Page 43 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
On the edge of Rannoch Moor
A little later in the morning, 13th December
Only when hertoes began to throb and the tip of her nose went numb did Ursula realize how cold she was. Her navy-blue coat, in finest quality wool, reached almost to her ankles, but was designed more for fashion than insulation. Her gloves and scarf were similarly inadequate. Her hat did nothing to cover her ears.
The mist wrapped around her—a curling, milky haze through which the sun struggled blearily. Where the platform ended, bracken began but she could see nothing more.
No carriage. No one to meet her.
Or rather, no one to meet Miss Abernathy.
Ursula put down the bags and pursed her lips. It was really too bad. A woman of such advanced years could hardly be expected to wait indefinitely in such a remote and exposed location. Ursula felt most indignant on her behalf—not to mention her own.
Someone was supposed to be coming to collect Miss Abernathy, but that someone was late.
Ursula felt a sudden pang at what she’d done—leaving Miss Abernathy on the train like that and taking her belongings. In running away, had she left behind her sense of integrity? Her scruples? She kicked at the rolling mist, which merely shifted about her hem before closing round again.
A still, small voice inside whispered that she’d acted badly.
Walking the length of the platform, Ursula berated herself. A full twenty steps, then she turned and walked back again. It wouldn’t matter how far she walked, it wouldn’t change anything.
However wicked it was, she had to make the best of the situation.
But I’ll do something “good” to make up for my failings. Regardless of how revolting the child is, I’ll be kind to them.
At one end, there was a rough cutting through the frosted bracken leaves. Not a road but a track of sorts. Ursula could see no other. From that direction, surely, the carriage would come.
This being the case, oughtn’t she to set off? The exercise, at least, would keep her blood on the move. She couldn’t just stand here, getting colder and colder.
It couldn’t be too far, could it?
And there were hours of daylight ahead, even though the sun was having trouble penetrating.
Where was it she was going?
Ursula knelt over Miss Abernathy’s handbag. It was a sturdy thing, though the leather was cracked at the corners and the clasp tarnished. It was a handbag that had served its owner well.
Worrying her lip, Ursula pulled the metal frame wide. Inside, the contents were an unexpected jumble, but the letter was near the top: A pale grey envelope, addressed to Miss U. Abernathy at Kilmarnock Manor.
It was a convenient coincidence: their names being so similar.
Steeling herself to do what she must, Ursula scanned through. She was expected at Castle Dunrannoch on the fourteenth of the month “to undertake lessons in etiquette and manners befitting the future earl—a young man unaccustomed to the circles in which he will be moving”.
Apparently, there had been a series of bereavements and the title would be falling to some unsuspecting grandson—a child for whom the family had employed Miss Abernathy.
Except that it wouldn’t be Miss Abernathy turning up. It would be Ursula.
And it wasn’t the fourteenth of the month; that would be tomorrow.
And, though the mist was as thick as ever, she was pretty certain that it had started to snow.
She gave a strangled gasp of laughter.
How absurd everything was.
Incomprehensibly ridiculous.
If she didn’t laugh, she’d sit down on the spot and cry.
