Chapter Twenty
Rory pulled up in front of the castle. The conversation with Callum and his mother the other day had made him rethink his feelings towards Bo. Certainly, she had come across as rude and spiky. But if he saw it from her point of view, she had had quite a scary start; she was a newcomer and she was out of her depth. If anything, maybe he was the rude one? With that in mind, he had decided to drop by with an invitation. Plus, the last time he had been in the pub, Mari had suggested that Clem was a bit isolated up in the castle, with only Miss Farano for company. He felt even more contrite. The poor lassie must be feeling really lonely and vulnerable up here all on her own.
Even before he turned the engine off, he could hear the music blasting out of the windows. He was amazed the birds hadn’t taken to wearing earplugs. Maybe it was Miss Farano he should be feeling sorry for, rather than Bo. What a din. He knocked on the front door, but decided that was an exercise in futility, so he turned the handle and entered; at least he knew that Clementine must be at home. Who else would be this loud? Maybe this was a bad idea? He couldn’t remember meeting anyone else much like her. Maybe it was just how they were in London, but her ability to just say what was on her mind was almost alarming. He liked the honesty of it; he just wondered if she had any filtering processes at all. And she seemed determined to behave exactly how she liked without any consideration for others. Did this mean she was a free spirit or arrogant? All his earlier concerns came flooding back. Either way, he would try to behave in a neighbourly fashion and let her know about the dance.
From the large hallway he went in search of the music. Looking through the door was a remarkable sight. Ruacoddy ballroom had been filled with mannequins and most of them were fully clothed in all sorts of outfits. Officers’ uniforms, dinner jackets, hunting pinks, ballgowns, wedding dresses, kaftans, bikinis, clowns, cowboys and sou’westers. Weaving in and out of these, dancing and jumping to the music was Bo. She was in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, barefoot and whooping and singing out loud to the music. Her hair was tied back in two long plaits that were spinning out to the side as she danced around the room. She would grab a scarf from one mannequin, spin it around then leave its embrace and throw the scarf around the next mannequin. As she turned, jumping and chanting in time to the music, she spotted Rory and with a huge grin she beckoned him to come and join her. Damn him but he just might, her joy was that infectious. But as he took a step forward, her face collapsed into a scowl as she looked over his shoulder. Turning, he realised that Miss Farano had come to stand behind him. Startled, he jumped. The music had concealed her approach and now she was standing too close and looking as cross as Bo. Suddenly there was silence as she killed the music.
‘Yes?’ snapped Bo.
Uncertain how to proceed between the two angry women, Rory waved at Otto to speak first. She gave him a curt nod then glared at the young girl.
‘Lady Clementine, I would be grateful if you could remember to close the door if you wish to play your music. I have a migraine.’ Turning to Rory she added, ‘And please, Mr Gowan, in future, knock rather than just wandering into a private residence.’ And with that she headed back upstairs.
Rory watched as Clem strode over to a music centre and turned the volume up a further.
Pausing, he wasn’t sure what to do next.
‘Are you also going to tell me to turn my music down? It’s like living in a retirement home!’
Lady Clementine looked like she wanted to hurl something at him. Her previously effervescent expression was now shuttered and scowling. And Rory was once again on the back foot. Her changes in temper were like lightning and it seemed that she had just suggested that he was a geriatric again? She paused and sighed deeply.
‘Sorry. That was rude of me. I haven’t even thanked you for finding my necklace. You have no idea what it means to me.’
As she smiled up at him, it felt like the sun had come out and Rory was suddenly overwhelmed. Clearing his throat he wondered if he was wasting his time. He was feeling things for this lassie and they seemed totally unreciprocated.
‘There’s a ceilidh on next week and I thought you might enjoy it?’ And when she looked at him blankly he explained that a ceilidh was a night of music and dancing. Before he could get any further and explain that it wasn’t one hundred per cent lame, she interrupted him and said yes, smiling broadly.
‘Is it like country dancing? Should I wear a skirt? Will there be a DJ? When does it start?’ After a flurry of questions it was clear to Rory that she was probably desperate for a change of scene.
‘Would you like me to pick you up?’
Clem looked surprised at his offer and then refused quickly. Thanking him, she offered to walk him to the front door, and as she said goodbye he realised that she hadn’t even offered him a drink. She really was lacking in any feminine graces. Janet would never have been so remiss.
As he drove off, thoughts of good manners were quickly replaced with the memory of her dancing with her mannequins and he began to whistle in time to the music.
***
Clem skipped back to the ballroom, then closing the doors behind her, she closed the windows and turned the music down. It hadn’t occurred to her that her music could be heard up on the third floor, this castle was immense.
A dance sounded like fun. Maybe she’d meet someone? Her life was beginning to pick up; maybe it was time for a little romance as well? Grabbing her sketchbook, she could see the designs for Mari’s wedding dress were coming on beautifully. In fact the past fortnight had been fantastic. She and Miss Otto had reached a sort of truce and she was now implementing Clem’s requests. The two women would speak in the morning, but that was it. Their relationship had moved to professional but certainly not friendly. In Clem’s eye their arranged marriage was holding up and that was good enough for now.
Following Clem’s instructions, Miss Farano was in charge of getting a building inspection crew in to look at various quotes for repairs. The staff were being given more tasks and more pay. Ari had wanted Miss Farano to be paid a salary with her rent being deductible. Miss Farano had refused and said she was happy to work for nothing, rent free. It had been an uncomfortable sticking point, but for the sake of harmony, Ari had not insisted and told Clem that that would be fine for now. She also told Clem to stress to Miss Farano that for now was as far as it went and would be reviewed in the future.
But the best part of the fortnight had been her call to the VA, which had resulted in a very excited conversation with her old mentor as they arranged details of the exhibition. She had one hell of a lot to do over the next three months, but so long as she didn’t sleep, she felt fairly confident of pulling it all off.
And now she was off to a gig. Laughing, she knew she was ready to begin. She always started a new project the same way. She would line up some bhangra that would take her straight back to being a child in Bhupi Aunty’s house, sorting out buttons and sewing on beads. That was where it all started, and as soon as the music began she was ready to go. Walking over to her fabrics bay she pulled out a roll of oyster silk, placing it at one end of the cutting table, and threw it down the length with a huge flourish. She waited until the fabric had settled and then smoothed it out with her hands, leaning across the table. When she was finally happy that the silk was in line and completely flat, she began to pin out her pattern. As she worked, she began to think about her collection ahead. Her collection that she had designed for Symeon had been clever but ultimately commercial, this was going to be something else entirely. She wanted to play with the fabrics and play with notions of ‘them and us’; there may be some commercial fashions emerging from it but that wasn’t what she wanted to show. She wanted to say something. As each pin pierced the fabric another idea came to mind and Clem spent as much time pinning as she did sketching as the ideas flowed thick and fast.