‘We did, Angus. I told you it would become easier as he grew older.’
‘’Tweren’t only that and you know it.’ Angus grunted as he threw back the cover of the trunk and began taking out linen.
Benneit ignored his comment and focused on Angus’s methodical actions. For such a large man his movements were graceful, but then a man who had dealt in gunpowder for many years during the war would have to be dexterous. Angus never spoke of it, but Benneit knew from another soldier from Lochmore land that the explosion that had marked Angus’s body was not his fault. Somehow, unlike so many others who returned from the war, Angus had kept his calm centre, but his very contentedness to remain at Lochmore and not stretch his horizons as he had when he joined the army was telling. Benneit never pried or pushed, but sometimes he wondered if he should.
Angus and he had always been fast friends despite the difference in their age and stations. There had been few boys his age near Lochmore and, until he was sent away to school in England, Angus had been his closest friend. And despite his parents’ concerns, every time they returned to Lochmore they picked up the threads of their friendship, disregarding time passed and social barriers.
‘You shouldn’t be doing that, Angus. That is Ewan’s duty.’
‘Clears my mind. Simple things.’
Benneit nodded and looked back out the window. Downstairs a stack of not-so-simple matters was awaiting in the estate room, alongside his long-suffering steward, McCreary.
‘You should go to The House in the morning before McDreary snares you in his net. Clear your mind,’ Angus continued behind him.
‘I might.’
‘She’ll keep an eye on Jamie.’
‘No doubt.’
‘You’ll be eating up here or downstairs?’
Benneit hesitated and Angus shut the trunk.
‘There won’t be nought to bother ye downstairs, Mrs Merry said, as Jamie asked Mrs Langdale to share his tea in the nursery. And Lady Morag won’t venture out until you’re settled and she accepts there’s a new face in the castle. If then. She’s getting on and her bitterness is firming her in the tower like a barnacle on its rock.’
‘I’m tired, Angus. I will eat in the study. Tomorrow I will sort out the details. Has Mrs Merry been civil to Mrs Langdale?’
Angus straightened with a grin.
‘Tried not to, then came under the great wide-eyed stare and crumbled like week-old kelp in summer. There’ll be a fire in her parlour, don’t you worry.’
Benneit nodded.
‘Keep an eye on her.’
‘With pleasure, Your Grace.’
‘On Mrs Merry, Angus. Not Mrs Langdale.’
Angus’s grin widened and Benneit resisted the urge to curse. He had stepped right on to that cowpat with his eyes open.
‘She won’t be staying, Angus.’
‘Aye, I know. Best plough ahead on your plans to bring someone that will, then. Jamie’s growing.’
Benneit grunted and turned back to the view—already it had changed, the afternoon wind ruffling the sea’s surface and clouds gathering on the horizon like sheep around a trough.
* * *
He held out another hour before he headed down the corridor towards the nursery. There was nothing wrong with wanting to see if Jamie was settled after the journey. But it was wrong to have to make excuses to himself.
The nursery parlour was empty, the empty plates still on the table. He frowned and went to the bedroom. That, too, was empty.
‘In the schoolroom,’ Nurse Moody murmured behind him and he turned.
‘At this hour?’
She shrugged and shuffled out.
The first thing he noticed as he entered was her hair. It was not in her usual tidy bun, but in a queue held back by a single blue ribbon, falling down her back in a lush tangle. It was still damp from bathing, but beginning to dry into waves warmed by the firelight into the colour of sunny wheat. If not for the horrible grey dress he might not have recognised her.
Flops was lying with his paws splayed wide by the fire, looking more than ever like a skinned fur pelt set out to dry. He raised his cream and tan head with a panting grin and tapped the floor with his tail before subsiding again into a shapeless mop, clearly too exhausted from Jamie’s joyous homecoming to even come to Benneit for his usual ear-scratching.
Benneit remained in the shadowed doorway, watching them as their heads drew even closer over some object Jamie placed in her hand.
‘See? This is special,’ Jamie said and Jo nodded, her voice as hushed as his as she answered.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like it has been struck by lightning. Do you think that is what happened?’
Jamie took it back, inspecting the coloured stone with the slash of white through its centre.
‘The mermaids left it for me.’
‘You are very lucky then,’ she replied. ‘They never left anything for me.’
‘Do you live near the sea, too?’
‘No. But there is a pond. With frogs.’
Jamie giggled.
‘Mermaids don’t live in ponds.’
‘I imagine they don’t. They would be pondmaids, wouldn’t they? What is this?’ she raised a smooth disc of glass to catch the glint of firelight.
‘Papa said this is from Jules Keezers’s quizzing glass. Grandfather Uxmore has a quizzing glass and it makes his eye look like a beetle.’
‘I did not know Julius Caesar had a quizzing glass, but I like that it is blue. Do you think he had one in every colour? Perhaps when it was cloudy he used a yellow one to brighten up the world.’
‘And then he could put the yellow with the blue to make the world green. Papa showed me that. I could take it to the desert with me because Papa says there is no green there. Not much anyway.’
‘No, I dare say there isn’t. But there are oases, aren’t there?’
‘O-a-sees?’ Jamie enunciated.
‘Yes, springs of water in the middle of the desert. Imagine—you are riding on your camel’s hump for days and days, all thirsty and hot, and suddenly at the edge of the world you see green and then you come closer and there are trees and a spring of cool water. It must seem like magic, too.’
Jamie stared up at the ceiling, as if the world was opening up above them and the image descended from the heavens, then he turned and finally noticed Benneit standing in the doorway.
‘Papa! I am showing Jo my treasures.’
‘Not “Jo”, but Mrs Langdale, Jamie. We should observe the proprieties now we are at Lochmore.’
Benneit moved forward, nodding to Mrs Langdale as she shifted on to her knees unhurriedly and stood.
‘It is my fault, Your Grace. I forgot and asked him again to call me Jo.’
‘I see. Bedtime, Jamie. It has been a very, very long week.’
Mrs Langdale nodded, as if well aware the admonition was for her.
‘Goodnight, Jamie. Thank you for showing me your treasures.’
Jamie