Page 53 of The Sisters of Sea View
“I did. Near Kirkcaldy, north of Edinburgh.”
“Do tell us more about life there,” prompted the older man. “I find it most interesting.”
“Let me see,” Mr. Henshall began, his eyes softening in memory. “Ye may know there are many abandoned castles in Scotland, and we lads enjoyed playing in them. One day we stormed Ravenscraig and laid siege to it with our wooden swords. That is, until the baron’s land agent set his dogs on us. The vicious beasts chased us, nipping at our heels. We were frightened out of our wits, and shut ourselves in a shepherd’s hut, hoping they’d give up the chase. Instead they kept us trapped there for an hour....”
His humorous expressions and accented voice brought the story to life, drawing chuckles from his listeners. Sarah couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked as he enthralled them all with his tale—all except his daughter, Effie, who pushed fish around her plate wearing a pinched expression.
He went on, “Thankfully the shepherd came at last and tossed the dogs some haggis, which tasted far better than we would have, and saved our sorry hides.”
Laughter rose at that.
Remaining serious, Mr. Elton asked, “What is haggis?”
Effie snorted. “Ye don’t want to know.”
A short while later, as Sarah helped Jessie serve the dessert, she noticed Mr. Henshall’s silver cravat pin and asked, “Your pin, Mr. Henshall. What is that symbol? A pineapple?”
He looked up at her, eyes glinting. “Bite your tongue, Miss Summers.” A crooked grin softened his words. “This is a thistle, the emblem of Scotland.”
“A thistle?” Mr. Elton asked. “Is not that prickly plant considered a weed?”
“Perhaps here. But in Scotland they are revered.”
“Why?”
Effie groaned, clearly knowing what was coming.
“Because long ago, Vikings landed on the coast to attack under the cover of darkness. Hoping to catch the Scots unaware, they removed their shoes and crept silently through the fields to the Scottish camp. Little did they know that the field was covered in thistles. Stepping on a sharp spine, one of the barefoot Vikings cried out, arousing the sleeping Scots in time, and they went on to rout the invaders.”
Lip curled, Effie said, “It’s only a legend.”
“Perhaps. Yet to this day the thistle remains a symbol of bravery, courage, and loyalty.”
Mr. Elton asked a few more questions, while Mrs. Elton remained quiet, leaving Sarah to wonder if she found Scotsmen as unappealing as blind men.
10
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sailed softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—On me alone it blew.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
Rime of the Ancient Mariner
The next morning, Sarah rose early, dressed warmly, and met Mr. Henshall downstairs for the proposed sunrise walk.
He smiled at her when she descended, yet his eyes remained serious.
Once out of the house, he led the way, walking not east toward the churchyard, but rather southwest up steep Peak Hill Road. When they reached Pilgrim Cottage, he turned left, toward the sea.
Together, they walked out onto the headland near the lime kiln, overlooking the sea and Chit Rock. He walked to the edge of the grassy knoll, his coattails whipping behind him in the wind.
For a few moments, she stood beside him in silence, watching a gannet—a white bird with black wingtips—circling high above the waves before diving into the water for fish.
Then he took a deep breath and began, “My wife and I had not been wed long when I realized she was unwell.”
Sarah thought of the headstone in the churchyard. “What ailed her?”
“Physically, she was reasonably hale, but she was laid low by a depression of spirits. She had suffered on and off for years, and her relationship with Effie’s father had worsened her condition.”
