It was raining. It was always raining. One thing I missed about Connecticut was that it didn't rain all the time as it did here. I missed the home in Litchfield. I loved rainy days there, reading a book in front of the fireplace in a home that seemed much cozier. It was a home that had been designed for a family to gather together in close proximity to one another. It was also the house Ben had built for Lydia. It was a home I loved, but it no longer belonged to my family. Once my father passed, I had been forced to sell it. I had wanted to keep it, but once I became engaged to Stephen, I knew the likelihood of ever stepping foot in that house again was slim and that house deserved to have a family. People might call me crazy for thinking the house needed a family, but it was true and I had found a nice husband and wife with three children willing to make it theirs. The fact that the daughter's name was Lydia had sold me on selling it to them, despite how heartbroken it made me. It had been a sign. Fate. Although, I wasn't so sure I believed in such things anymore.
I stepped outside onto the veranda, although back home I would have called such a place a porch, and I watched the rain lessen to an annoying drizzle. I was thankful the downpour of rain had held off until Lottie and I had returned from another morning adventure. Over the last few days, Lottie had shown me other buildings and places with rich Scottish history in the Highlands. I loved every minute of it. I think the adventures were making me begin to feel like myself again and I think Lottie noticed, which was why she continued to take me out. I was also making progress in the history book. True to her word, it was helping me fall asleep. So much so that I found myself dreaming about the Highlands and men in kilts. Although, there seemed to be a recurring tall red-headed man dressed in a kilt in my dreams. Not that I minded, but I couldn't help but wonder how I had dreamt him up.
Childishly, I held my hand out under a gush of water before I shook it off. I then cast my gaze toward the small cemetery in the distance. I sighed. Stephen had been buried there. I hadn't been to see him since we had laid him to rest. It probably sounded stupid, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say to him. Part of me never wanted to speak to him again, but I knew that I probably needed some sort of closure. I had gotten some closure the day before he had passed and while his death shouldn't have come as a shock, it did. The part of the grieving widow came out of shock over losing everything, not because I had lost the love of my life. Not that those who attended Stephen's funeral knew any better, nor did they need to.
I sighed once more. I didn't have a good reason for procrastinating this. I should probably just get it done and over with. So I walked inside the house to grab an umbrella before I walked slowly, but deliberately down the gravel path that led to the cemetery. I could hear the wind pitter-pattering against my umbrella. I could see the wind rustling the branches on the trees. I could smell the sweet scent of wet grass. I was focusing on everything, but Stephen, who had been my sole focus the last few months of his life. I didn't care to relive those days. But something in the pit of my stomach told me that now was the time to seek my closure.
I stopped in front of his grave and inhaled a deep breath, before exhaling it slowly. "Hello, Stephen," I whispered. I wasn't sure why I was whispering. There was no one around to hear me. I raked my fingers through my hair, removing the pins, allowing it to cascade in soft waves down my back. I supposed it would be rather stupid to ask how he was doing. He was dead. I never had an issue talking to my parents when I got to visit their graves. But my emotions were still raw from Stephen. He was supposed to have been my everything, but he wasn't. Nor would he ever be.
"Sorry, I haven't visited yet. I-I wasn't ready. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure that I'm ready now, but Mrs. Graham gave me an ominous warning the other day when she came over to visit Mrs. Campbell. She said I ought to do it soon before I couldn't. I'm not entirely sure what she means. She's a strange woman. I'm surprised Reverend Wakefield took her on. She's an odd duck to be sure. Speaking of the Reverend, he's coming by for dinner tonight with a couple on their second honeymoon. Not that it really matters...or that you even care. After all, you're dead."
I was procrastinating again, rambling about our dinner guests instead of saying my piece. I pulled my hair behind my ears. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I said barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to hold your hand when you passed. I-I know you asked that of me and I had no intention of refusing you. Your father convinced me that I should get some sleep and that he would wake me if...if...you know. By the time I got to your room, you had already passed. So, I'm sorry."
I twisted the wedding ring on my finger. "Also, I know you made me make you another promise...but I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep that one either. You and I both know it won't be because I'm too deep in grief. It's just that everyone leaves me so it's probably safer for everyone if I don't keep that promise. Besides, who could possibly want me? An American living in Scotland with not a penny to her name."
My hand reached out and touched the headstone. I lithely traced the letters of his name, letting the rain bead on the back of my hand. "I-I don't know that I'll see you again. Your father is growing restless with my presence and is very insistent on marrying off Lottie. I'm thinking of finding work in town. I haven't a clue where I'll go or what I'll do, but I think Mrs. Campbell would be willing to help me out. Maybe I'll even go back to America one day. I don't know. Marrying you changed everything for me. Your death did the same."
I sighed. "I haven't the heart to tell Lottie yet. But soon though. I just figured that as my husband you had the right to know first." I paused and pulled my hand back beneath the umbrella and wiped it against my coat. I had expected to cry. But there really wasn't any love lost between Stephen and me. "Goodbye, Stephen," I said before I turned on my heel and marched back to the house, somehow knowing it would be our last visit for quite some time.
Once I was inside the house, I quickly retreated to my room. I withdrew Of Love and War from my bag and settled down on my bed to read Lydia's story. My favorite parts were always the ones when Ben was involved. Those two had been made for each other. When I was younger I had prayed that God would lead me to the man meant for me, but that didn't happen. Stephen hadn't been meant for me the way Ben had been meant for Lydia and I was fine with that. It was no longer a prayer I fervently prayed.
I must have fallen asleep while reading because the next thing I knew, there was a frantic knock at my door. After I groggily responded, Mrs. Campbell nearly flew inside my room with an exasperated oh dear escaping from her mouth. I caught a brief glimpse of my reflection and acknowledged that my appearance was quite a sight. My dress was severely wrinkled and my tamed hair was no longer so. Mrs. Campbell reached out a hand and helped pull me to my feet.
"We need to fix you up. Mr. Arbuckle would not pleased to see you in such a state, especially in front of guests," she gently told me without a hint of scolding her voice.
"Then maybe I shouldn't go to dinner," I sighed, folding my arms across my chest as Mrs. Campbell began to rummage through my wardrobe.
Mrs. Campbell paused for a moment to look at me. "You and I both know that is not an option." She then went back to my wardrobe and pulled a light blue dress that tied at the waist. "Ah, here we go. This one brings out your eyes. You always look lovely in it."
"Why does it matter whether or not I look lovely? There is no need for me to impress the reverend and I'm sure the man accompanying him will be completely smitten with his wife."
The older woman sighed. "You know how Mr. Arbuckle is as far as appearances are concerned." She then pulled the dress from the hanger and motioned for me to remove my current apparel.
Yes, I did know that all too well. It was something I had quickly learned in the early days of my marriage. At times, I wondered how much of the Stephen I had gotten to know before our wedding day was strictly for appearance's sake and not him at all. I was certain Mrs. Campbell could answer part of that question for me, but I didn't want to put her in a position to be at odds with her employer.
I removed my dress before she helped me into the blue one. She tied the sash tightly at my waist revealing my small figure before she ushered me to sit at my vanity. It was a scene similar to the one the other night with Lottie, but Mrs. Campbell said nothing as she pinned my hair into place on top of my head. It certainly wasn't the most modern hairstyle and I much preferred to let my hair hang loose in long golden curls, but it would do for the evening. Like I had told her, it wasn't like I had anyone I was trying to impress.
I made it downstairs a few minutes before Reverend Wakefield and the couple arrived. I sat on the sofa beside Lottie and could feel the scrutinizing gaze of Mr. Arbuckle on me. I think the only reason I had been enough to garner his approval was the money I had inherited. Money which was no longer mine. I hadn't found it necessary to read carefully read the contract drawn up before our marriage. All my money became part of the Arbuckle estate unless otherwise stated and as far as I knew, Stephen never had a will drawn up. Meaning all my money now belonged to his father, the owner of the Arbuckle estate and it was only a matter of time before my time on the estate was no longer welcomed. But now wasn't the time to think about such matters. Not before a dinner party.
There came a loud knock at the door. Mrs. Campbell scurried from the kitchen to answer it. Lottie and I stood just as Reverend Wakefield and the couple entered the sitting room. I forced a smile as I looked at the woman holding her husband's arm. She was quite pretty. Her dark hair was perfectly coifed and her eyes were nearly the color of gold. She was also tall. Our physical appearances greatly contrasted with the other. Lottie must have caught me watching the woman because she gently nudged me in the ribs and my mind became present once more.
After shaking Stephen Arbuckle Sr.'s hand, Reverend Wakefield introduced the couple to us as the Randalls, Frank and Claire Randall. They weren't Scots, they were English and they were apparently in the Highlands on a second honeymoon after being separated during the war. Claire looked at Lottie and me apprehensively and stuck close to her husband's side, joining in the men's conversation. Although it could have been their years apart that kept her close to his side.
Stephen Sr. suggested that the men get drinks from his study, which was met with a hearty response. The men left, leaving Claire Randall alone with Lottie and me. Lottie offered Claire a seat, which she accepted. Lottie and I sat once more on the sofa. Initially, we sat in awkward silence. It was Lottie who broke the ice. "What is it your husband does?" she asked.
Claire smiled proudly before she said, "He accepted a post at Oxford and starts in two weeks."
"Good for him," Lottie responded. "Although, I suppose it will take some getting used to being a civilian again. Most men in the country are facing that sort of thing."
"I suppose it will take some getting used to myself. I was a nurse all that time." Claire fidgeted with her hands as she shared that piece of information. "I'm not sure I remember how to live without being in a combat tent or sleeping on a cot."
"We assisted in the medical field too," Lottie shared in return. While Lottie usually liked to share that we had attended medical school, now wasn't the time to one-up the other. We had all served and that was all that needed to be acknowledged. Lottie patted my hand. "It should all come back like riding a bicycle."
I simply nodded my head. I knew Lottie was simply making polite conversation. She had acknowledged to me in private that it wouldn't be that easy for everyone to return to their former roles.
"Forgive me if I'm intruding, but I am curious about your relation," Claire said. "Miss Arbuckle and Mrs. Arbuckle..."
"Ruthie is my sister-in-law," Lottie said gently nudging me once more.
I wasn't certain why I was acting so strange around Claire. I felt in conflict with her for some reason. I had just met her. There was no reason for me to be in conflict with her. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was like one from my childhood days when fighting over a doll at school. It seemed stupid, but I couldn't help but feel that way. Only, I wasn't entirely sure what I was fighting her for. There was nothing of hers I could see wanting.
Lottie nudged me again. I turned my head toward her and she nodded her head toward Claire with a slightly exasperated expression on her face. I cleared my throat and turned to look at Claire. "Pardon me, I'm not feeling quite myself this evening." I gently waved my hand to cool my flushing face.
"It's all right," Claire responded she paused for a moment before continuing. "I was only wondering about your husband."
"He-uh-Stephen is-uh, dead, you see," I said.
Claire's brow furrowed. "I'm terribly sorry. Was it the war?"
I licked my lips. I was never sure how much of my life to share with people, especially not a complete stranger. I cleared my throat. "He died at home," was all I managed to say, not wanting to go into complete detail.
Claire nodded her head and quickly apologized. I hoped that one day I wouldn't be quite as awkward explaining Stephen's death. Thankfully, the men returned with drinks in hand before our conversation could continue. Frank Randall came to his wife's side and offered her his arm. Stephen Sr. offered Lottie his. That left me and Reverend Wakefield. While I wanted nothing more than to walk to dinner on my own, as I did every other night, I knew that now was not the time to make a scene. So, I gently placed my hand on the reverend's arm as he led me into the dining room.
Thankfully, I was seated beside Lottie at dinner. We sat across from the Randalls. As I soon found out, Frank Randall was a historian. Part of the reason he had brought his wife to the Highlands was to learn more about one of his ancestors Jonathan Wolverton Randall, more commonly known as Black Jack Randall in the 18th century. Lottie stiffened a bit beside me at the mention of his name, but she said nothing. Frank continued to prattle-on about his ancestor. Something about the Duke of Sandringham. Even Stephen Sr. looked a bit bored on the subject but a connection with an Oxford professor was one he wouldn't pass up. Stephen Sr. was always looking for new connections to help garner more influence and eventually more wealth.
I knew it was wrong to think such terrible things about the man seated at the same table as me, but I couldn't help it. The man made it easy for one to think about such things. At least when one got to know him. At dinner in front of the Randalls and Reverend Wakefield, he was a perfectly amiable and a proper gentleman.
Frank then directed his attention toward me. "Forgive me, Mrs. Arbuckle, but I can't help but to have noticed your accent. American is it?"
I nodded my head as I took a sip of my wine.
"Where did you originate from?"
"Litchfield, Connecticut," I responded. It was odd to have his attention, but I quickly pieced together his interest...purely as a historian. So, I decided to humor him. "I'm descended from Benjamin Tallmadge, a Continental military officer, and spymaster during the American Revolution."
Frank smiled. "How fascinating. American history isn't my specialty, but if you'd like, I can find out more for you, if you'd like."
I glanced at Claire. She seemed to stiffen a bit at his offer. I sensed that she felt the same feeling with me that I felt with her. There was an uneasy undercurrent between us. While to the casual observer, we were more than cordial with each other. But we both felt it. I then looked at Frank once more. "I appreciate the offer, but thankfully, Ben wrote a memoir and so did his wife, Lydia."
Frank arched an eyebrow. "You said he was a spymaster?"
I nodded my head. "The Culper Spy ring, although Ben never really spoke of them. Lydia gave bits and pieces, at least as far as she was concerned."
"So, there is something for me to research," Frank said with a smile before he took a sip of his whisky.
He had me there. I glanced at Claire again. She gave a curt nod of blessing along with a forced smile. "I won't stop you," I responded. "Although, I'm sure America would be grateful for anything you might dig up."
Frank smiled. Claire gently patted his arm. I suspected that there were troubles in their marriage judging by how possessive Claire seemed to be. Although they had said they had been apart for five years and had only been together a grand total of ten days during that time. They were both likely different people. Claire had likely scrutinized me as much as I had done to her. Perhaps he had taken refuge in some pretty blonde's arms while they were apart and I reminded her of that fact. I didn't know. But what I did know was that she really needn't worry about me around her husband. I had sworn off men and was going to live as a widow for the rest of my days.
After we had eaten dessert, we returned to the sitting room once again while the reverend and Stephen Sr. went to fetch something from the study. Frank stood near the fireplace with an arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders. "While I have the two of you alone, I was wondering if either of you were aware of any haunts we should be interested in visiting. Something more for the locals."
"Lottie would know better than me," I offered.
Lottie nodded and looked over her shoulder. She then leaned in closer to the Randalls as she started to whisper. "If the reverend asks, you didn't hear it from me."
Frank nodded enthusiastically.
"For the Feast of Beltane, the druids will dance a top Craigh na Dun weaving through the stones with lanterns dressed in white as a predawn ritual. While it is quite pagan, it's certainly a sight to be seen. Should you go, be careful not to show yourselves."
"That sounds fascinating, doesn't it, Claire?" Frank asked his wife.
"Quite," Claire added.
Frank thanked Lottie for the information and added, "It will be our little secret." He smiled. Lottie nodded. Just then the Reverend and Stephen Sr. returned. While I was certain that the reverend was a good man, I had a feeling that Stephen Sr. was the one keeping his ministry afloat. Which then made me wonder what Stephen Sr. was getting in return. I didn't know. I just hoped the reverend hadn't waded out too far for the financial support.
An artifact behind glass windows of a cabinet caught Frank's attention. He walked over to it, squinting his eyes to see better. He then turned toward his wife. "Darling, come look at this," he said and extended his hand toward his wife.
Claire accepted his hand and looked inside with a puzzled expression on her face. Stephen Sr. stepped beside them and said, "I sponsored a dig in the Middle East years ago. A man named Beauchamp brought it back for me."
Claire's eyes widened. "You wouldn't happen to be speaking of Quentin Beauchamp, would you?"
Stephen Sr. smiled and nodded his head. "Aye, I would. Do you happen to know him, lass?"
"He was my uncle on my father's side. I went on that very dig with him. I helped him collect that for you." Claire pointed at the artifact.
I would have continued to pay closer attention to Stephen Sr.'s conversation with Claire, but Lottie started muttering to herself beside me. "Claire Beauchamp," she said to herself. Lottie's face was pale and I looked at her curiously, but she waved me off before muttering once more. "It's nothing, a mere coincidence."
I decided I would have to ask her later what she meant. Tomorrow would probably be the perfect time depending on what outing she had planned to get us out of the house. For the remainder of the Randalls and Reverend Wakefield's visit, we continued to chat. The tension remained between Claire and me, but it seemed to be at least tolerable. Although, for the life of me I couldn't understand it.
It was late when the Randalls and Reverend Wakefield took their leave. Stephen Sr. suggested that the Randalls should stop by the next time they were in Inverness. Of course, he only did this so that he could receive an invitation from them, which he did. It was an invitation he wasn't likely to pass up. I knew I shouldn't be so cynical of the man, but given my experiences with him, it couldn't be helped.
Once they were gone, I retired to my room. I had just put on my nightgown and unpinned my hair when Lottie appeared in my room. "Don't forget to set an alarm," she told me.
"An alarm? For what?" I asked.
"I meant what I said to the Randalls. The druids' dance is a spectacular sight and one I intend for you to see as well." She smiled and set the alarm clock for me before leaving my room.
If only I would have known the adventure I was about to embark on. I would have packed my bag better.
Author's Note: So...we met the Randalls. I bet that answers some questions, huh? And probably leaves some. Haha. I'll obviously try to answer most of them as I continue to write the story. Also, sorry it's been awhile. Life's been getting the better of me. Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/favorited/reviewed. It means a lot to me.