Page 17 of The Midnight Secret

‘Where’s your spirit of adventure?’ Bitsy laughed. ‘I’ll just give you one more push.’

‘No! No, please!’ Effie cried as Bitsy pushed harder anyway. She pulled back as the horse bowed forward to the very tip of the rails, falling back on her climbing skills and using her weight to counterbalance and reduce the dip.

‘I say! What’s going on in here?’ a male voice asked loudly, interrupting them all. Effie’s head turned towards the door – Gladly was standing there, Sholto coming in on his heel with a concerned look – but the movement of her body must have spun the toy on the wooden floor, because there was a sudden, splintering scream in her ear that made her jolt.

Effie turned back with a gasp to find Bitsy now thrown on the ground, clutching her foot.

‘Bits!’ Peony yelped, leaping from the chair and running towards her.

‘My toes! She’s broken my toes!’ Bitsy sobbed.

‘Let me see!’ Peony demanded, slipping the shoe from her friend’s foot. Already, through the silk stockings, Bitsy’s pretty painted toes were swelling. ‘Oh, you beast!’ she cried, looking back at Effie. ‘She’s wretched! How could you do this to her? And after you hit her in the face, too! What’s come over you, Effie?’

‘I...’ Effie stared back at her, appalled by this misrepresentation of events.

‘You hit her in the face?’ Gladly asked with a disbelievingtone. He hurried over to where Bitsy lay on the ground, weeping.

Effie looked at Sholto, seeing his expression change, a flush of embarrassment coming into his cheeks. ‘...I can explain,’ she whispered.

There was a moment’s silence, and in it she saw the gulf between them that he kept saying they could bridge. He blinked it away in the next instant.

‘Of course you can. It was clearly an accident,’ he said hurriedly, coming over and drawing her into him as she slid off the horse. He kissed her hair as they watched the others help Bitsy into the chair and Gladly examined her wounds.

‘Well, I’m no doctor, but I’ve seen my fair share of crushed feet in the owners’ enclosures. I don’t think they’re broken,’ he smiled reassuringly. ‘But you’ll have a nasty bruise for a few days.’

‘It was entirely our fault,’ Sholto said. ‘Barging in like that without knocking. We distracted you.’

Effie looked up at him, grateful for his tactful rescue but also hating that she needed rescuing at all. She was used to conflict and drama back home – usually with the men saying she couldn’t do what they did – but here, she couldn’t advocate for herself; it wasn’t seemly. Sholto had to endorse her, defend her, protect her. Her word didn’t count.

‘Where are the others?’ Peony asked.

‘Drying off. It’s raining buckets out there. The greens are turning into blues.’

Peony frowned. ‘Hmm?’

‘Rivers. Lakes, old girl,’ Gladly said, getting up. ‘Anyway, we came here to let you know Albie’s invited us to Blair for cocktails this evening. Some Hollywood types have turnedup unexpectedly and he needs to give them a show. I trust that will please you all?’

Peony and Bitsy both straightened up with looks of immediate interest.

‘When you say a show—’ Veronica piped up.

‘Not that sort,’ Peony snapped.

‘Who’s Albie?’ Effie asked Sholto quietly.

‘Son of the Duke of Atholl. Good sort, likes to fish,’ he said distractedly, looking down at her with concern. ‘Was everything all right just now, before we came in?’ he murmured. ‘I thought I heard you calling out. You sounded distressed.’

‘No, I was fine,’ Effie nodded, feeling the lie catch in her chest. But what else could she say? It would only worry him to hear that she’d detected real anger in Bitsy’s actions. Had it only been retaliation for Effie hitting her in the pillow fight, or something else? Did Bitsy resent Effie for snagging Sholto because she was a commoner and he was such a prize? Or because he was a man who had once been betrothed to her friend?

They all knew each other, this set, moving between country houses and castles as easily as Effie had once wandered up and down the street in Village Bay; the only difference was scale. Perth, Edinburgh, Oxford, London...it didn’t really matter, everyone was connected on their glittering, golden web. And Effie couldn’t help but feel she was the fly, caught in the middle of it all.

Chapter Five

White turrets, a flag flying, a piper sounding into the night as the cars rolled up to the castle doors...These were the things Effie noticed as she slid down from her seat, slippery in the buttermilk satin gown Veronica had loaned her for the evening.

Sholto gave her his hand, so handsome in black tie dress –titum, he’d called it – and led her, with the others, inside. The entrance hall was panelled in oak, with a dazzling display of armoury on the double-height walls; colours hung from the gallery, a sixteen-pointer staring down at all visitors. Effie tried not to look impressed, following Peony and Bitsy’s lead as they carelessly breezed through, but muskets, broadswords, targes and dirks arranged in symmetrical, geometric displays weren’t usual where she came from. Her head followed where her gaze travelled: up, down and all around.

Sholto squeezed her hand, calming her nerves, as they passed through the corridors under the silent, watchful gaze of Atholl ancestors. She knew that for his sake she had to fit in.

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