Page 17 of Death at a Highland Wedding
I backtrack fast and hurry up the stairs, and I’m gone before the door opens.
SIX
The problem with not sleeping at night? You really want to sleep in the morning. All morning if possible. Since I’m here as Isla’s companion, and she said she wouldn’t need me until later, I beg off breakfast to get more shut-eye. But then, of course, everyone starts wondering whether I’m unwell or maybe just having such a shitty time that I’d rather stay in bed. First it’s Isla checking on me in person. Then it’s Alice coming up on Gray’s behalf, and finally, McCreadie sneaks up to rap on my attic door.
Apparently, “I didn’t sleep well and I’m just tired” isn’t a valid excuse, at least not with friends who worry that the “not sleeping well” part means you’re either sick or unhappy.
So I drag my ass out of bed after about three hours of sleep. The truth is that I’m not sure how much of it is that I’m tired, and how much is that I’m kinda dreading the day. I’d envisioned a fun trip to the Highlands with friends, and I’ve been thrown into far more interpersonal drama than I like. Except that dramainvolvesmy friends—as the targets, not the instigators—and so I really shouldn’t be hiding in bed, hoping the day goes by faster. Nope, I need to bear witness, while unable to run interference because it’s not my place to do so.
My first thought ismaybe we can go for a walk.Then I remember the traps. But if the road is clear, we could walk along it. Would it be rudeto tell our hosts we’re slipping out in the coach for a tour of the countryside?
I arrive downstairs just as Gray walks out of the dining room. Seeing me, he fairly exhales with relief, and guilt darts through me.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to throw you to the wolves.”
He frowns. Then his gaze swings back to the dining room, where Cranston’s voice booms. “Ah. No.” He lowers his voice. “Archie fancies himself a wolf, but he has more in common with the smaller canines, the sort who yap and bite at ankles.”
Gray smiles when he says it, and I’m supposed to laugh, but I think of the Cranston I saw last night, who’d actually seemed like a decent guy.
Gray continues, “I was concerned about you. Isla said you are quartered in the attic, with the servants, which is—”
“Fine,” I say. “It is fine. I just didn’t sleep well after napping on the drive, which means I didn’t want to get up this morning. But now I have and—”
“Duncan,” a voice says. It’s Sinclair, leaning out from the dining room. “You would like to join us for a walk, yes? You and Miss Mitchell.”
“No one is going for any walks,” Cranston booms from the dining room. “Stop that nonsense or—”
“Help me out, Gray,” Sinclair mock whispers. “Tell Archie that Miss Mitchell is unwell and needs fresh air.”
“We are going out, Archie.” It’s Fiona’s voice. “I understand you are concerned, but you cannot keep us indoors in such fine weather. We will stay on the road, and you may remain behind if you like. But we are going for a walk.”
Cranston grumbles something I can’t make out. Then he says, “Fine. We shall all go for a walk. I know where Müller laid the bloody traps, and we can avoid them.”
“Does that mean we get to leave the road?” Fiona says. “I would love to see the lochs. I could spot one from my window, and it looked lovely.”
“Fine, fine. Yes, you shall see a loch, ma’am.”
“Ezra mentioned a rowboat.” she says. “I would dearly like to go out in a rowboat.”
“Anything else, m’lady?” Cranston says with a low grumble.
“Perhaps. I shall let you know.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Like with any large group walk, we gradually diverge into smaller parties. Cranston insists on being up front to scout the way. He’s on his own, marching along like he’s leading us into battle. Sinclair walks behind with Fiona, the two of them deep in conversation. Violet stayed behind at the house, along with James Frye and his as-yet-unseen wife. McCreadie and Isla start off with us, but then they get into a conversation about mushrooms, and Gray and I ease back into the rear.
“It really is a beautiful day,” I say. “I was thinking earlier that I’d like to walk along the roads. This is even better.”
“We can certainly walk along the roads later,” Gray says. “I suspect we will need regular escapes—I mean outings. The gardens, the roads, possibly a coach ride to see the countryside.”
I smile. “I was thinking exactly that. I just wasn’t sure whether it’d be rude to leave the estate.”
“Oh, it certainly is rude, but I believe we could manage it. I…” He trails off, frowning as he looks to our left. “Do you hear that?”
I hadn’t until he stopped talking. Ahead of us, everyone is hiking along, immersed in their various conversations. No one notices when we stop to listen.
I’m not sure what I’m hearing at first. It’s faint, and I need to concentrate to pick it up.
