A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(24)
“Maybe they thought it was because he’d taken umbrage at her being granted so much control over Poltalloch, at least ostensibly, but were reluctant to say so,” Henry remarked.
I turned in my saddle to look at him, much struck by this. “That actually makes a great deal of sense.” After all, women rarely owned property and so were rarely allowed to manage it as they saw fit. In this case, Miss Campbell didn’t own the property, but her nephew’s carelessness or disinterest had left her in charge. Even without the added strain of their personal history, a nobleman like Lord Barbreck might have resented this, particularly if her methods ran counter to his own.
Such a resentment would not have been one Aunt Cait took kindly either. Nor Uncle Dunstan, I imagined, as their marriage had always seemed to be a true partnership. That Barbreck would disdain Miss Campbell for such a reason would not have sat well with them, and so maybe they had avoided thinking it. The notion of a clan feud was easier to stomach.
Regardless, we knew the truth now; that his antipathy stemmed from the forgery accusation and their broken engagement. Though I was certain Miss Campbell’s control of her estate probably also played a role in his festering resentment. The question was, how much did Miss Campbell resent him in return?
The fact that she appeared to be friendly enough with Uncle Dunstan seemed to indicate that she didn’t harbor a grudge against all the Mallerys. Though Barbreck’s accusations the previous evening might have stirred any lingering bitterness back up again.
Whatever the case, we would find out soon enough, for the trees began to thin and I spied the rock formation just ahead. As we passed, I allowed my gaze to drift upward over the craggy surface, but from such an angle it was difficult to see any of these cup and ring carvings my uncle mentioned. At the far end, the trail rounded the rocky outcropping to swing to the west nearer to the loch before turning south again along a ridge at the edge of the forest. From this vantage we could see across the waters of the loch to the long narrow island near its middle. The undulating green isle appeared deserted, but perhaps there were buildings hidden from our sight by the scrubby trees clinging to the upland slopes.
We fell quiet again as the path entered another forest, narrowing so that I was forced to drop back to ride behind Gage. This wood was less dense than the last, and we soon neared the edge where the trees opened up to offer us our first glimpse of Poltalloch Castle. The tower house was old. That much was apparent even from a distance. I wagered it had been built in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, and its moss-speckled north-facing edifice testified to that age. Judging from the large divots in the stone and the sizable chunk which had collapsed from the northwest corner, it had also survived multiple attacks over the ages. That or its masonry was in such disrepair that it was falling apart.
Uncle Dunstan had told Gage that the estate was in decline and being stripped of its assets, and the castle exterior’s poor condition attested to that. As did the ruins of a newer manor built in a glen some five hundred yards to the east. There was no roof, only the remains of the outline of its walls. The vegetation growing on, around, and inside those walls made clear it had sat in that condition for several decades.
The trail converged with a wider one from the east, leading us toward the castle, which loomed over us, having been built on top of a rocky mount. The builders had taken advantage of this natural formation and constructed the low walls of a courtyard around its perimeter. The gates were thrown open, and so we urged our mounts through them and up the sloped path into the enclosure.
Inside to our left we spied a row of low buildings which undoubtedly acted as stables. I suspected the far side of the castle boasted a set of stairs built into the face of the crag, leading down toward the loch. But around the corner of the tower to our right stood the unassuming wooden door which acted as its main entrance.
Someone had evidently noticed our approach, for a tall woman in a rather plain but impeccably tailored gown of the finest merino dyed in a shade of spruce green stood before the doorway. A man, whom I presumed was her butler, stood just beyond her shoulder, his back straight and his thinning hair rustling against the top of his head in the breeze. In stark contrast, the woman’s iron gray tresses were tightly restrained atop her head, as if they wouldn’t dare disobey the orders of their mistress. Her gaze scrutinized each of us in turn, but I could feel it linger longest on me.
“You’ll be Lady Darby and Mr. Gage, then, I presume,” she remarked in a lilting Scottish brogue, and leaving me in no doubt that Lord Barbreck had invoked our names, likely as a threat, when he confronted her the previous evening.
Polite society persisted in calling me by my first husband’s title out of courtesy, since Sir Anthony Darby had been of a higher rank, though I infinitely preferred to be linked to my second husband by his name instead. But Lady Darby was the title I was most famously, and infamously, known by.
Miss Campbell’s eyes swung back to Henry. “And who might this be?”
“Lord Henry Kerr, ma’am,” he replied.
“A Kerr. And one o’ Bowmont’s sons, no less,” she mused, proving she knew her Debrett’s Peerage, or at least the lineage of Scotland’s noble families. “Aye, well, you’re welcome to Poltalloch as well. Best come inside.” With this remark, she turned to retreat inside the house, trusting us to follow.
A pair of stable hands appeared to take control of our steeds as we dismounted. I hobbled slightly as I moved toward the entrance, unaccustomed to being in a saddle. Gage moved forward to take my arm, but after a few steps I found my gait again. The door was not tall. It appeared that the original opening had never been enlarged, as was done in many old tower houses. For a moment I wondered if Gage and Henry would be forced to stoop to enter, but they remained upright with mere inches to spare.