Page 87 of The Midnight Secret

Huw. She wondered, for the first time in months, about the gamekeeper. It was he who had given her Slipper and Socks, and mended the hole in her heart after losing Poppit. She had been a poor friend to him in return, their fledgling companionship suffocated by her desire for Sholto, even though on paper they made the better match. He wasstillthe better choice. The differences between her and Sholto were every bit as apparent now as they had been at their first meeting; and even Archie – a soulmate who went toe to toe with her spirit – hailed from a different pedigree that he couldn’t quite outrun.

And yet, she couldn’t settle for less just because she came from less. Her heart had always been wild and defiant. She would rather be alone and free than captured and tamed by the wrong man.

She watched the gardeners pruning the rose garden, their bodies bent as they worked in the weak spring sunshine. The trees and shrubs were still bare, pointing spiky fingers towards an unflinching grey sky, but tiny buds were swelling at their tips; they were tender and hesitant amid the frosts but the sap was rising, even if it was unseen. Life was beginning anew after the bleakness of winter.

She heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see an unfamiliar sight: a wicker chair had been set upon large wheels, the small figure sitting within wrapped in blankets and scarves. A young woman was walking behind, pushing the wheeled chair along and talking animatedly to the invalid.

Effie blanched as she recognized Lady Sibyl’s rail-thin silhouette. Her sharp bob poked out beneath a cloche hat, a belt slung low over her coat. When had she returned? Effie wondered in dismay. At the very first klaxon call of the countess’s illness, proving herself a worthy daughter-in-law? Had Sholto called her for comfort?

Either way, it was clear Sibyl’s feet were back under the table again.

Tears pricked at Effie’s eyes, but she swallowed hard and willed them back down, knowing this was right. All was for the best. It was the proof she had unwittingly been searching for from the moment they had arrived – an answer given without a question having been raised. Life had returned to its proper form. All the chess pieces were back in position on the board.

She sensed Archie’s sympathetic look on her back. He knew as well as she did what it meant.

The door opened again, and the earl walked in with a bemused look.

‘Archie!’ he began, his hand already outstretched before he caught sight of Effie there too, standing by the window. His arm dropped in surprise as Sir John followed him into the room with a similarly wry look.

Effie had never met Sir John in person before but, as their landlord, he had ruled the villagers’ waking lives back on St Kilda. Everything they did on the island – weaving, milking, catching birds for oil – had been done to fulfil their rents. The rather unassuming-looking man who now stood before herdidn’t seem, somehow, to match the enigmatic figure of their collective imagination.

There was a momentary silence as the two older men adjusted to her presence, and she realized Henry must have announced only her companion. It was Archie, after all, who had requested the meeting.

‘Miss Gillies. This is a surprise,’ the earl said courteously, albeit coolly.

‘Hello, sir,’ she nodded, making no move to advance towards him. She knew she represented a threat to him, just standing in this room. Had she been the catalyst for his family’s implosion? Did he blame her for his wife’s collapse? He was visibly thinner and more grey-faced than when she’d seen him last, the strain of the past few months sitting upon him like a threadbare coat.

Behind him, Sir John had recovered himself enough to shake Archie by the hand.

‘A drink?’ the earl asked, looking back at him. Effie realized Graves had slipped into the room too and was standing by the door. He was the consummate butler – always unruffled, ever loyal – but she saw his disapproval of her in the tilt of his chin. Did he perceive her as a threat, too? How could a poor island girl, no more than a strip of wind, seem so formidable to one of the grandest families in the land?

‘A warming tot would be appreciated,’ Archie murmured, sending the butler gliding over to the drinks cabinet. ‘We had a blustery drive over.’

‘Oh?’ It struck Effie that the earl looked more interested in his use of ‘we’ than in the driving conditions. ‘Where have you come from today? Not Raasay, surely?’

‘Lochaline. Morven Peninsula.’ Archie put a hand in his pocket. ‘Have you been over that way?’

‘Mm, yes,’ the earl nodded distractedly. Effie remembered his visit to her cottage when he had first come to offer her the job on the estate. How he must have rued that offer since! ‘Bluey MacLean...’

‘Mm,’ MacLeod intoned too, looking sombre. ‘...He’s having a dratted time with the roof. Duart’s got more leaks than No. 10.’

‘Mm.’ The men nodded in commiseration for Bluey MacLean’s damp castle, but moments later their gazes slid towards Effie again like water down glass, with one question in their eyes: what wasshedoing back here?

‘Mind if I smoke?’ Archie asked. He peeled off and turned a languid loop, strolling the room as if enjoying everyone’s silent torment. But then, he was a maverick; he loved a little chaos.

He began talking about the winter storms on Raasay and the bother they had caused, bringing down a number of trees.

‘Not to mention your mast!’ MacLeod exclaimed as Graves returned with their refreshments. ‘TheLady Tara’s fixed now, I understand?’

Archie nodded. ‘Jimmy got me straightened out in no time,’ he replied, inclining his head in a token of thanks to MacLeod’s son. ‘He knew a fellow.’

‘Glad to hear it. I’ve scarce been home this winter, but I’m given to believe your dramatic approach down Loch Dunvegan has already entered local legend.’ MacLeod’s gaze flitted over Effie with open suspicion again. ‘The lady of the loch, they’re calling you, Miss Gillies.’

Effie had to bite her tongue from saying she was no lady.

‘Rightly so,’ Archie grinned. ‘If it hadn’t been for Effie’s bravery, I daresay we’d have capsized and gone under.’

Eyebrows were raised by his casually familiar use of her given name.

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