a fine view of the Sound of Raasay, with the Storr Plateau rising at their backs. Between the ruins and the patch of woods that hid the house was a huge green meadow, dotted equally with mossy boulders and a herd of sturdy Highland sheep. A pair of black and white collies raced around the edges of the herd, following the whistles and calls of the shepherd who stood by the drystone fence at the bottom of the hill.
"What about Gabrielle?" Hannah asked after another few minutes of silence passed between them.
Harriet turned a puzzled look on her. "Who's Gabrielle?"
"You could be, if you like, if you ever take a new assignment," Hannah said. "We were discussing your taking a new name."
"So we were," Harriet answered. She rubbed a spot between her eyes. "I have a headache. Don't like Gabrielle," she added, and sighed. "Sounds a bit like Abigail."
Not to Hannah's ear, but she didn't say so. Hannah was well aware that this particular daughter would not admit any sort of weakness to anyone but her. Hannah also knew better than to offer overt comfort or sympathy for Harriet's pain. Pain that was far more than mere headaches, she was sure. The girl had an utterly haunted look that sent worry and anger through Hannah. Whatever had that man done to her? She was certain Harriet's malaise was somehow connected to the toplofty Lord Martin Kestrel.
"What sort of assignment do you have in mind?" Harriet looked her mother in the face at last, and Hannah was disturbed to see the desperation that filled her daughter's eyes. "Something far away?" Harriet asked with a most unseemly eagerness. "I could use a change of pace."
Hannah held up a hand. "Steady on, dear. We have you home at last; let your family enjoy you for a while. Rest and enjoy your holiday away from your flighty ambassador."
"He isn't flighty," Harriet instantly defended the man. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. I don't want to talk about him."
"I see." Meaning, of course, that he was all she wanted to talk about. Interesting. Hannah waited patiently for the story to come out.
Harriet twisted her hands nervously together in her lap and looked out at the distant view of the sea again. "Mum?"
"Yes, love?"
"I have something to confess." Harriet sighed. "I did not come home just for a month's holiday."
"Ah." Hannah put her hand on Harriet's shoulder. "I suspected as much."
Harriet gave her a half-amused sideways glance. "Was your clue my stumbling home looking like something the cat dragged in?"
"I thought perhaps your luggage had been lost in transit."
"You're a very good liar, Mum. Always the unflappable matriarch welcoming the chicks back to the nest."
"Thank you, love. Pity your brothers Christopher and Michael haven't made their scheduled migrations yet. I've been looking forward to having a full nest for a while this summer. Christopher's finally coming home from America, but we don't expect him for a few days yet. Michael should have been home from university by now, like his twin, but he probably got distracted chasing a bit of skirt—"
"Mother!" Harriet gave the faintest of laughs.
"Well, I'm not an innocent, am I? I know my boys. Aunt Phoebe sent him off on an errand to France after his classes were done, and had some other errand for him after that, I think. A handsome, wicked and charming lad like that loose in the fleshpots of Paris?" She chuckled. "I almost pity the ladies."
"Other people don't have wicked mothers," Harriet answered. "I pity them."
Harriet's brief good humor evaporated like a mist on the moors and Hannah waited through another interval of dismal silence. She watched a hawk circle above the ruins overhead and the collies chasing around the edges of the flock down on the ground. She didn't think Harriet noticed any of the busy world around them, lost as she was in her own personal troubles. Her daughter was too conscientious not to have reported any professional problems the moment she walked in the door three days ago.
Harriet
"What about Gabrielle?" Hannah asked after another few minutes of silence passed between them.
Harriet turned a puzzled look on her. "Who's Gabrielle?"
"You could be, if you like, if you ever take a new assignment," Hannah said. "We were discussing your taking a new name."
"So we were," Harriet answered. She rubbed a spot between her eyes. "I have a headache. Don't like Gabrielle," she added, and sighed. "Sounds a bit like Abigail."
Not to Hannah's ear, but she didn't say so. Hannah was well aware that this particular daughter would not admit any sort of weakness to anyone but her. Hannah also knew better than to offer overt comfort or sympathy for Harriet's pain. Pain that was far more than mere headaches, she was sure. The girl had an utterly haunted look that sent worry and anger through Hannah. Whatever had that man done to her? She was certain Harriet's malaise was somehow connected to the toplofty Lord Martin Kestrel.
"What sort of assignment do you have in mind?" Harriet looked her mother in the face at last, and Hannah was disturbed to see the desperation that filled her daughter's eyes. "Something far away?" Harriet asked with a most unseemly eagerness. "I could use a change of pace."
Hannah held up a hand. "Steady on, dear. We have you home at last; let your family enjoy you for a while. Rest and enjoy your holiday away from your flighty ambassador."
"He isn't flighty," Harriet instantly defended the man. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. I don't want to talk about him."
"I see." Meaning, of course, that he was all she wanted to talk about. Interesting. Hannah waited patiently for the story to come out.
Harriet twisted her hands nervously together in her lap and looked out at the distant view of the sea again. "Mum?"
"Yes, love?"
"I have something to confess." Harriet sighed. "I did not come home just for a month's holiday."
"Ah." Hannah put her hand on Harriet's shoulder. "I suspected as much."
Harriet gave her a half-amused sideways glance. "Was your clue my stumbling home looking like something the cat dragged in?"
"I thought perhaps your luggage had been lost in transit."
"You're a very good liar, Mum. Always the unflappable matriarch welcoming the chicks back to the nest."
"Thank you, love. Pity your brothers Christopher and Michael haven't made their scheduled migrations yet. I've been looking forward to having a full nest for a while this summer. Christopher's finally coming home from America, but we don't expect him for a few days yet. Michael should have been home from university by now, like his twin, but he probably got distracted chasing a bit of skirt—"
"Mother!" Harriet gave the faintest of laughs.
"Well, I'm not an innocent, am I? I know my boys. Aunt Phoebe sent him off on an errand to France after his classes were done, and had some other errand for him after that, I think. A handsome, wicked and charming lad like that loose in the fleshpots of Paris?" She chuckled. "I almost pity the ladies."
"Other people don't have wicked mothers," Harriet answered. "I pity them."
Harriet's brief good humor evaporated like a mist on the moors and Hannah waited through another interval of dismal silence. She watched a hawk circle above the ruins overhead and the collies chasing around the edges of the flock down on the ground. She didn't think Harriet noticed any of the busy world around them, lost as she was in her own personal troubles. Her daughter was too conscientious not to have reported any professional problems the moment she walked in the door three days ago.
Harriet
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