and his men will leave. At any rate, we canna get help from the village if they canna cross the river.”
“Aye, that be true,” she said. She turned back to her cooking.
While they spoke, I scanned the massive vaulted kitchen for outlets, wiring, anything remotely modern, but I saw nothing on the stone walls to suggest modern electricity had been installed.
Light came through open windows high on the walls. Grace’s pot hung from a heavy chain over an open wood fire. Mrs. Renwick pulled chains from the ceiling to rotate something roasting over the fire. Sturdy-looking cast-iron cooking utensils hung from hooks on the walls, even something that looked like a bellows. The granite tiles in the floor were appropriately cut in rather uneven rectangles, as if they had been hand hewn, because why would someone have nicely tiled floors in an old castle? Everything looked like the setting for a medieval period film.
“Do ye see anything inconsistent with the eighteenth century?” Colin asked in a soft voice near my ear. I jumped at his nearness and took a step sideways.
“No!” I said hastily. “Not yet.”
He sighed. “I have barely enough servants to run this auld place. Tenants have been leaving Scotland for a chance to own land in America since the ’15, and my father couldna do anything to stop them. Still others moved to Glasgow and Edinburgh after Culloden. I havena the heart to coax people back to the Highlands now to work in the castle. With no one to work the fields, soon I must turn the land over to the grazing of sheep.”
“The clearances,” I said. Admittedly, sometimes I fell for his act.
“Clearances?” Colin repeated as if he wasn’t familiar with the word. “I have read that some landlords wish to clear their land of crofters and turn it over to the grazing of sheep, but I willna willingly force anyone off the land. I have grass enough up in the hills and on the estate for my sheep right now,” he said with a nod, turning to watch the cook and her granddaughter. “I have only a few tenants and families left now, and I hear rumblings that they may wish to emigrate to America as well. Everybody wants his own land. The village has been dying some time for lack of people. Soon, it will be nae more than a collection of empty cottages and shops. Even the tartan weavers have left for the cities, and I must buy my cloth from Glasgow.”
Man, he was good! My heart ached at the misery in his eyes. He shook his head as if to dispel the awful thoughts and turned to me.
“Do ye wish to see the auld dungeons? That is where the soldiers are bedding down.”
“Dungeons?” I squeaked. I shivered, despite the kitchen’s warmth.
“Aye! This is a castle. My forbearers had need of such, if only to secure unruly clansmen and English soldiers. Captain Jones does not like that I put the soldiers in there, but there are some things—a few still—about which the English have no say.”
Colin grinned, and his face lightened.
“No, I don’t think I need to see the dungeons, unless you’ve wired them for electricity but left your cook struggling with organic power.”
He tilted his head, and I knew he pretended not to understand my words.
“Come then. We shall go upstairs.”
I followed him up the narrow stone steps leading back to the center of the castle. We paused in the great room, where we had eaten. I’d already searched that room for wiring and had found none.
“What else is on this floor?”
“The library, a drawing room my mother used, the hall of paintings.”
“I’d love to see them,” I said, and it was true. The castle was magnificent, probably smaller than some of the more well-known fortresses, like Stirling Castle, but infinitely more beautiful for its relatively petite size. It seemed to be a cross between a mansion and a turreted castle, and I realized that I loved it, cold and hard as the stone walls were.
The library surprised me. Massive oak bookcases
“Aye, that be true,” she said. She turned back to her cooking.
While they spoke, I scanned the massive vaulted kitchen for outlets, wiring, anything remotely modern, but I saw nothing on the stone walls to suggest modern electricity had been installed.
Light came through open windows high on the walls. Grace’s pot hung from a heavy chain over an open wood fire. Mrs. Renwick pulled chains from the ceiling to rotate something roasting over the fire. Sturdy-looking cast-iron cooking utensils hung from hooks on the walls, even something that looked like a bellows. The granite tiles in the floor were appropriately cut in rather uneven rectangles, as if they had been hand hewn, because why would someone have nicely tiled floors in an old castle? Everything looked like the setting for a medieval period film.
“Do ye see anything inconsistent with the eighteenth century?” Colin asked in a soft voice near my ear. I jumped at his nearness and took a step sideways.
“No!” I said hastily. “Not yet.”
He sighed. “I have barely enough servants to run this auld place. Tenants have been leaving Scotland for a chance to own land in America since the ’15, and my father couldna do anything to stop them. Still others moved to Glasgow and Edinburgh after Culloden. I havena the heart to coax people back to the Highlands now to work in the castle. With no one to work the fields, soon I must turn the land over to the grazing of sheep.”
“The clearances,” I said. Admittedly, sometimes I fell for his act.
“Clearances?” Colin repeated as if he wasn’t familiar with the word. “I have read that some landlords wish to clear their land of crofters and turn it over to the grazing of sheep, but I willna willingly force anyone off the land. I have grass enough up in the hills and on the estate for my sheep right now,” he said with a nod, turning to watch the cook and her granddaughter. “I have only a few tenants and families left now, and I hear rumblings that they may wish to emigrate to America as well. Everybody wants his own land. The village has been dying some time for lack of people. Soon, it will be nae more than a collection of empty cottages and shops. Even the tartan weavers have left for the cities, and I must buy my cloth from Glasgow.”
Man, he was good! My heart ached at the misery in his eyes. He shook his head as if to dispel the awful thoughts and turned to me.
“Do ye wish to see the auld dungeons? That is where the soldiers are bedding down.”
“Dungeons?” I squeaked. I shivered, despite the kitchen’s warmth.
“Aye! This is a castle. My forbearers had need of such, if only to secure unruly clansmen and English soldiers. Captain Jones does not like that I put the soldiers in there, but there are some things—a few still—about which the English have no say.”
Colin grinned, and his face lightened.
“No, I don’t think I need to see the dungeons, unless you’ve wired them for electricity but left your cook struggling with organic power.”
He tilted his head, and I knew he pretended not to understand my words.
“Come then. We shall go upstairs.”
I followed him up the narrow stone steps leading back to the center of the castle. We paused in the great room, where we had eaten. I’d already searched that room for wiring and had found none.
“What else is on this floor?”
“The library, a drawing room my mother used, the hall of paintings.”
“I’d love to see them,” I said, and it was true. The castle was magnificent, probably smaller than some of the more well-known fortresses, like Stirling Castle, but infinitely more beautiful for its relatively petite size. It seemed to be a cross between a mansion and a turreted castle, and I realized that I loved it, cold and hard as the stone walls were.
The library surprised me. Massive oak bookcases
Similar Books
