A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(28)
Miss Campbell’s face softened, as if moved by the same thoughts. “We shall invite Lady Darby one day for tea,” she said with an anxious look toward me, perhaps uncertain whether I would accept. “I shall send her an invitation.”
“Yes, I should like that,” I replied sincerely.
With that decided, Gage linked his arm with mine as we were led from the room into the entry, just as a dark-haired maid came bustling up the stairs, her arms laden with a heavy tray. She stopped abruptly at the sight of us leaving, her cheeks flushing bright red. “Kady dropped the first tray,” she blurted in defense. “Made a right awful mess.”
“?’Tis all right, Mairi,” Calder replied long-sufferingly. “Take it on in.”
Though I would have preferred a sip of tea, I decided it would be best to settle for a drink of water from the flasks tucked in our horses’ saddle bags.
Our steeds were waiting for us where we’d left them, and we were soon mounted and riding through the gates and back down the trail we had taken such a short time earlier. Gage opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. “Not here.”
He studied me for a moment before glancing behind me at Henry and then nodded.
It wasn’t that I was worried about being overheard, but rather that it was difficult to hold a conversation on horseback when the path was not wide enough to accommodate all of us abreast. That, and I wanted time to think over what we had seen and heard before I voiced my opinions to the others. As the only female among our trio, and a woman whom the world also viewed as unconventional, I perhaps possessed a unique insight into the Campbell sisters and what they were thinking or feeling. I didn’t want my impressions to be muddied by Gage’s and Henry’s thoughts until I’d given them due consideration.
We rode in silence until we reached the rocky outcropping my uncle had suggested we might enjoy seeing. The one etched with cup and ring markings. I was admittedly less enthused with traipsing up and down the rock face to see the etchings as I was to rehash our interview with the Campbells, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t stretch our legs while we allowed the ponies to graze at the side of the trail.
The midafternoon sun beat down on the windswept rocks between snatches of clouds. I turned my face up to it as I neared the top and breathed deeply of the sea-scented air before turning to the men. Henry had squatted to examine what did indeed appear to be intricate carvings swirling over the stone only to disappear under a patch of moss or sod. I suspected if anyone ever took enough of an interest in them and decided to remove the vegetation grown over the rock surface, they would find more of the ancient etchings. Perhaps they would even be able to discover what they were for. But I brushed the thought aside in favor of the more immediate issue at hand.
“What did you think of Miss Campbell and what she had to say?” I asked Gage, who stood with his feet braced apart to steady himself at the steepest slope of the rock face, studying something his half brother had pointed out.
He looked up at me and then climbed the remaining feet between us while Henry straightened up to stand. “I think . . .” Gage broke off, removing his hat from his head to let the wind riffle through his golden tresses while he gazed off over the loch toward the Craignish peninsula. A furrow formed between his brows. “I think that forgery caused more heartache than it had a right to.”
I had to agree. Despite Barbreck’s and Miss Campbell’s attempts to pretend that their broken engagement some fifty-four years earlier had not mattered, it was more than obvious that it had. That it still did. I wanted to shake my head at the foolishness of their allowing the painting and their outrage over their family’s honor to come between them, but that was not the matter at hand, nor our charge to fix.
“As for Miss Campbell herself,” Gage continued. “She seemed to me to be an intelligent, capable, forthright person, if not a bit mistrusting. But given her circumstances, one can hardly blame her.”
“She certainly seems to take pride in Poltalloch,” I replied. “Doing her best for it even as her nephew continues to direct the funds toward his own pleasures, if my uncle has the right of it. And I have no reason to doubt he does. Uncle Dunstan wouldn’t cast aspersions unless they were well-proven.”
Henry nodded. “I’ve met the current Campbell of Poltalloch, and nothing your uncle has reported about Sir James surprises me. He’s rather a careless ne’er-do-well. And his heir, who is nearing his majority, appears to be following in his footsteps.”
“Then it’s no wonder Miss Campbell feels so protective of Poltalloch, or that those living on the estate feel protective of her,” I murmured. “They must know what’s coming when Miss Campbell passes.” As such, I suspected it would be difficult, if nigh impossible, to get any information out of her staff. If we even needed to.
I clamped my hands onto my hips, turning my head to stare over the green treetops in the direction of Poltalloch. “Truth be told, the involvement of the Campbells seems straightforward. Miss Campbell’s father asked Lord Alisdair to acquire a Titian. The painting he sold him proved to be a fraud, so he confronted Lord Alisdair and Barbreck. Lord Alisdair denied fault, Barbreck backed him, and the painting was returned to Barbreck, the money presumably returned to Sir James, and the engagement broken. That timeline of events does not appear to be in dispute, even if my confirmation of the Titian being a forgery has dredged it all up from the past.