A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(23)
Gage, Henry, and I didn’t talk much as we made our way single file over the most precarious part of the trail, concentrating on the horses and trying not to be distracted by the glorious views across the loch toward the west. Sunlight glinted off the water, where seals bobbed in the waves, and the verdant rolling hills surrounding the village of Ardfern and its harbor on the opposite shore.
Gripping the reins with my kid leather gloves, I breathed deep of the salty breeze that played with the hairs at the base of my neck and ruffled the gigot sleeves of my plum riding habit. Gold epaulette trim marched down the bodice and around the cuffs, and a matching belt cinched the fabric around my waist.
On the far side of the crag, the terrain evened out and the trail led us into a forest, where the trees soon enveloped us, hiding the loch from our view. Beneath the thick canopy of downy birch, oaks, and pines, the air was cooler and redolent with the smell of moss and old growth. At first the path was nearly as narrow as it had been over the rocky terrain, with the trees crowding close and branches brushing the tops of our heads. But as we passed along the shore of a lochan buried deep within the heart of the wood, the trail widened enough for at least two to ride abreast.
Gage slowed his chestnut gelding so that I could ride alongside him. “Your uncle said when the trail passed a small rocky outcropping to the west, we would be halfway there. He even suggested that if we have time, we might wish to stop and view the cup and ring carvings in the rock.”
“Perhaps on our return journey,” I replied, knowing I needn’t explain why I was so mindful of the time. I had, at most, three hours before I needed to return to Emma, and a glimpse at the watch pinned to my bodice told me a quarter of an hour had already passed. “But what did Uncle Dunstan say when you asked him about the Campbells?”
Gage had been present when I informed Barbreck of my findings about the forgeries in the long gallery, so he knew the marquess had reacted better than I’d expected. At least, this time he hadn’t shouted at me, instead falling into a brooding stupor. One he’d emerged from long enough to grant me permission to analyze the other paintings in his collection, and to order me to prove Miss Campbell’s involvement. The latter was a difficult charge, and one I had no intention of actually pursuing, though I did plan to pry into the paintings’ provenance. Whether Miss Campbell had been involved with them in any way other than her father’s denouncement of the Titian remained to be seen, but unless she intersected with them in another meaningful way, I was not going to badger the woman.
After delivering this information, I’d hurried off to feed Emma and change garments while Gage and Henry arranged our transportation and somehow contrived—undoubtedly with my uncle’s assistance—to discourage the rest of the family from joining us.
“What sort of situation will we be riding into?” I prompted, echoing his words from the previous evening. I knew he wasn’t expecting to be met by angry men brandishing weapons, otherwise he never would have allowed me to accompany them, but I was curious what Uncle Dunstan had told him about the Campbells.
Henry urged his steed closer, as if also eager to hear Gage’s response.
“Apparently, much of the time Miss Campbell resides at Poltalloch with only her younger sister, Margaret, for company. The estate belongs to their nephew, Sir James Campbell, but he and his family live elsewhere for the greater part of the year.”
“Kindness or neglect?” I queried, wondering whether Sir James’s elderly aunts wished to live at Poltalloch or were forced to do so.
“From what your uncle tells me, I deduced that Miss Campbell is rather a force unto herself. She may be over seventy, but she’s still healthy and vigorous, and often seen riding about the countryside.” He cast an amused glance at us. “He thinks it’s likely she wields the real power at Poltalloch, and her nephew is happy to leave the management of it to her. I gained the impression he and his son, the next James in a rather long line of them, are not the most frugal of gentlemen. So the estate isn’t prosperous, as they’ve drained many of the assets to pay for their expensive lifestyles. But it’s obvious Mr. Mallery has great respect for this Miss Campbell. Says she takes care of her own.”
“Then the animosity between her and Lord Barbreck must not extend to Uncle Dunstan or the rest of the family,” I surmised.
“I gather not. Though I don’t believe there’s much interaction between them.”
I frowned at the trail before us. We seemed to be traveling uphill, perhaps nearing that rocky outcropping Gage mentioned. “It still puzzles me that none of them suspected Barbreck’s broken engagement to Miss Campbell.” The degree of his hostility seemed too extreme to be ignored.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
I turned to look at my husband in question.
“Your uncle said something that made me think he’s suspected the truth for some time, though it’s unclear whether he ever asked Barbreck about it. Perhaps he was rebuffed, or perhaps he believed it was none of his business.”
I thought back to Aunt Cait’s reaction to Barbreck’s confession. “I’ll grant you that he may have suspected it, but it was evident he’d said nothing to my aunt about it. Did none of them question Barbreck’s resentment of their neighbor?” I knew these were questions for my relatives, but I couldn’t help but ruminate aloud. “I know they suggested it was naught but a clan feud. And I would never underestimate the power of such a grudge.” One need only delve shallowly into the history of Scotland to uncover tales of the savage vengeance one clan sometimes enacted on another. “But I could tell they found that theory as doubtful as I do.”