Page 127 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Yet she had to leave. She had to leave Drumvagen and return to London with Elliot.
Her only recourse was to involve the authorities. Elliot was her son and Macrath had no legal right to keep him here. Perhaps being the Countess of Barrett would come in useful for the first time.
Involving the authorities, however, would put a wedge between her and Macrath, one that would never be removed.
Standing, she went to the bellpull and tugged on it. She would give Hannah instructions to pack their belongings, and tell Mary and Agatha it was time to return to London.
Only then would she go to Macrath and tell him of her decision. A conversation she dreaded but one that had to happen if she ever hoped to be free.
Paul stood on a hill overlooking the ocean. All around him were clumps of tall green and brown grasses clinging to the edge. Below him the earth was scooped out as if by a giant spoon. At the base were rocks, gradually giving way to toast-colored sand.
“Are you certain you understood?” he asked, looking down at the beach.
“Yes, sir,” William said. “The grotto’s to the left. Down that bit.”
He was doubtful the other man had gotten the directions correctly. The beach was more rock than sand, ending in a formation of stone covered by lichen on one end and an outcropping of rock at the other.
“How do we get down?” Paul asked.
William shook his head.
Not a font of information, was he?
Was he supposed to slide down?
He turned to ask William if he’d thought to bring a rope and saw he’d moved a few feet away. “Here, sir,” William said, pointing to a divot in the earth.
Paul peered over the edge. Not as bad a descent as he’d feared.
“You stay here. Lower the basket once I’m on the beach,” he said, afraid the bottle inside might break during his descent.
William nodded and squatted on the edge of the grass, the basket in his hands.
Paul disliked nature, or perhaps it was simply the absence of civilization. He was a city man, born and bred.
He slid down the hill, annoyed it was the only way to reach the beach. Once on the rocks, he called up to William, who lowered the basket to him.
Now, to find Virginia.
“We’re leaving?” Hannah asked, her eyes wide. “We’re returning to London?”
Hannah had never questioned her instructions.
Virginia folded the letter, placed it on the table, and studied her maid’s thinned lips and slumped shoulders.
“Have you developed a fondness for Scotland, Hannah?”
“Drumvagen is a very pretty place,” her maid said. “Although I’ve been told the winters can be fierce.”
“You knew we weren’t going to remain here.”
Hannah nodded slowly, staring down at the floor.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to leave?”
“No, your ladyship,” Hannah said softly.
“You and I have gone through a great deal together.”
