murmured a reply.
Evan had just a basic knowledge of Gaelic learned from his childhood nurse. He heard Mrs. Gillie thank Catriona, heard his bride mention that Finlay was happy to do it.
Puzzled, he leaned toward her. “So you do know some of them. An excellent start.”
She turned fiery pink. “We helped Mrs. Gillie’s elderly parents up in the high hills.”