Epilogue
A MONTH LATER
‘I’d like to begin by saying how lovely it is to have all of the Princesses of Balhennie present for the unveiling of this wonderful addition to our display, and our family heritage.’
James Balhennie stood at the front of the crowd of local people who had clustered into the library at Balhennie Castle. He wore a smart dark grey suit with a tie in the Balhennie tartan and a pocket square of the same fabric.
All of the Balhennie sisters were present, even Violet, who had come back for a few days before jetting off to Barcelona to a launch party for a new moisturiser.
Sorrel looked at all of them: Primrose, the teacher, who had cut her hair again and worn cargo trousers and a fleece to the castle, even though Catriona had told everyone to dress up for the occasion; Bluebell stood next to Sorrel, her arm through her older sister’s; Heather who wore a floral, floaty dress, her hair in careful ringlets; Blossom, there with Tom and their children, who Sorrel was just beginning to get to know; and Violet, in a dress that looked simple but draped across her body beautifully and was probably incredibly exclusive.
Catriona and Angus stood next to the sisters. Angus wore the traditional Balhennie tartan kilt – a dark green with a red and black stripe – with a smart jacket, white shirt, tie, and grey socks. Catriona wore a pencil dress in the same tartan.
Sorrel cast her eye over the crowd and thought how crazy it seemed now, to have once thought that she would cut herself off from her sisters forever. From her parents, who loved her.
She knew that now. She’d always known it, but her anger had got in the way. The hurt that she’d felt – understandable, reasonable hurt, that had injured her heart – was valid, but it wasn’t running the show any more.
As part of their effort to repair their relationship with Sorrel, Catriona and Angus had presented her with a proposition.
If she wanted to stay on Skye, she could live at the Inn – at least for a while, until she found something else – and, if she wanted to, she could become a formal part of the business.
You’re the oldest child. It makes sense, Angus had begun, the week before, as they’d sat down for a cup of tea at the Inn’s kitchen table.
We’re no’ gettin’ any younger, an’ you’ve been a godsend during all this trouble.
Plus, we want tae make a gesture tae make you know how much we value you… How much we need you, Sorrel.
Your mother an’ I would like tae make you the Inn’s director.
The CEO. Whatever you want tae call it, hen.
We’ll manage the Inn like we always have, but you’ll have the strategy.
The oversight. We can grow the business.
You can think of all the improvements, get the word out about us more, make us go stratospheric if you like.
But we just want you tae know that we trust you, and we love you.
Sorrel had accepted.
She’d also come to an agreement with Simon that he would buy her out of the company and the house. With that money, and with the contacts she’d made, she was going to start up her own house renovation company, but in Scotland this time.
The Inn was finished now, and Sorrel had to admit that it had ended up being one of her favourite renovations.
Not because it had been a hassle-free process – far from it.
But she’d never renovated anywhere that was special to her before, and she realised what a unique feeling it was to rescue her own home and enrich it: it was an act of love.
When Sorrel had done a final walk-through of the Inn, looking for last-minute fixes and casting her eye over everything to make sure it was exactly as she wanted it, she felt a glow of pride.
In a way, making the Inn home again had been her way of saying sorry for her part in the ten-year estrangement.
It was no one’s fault, but remaking the Inn was Sorrel’s way of saying I love you.
The Inn was definitely still home, with the same traditional vibes, but fresh and even better than before.
There was a new wooden kitchen in a modern cottage-style cream, with a varnished wooden surface and a matching kitchen island.
Catriona now had more cupboard space, and Tam had built in a whole new gleaming walk-in larder for her in the basement, which had been thoroughly reconstructed, damp-proofed and sealed.
The dining room had been redecorated with a subtle tartan wallpaper and white woodwork, and Sorrel had sourced all new tables and chairs in white painted wood.
Angus had insisted on hanging portraits of all six Balhennie daughters in white wood frames on the walls, along with a couple of family group photos from when Sorrel had been a kid.
One, her favourite, hung in pride of place over the old fireplace in the middle of the room: a picture of Catriona, Angus, Sorrel and all her sisters on a boat, going seal-watching.
It was a day that Catriona had come along, and not stayed at home.
Sorrel remembered that day. It had been happy.
Unexpectedly, Sorrel was happy. Suddenly, a new life had stretched out in front of her in ways that she couldn’t have imagined months ago.
Behind James stood a cavernous marble-topped fireplace, upon which sat two pairs of ornate gold candlesticks.
Above the fireplace hung a portrait of a bearded man in a kilt and formal jacket, posing with two hunting dogs.
Sorrel peered closer at the title of the painting: MATTHEW BALHENNIE, LAIRD OF BALHENNIE CASTLE.
Her eyes widened. This was Matthew, then: the man that Emma Gordon had loved, and who had loved her. She looked around at Tam, who stood next to her.
‘Look,’ she whispered, pointing at the painting. ‘Matthew Balhennie!’
‘Wow!’ Tam raised his eyebrows. ‘All this time and he was hanging there. You must have looked at that painting thousands of times,’ he whispered back. ‘Sort of fitting that we’re here today to do this.’
‘Well, without further ado, I’m delighted to reveal that we have a new addition to the Balhennie Castle archive,’ James continued.
Sorrel focused on her uncle. Or her cousin once removed, if she was being pedantic about it.
‘This is a wonderful piece of history that has been returned to us after it went missing in 1883 and was recently found in the renovation of the Balhennie Inn. Thanks go to Sorrel Balhennie and Tam Blackwood for finding it. A round of applause, everyone!’
Everyone clapped; Sorrel felt herself blush. She hadn’t done anything: it had been Tam that had found it.
‘And here it is. A jewelled dagger, circa 1800, so says Harold, antique appraiser here.’ James indicated a small, bespectacled man to his right, who stood with his hands held behind his back, rocking slowly on his feet.
‘We don’t know its origin, sadly, but we do know that the dagger was stolen from the castle by a Miss Emma Gordon in 1883.
Emma was a rather controversial figure; she spent some time on Skye and was involved with the Crofters’ War.
She had a history of fraud and embezzlement, and Tam and Sorrel found documents that would suggest that Emma stole this piece from the castle, intending to sell it so that she and her lover, Matthew Balhennie, could build a new life in Australia.
‘Sadly, we know that Emma was instead arrested for stealing money from several fraudulent charities that she set up, and that she was imprisoned for some years before disappearing in the United States and never being seen again. We don’t know much more than that, apart from the fact that she was in love with Matthew Balhennie, who later became the laird.
‘Emma hid the dagger in the chimney of the Balhennie Inn, where it’s been for well over a hundred years.
I presume that she needed somewhere to hide it in a hurry, once she realised that she wasn’t going to be able to escape the police – perhaps she was staying at the Inn at the time. We don’t know.
But what we do know is that Emma – or perhaps Matthew – hid some letters and other documents at the Inn, as well as a knotted piece of ribbon.
In her letter, she says that she made the ribbon to protect Matthew.
I wonder whether, in a strange way, Emma’s charm worked.
In his lifetime, there was no knowledge of Matthew’s affair with Emma, a known criminal, and he lived a full and happy life as Laird of Balhennie, having three children with his wife, Katherine.
Emma protected Matthew with her absence – but we’ll never know whether they still longed for each other over the later years of their lives.
It’s a sad story, but the dagger is a reminder that there are always untold histories that it is important to know.
Because of Tam and Sorrel, now we know a part of Balhennie history that we never knew before.
‘We will be displaying the dagger in the main weapons room now, along with the clan swords, with a written guide about Emma, the Crofters’ War and the Balhennie clan in the Victorian era.
‘Thank you for listening, and I believe that Claire has organised tea for us in the drawing room.’ He bowed, and went to his wife, Evelinda, taking her hand and kissing it.
‘Well, that was a little long-winded, but that’s James for you,’ Angus, who was standing nearby, muttered.
Blossom shot him a look. ‘Dad. Shhh. Best behaviour,’ she hissed.
‘Aye, well, Dougal Balhennie – that’s Matthew’s father – he was involved in the carvin’ up o’ the Balhennie estate.
Not surprisin’ that Matthew thought about leavin’ it all behind and runnin’ off tae Australia.
Dougal was a tartar, by all accounts. Nasty fella.
I wouldn’t have put it past him tae have had this Emma arrested if he found oot aboot them seein’ each other.
He wouldnae want to lose the Balhennie heir, an’ no’ tae a criminal. ’