Page 40 of Edinburgh Escape
A massive chandelier, dripping with hundreds of crystals, hung over the table, casting light over the porcelain plates and glinting off the shiny silverware. The room was beautiful, stately and way out of Maggie’s economic sphere.
Mrs. Jones left Callum and Maggie in the dining room as Ewan and Fiona entered the room behind them.
“Excellent,” Ewan said. “Just in time to take our seats. Cook has a traditional Scottish dinner prepared for tonight of haggis, neeps and tatties.”
Maggie tilted her head. “I’ve heard of haggis but not neeps and tatties.”
“Haggis is a combination of meat, oatmeal, onion and spices.” Fiona entered the dining room and stood to the right of the head of the table. “Neeps are smashed turnips, and tatties are mashed potatoes.”
“Will Bryce be joining us?” Maggie asked.
Fiona shook her head. “When he isn’t feeling well, he takes his evening meals in his room.”
Maggie felt bad for the little guy and wished she could help him get well soon. She’d always had her meals with her mother, not confined to her room. She could imagine how lonely he was. She’d find his bedroom after dinner and check in on him.
Mrs. Jones served the dishes, placing steaming plates in front of each person.
The butler went from person to person pouring wine.
Once they were all served, Ewan lifted his fork in his left hand and cocked an eyebrow as if to say, You may begin. “Please, enjoy.”
Maggie gathered her fork and knife, holding them in the same manner as Ewan, sliced off a sample of haggis and took a tentative bite. She’d heard that those who tasted haggis either loved it or hated it. She popped the morsel into her mouth and chewed, savoring the spices. It was like nothing she’d ever tasted.
“What do you think?” Ewan asked.
She nodded. “I like it.”
Her half-brother laughed. “Good on you. Most tourists dislike our traditional meal.”
Maggie dipped her fork in the turnips and tried them as well. They didn’t have much flavor, but she ate them anyway. The tatties, or potatoes, were light and fluffy.
She glanced toward Callum, who’d quickly eaten everything on his plate. With a grin, she asked, “Taste like home?”
He nodded. “Some of the best I’ve had. I must thank the cook.”
Maggie took a couple more bites, chewed and swallowed. “I understand there have been some disconcerting incidents here at the manor.”
Ewan’s lips twisted. “I suppose you heard about the brakes and the tree swing.”
“We did,” Maggie said. “I’m happy no one was badly injured.”
Fiona shivered. “I’m not sure I’ll be driving again anytime soon. I was lucky I was able to stop when I did.” She held up a hand. “I’ll leave the driving to Alastair.”
Maggie glanced from Fiona to Ewan. “Alastair?”
“Our chauffeur and stable master,” Ewan said. “His family has been with the Drummonds as far back as the eighteen hundreds. Alastair took over after his father passed away. We don’t have as many horses as they did before motor cars were invented, so the chauffeur's duties fell on the stablemaster. Alastair has Johnny, the groom, who helps clean stalls and exercise the horses. But if you need a driver, Alastair is our chauffeur.”
“Thank you, but we rented a car,” Callum said. “I prefer to drive myself.”
Ewan nodded. “I feel the same. I prefer to have control of the vehicle.”
A loud noise echoed through the hallways, coming from near the front of the mansion. Shouts followed, moving closer.
Ewan and Fiona exchanged a glance before he pushed back his chair and stood. “Please, excuse me.”
He hadn’t made it out of the dining room before a stout man with a barrel chest and heavy dark brows entered the dining room.
The butler hurried in behind the man, trying to grab his arm.
