“Anna can accompany you,” Marie said. Her sister and the earl exchanged a secret glance.
No chance of escaping it, Catriona lamented. “It will be lovely,” she said, for lack of a more enthusiastic response.
The sight of her home made Catriona expel a sigh of relief that the night drew finally to a close. Mumbling a good-night, she flew upstairs to get rid of these constraining clothes. Tucked in bed, she fell asleep with memories of green woods and fresh lakes going through her mind.
Next morning, she entered her house flushed from her ride with Debranua to peep at a newspaper lying not yet pressed on the mantel. Her father not being home, The Times used to sit around unread. Well, not that unread, to tell the truth. Most days, Catriona managed to pilfer it and carry it to her chambers. Predictably, the publications aimed at ladies irritated her with their irrelevant articles. Books or The Times piqued her interest much more. She skimmed the day’s pages while she waited for breakfast to be served.
As she did, her eyes fell on a classified advertisement: “Horse Experts required. Unruly stallion needs extra attention. Applications to Fingal McKendrick.” And an address came next.
Her dark gaze lit on the page. Any highlander worth their salt knew the McKendrick’s horseflesh was magnificent. The second McKendrick brother treasured his horses and cared for them as if they were family. Not to mention that the clan had enough money to afford the best. Catriona had never seen their horses but not for lack of keenness. Over the years, she had spent too little time in her home country to be able to do so.
She would give anything, just about anything, to roam their stables—even if only for five minutes.
And she could help them in this. She was good with horses, loved them, loved riding and everything related to their care. Since childhood, she had been interested in horses. Most of the first fourteen years she spent in the McTavish manor had been dedicated to their stable. Of course, they did not possess the same kind of top-of-the-top quality one found in the McKendrick’s stables, but still…
In time, she would be related to the powerful clan, she would be Fingal’s sister-in-law, after all. It would not take too long for her to have the opportunity to visit them.
But that was likely years in the future…
What was she thinking? Not considering…? No, surely not.
What if she had the chance, though? Her mother would not mind if she travelled for a few weeks, would she? Summer drew close, and they would leave London for her family’s seat in the country anyway.
Temptation assailed her like a storm. The longing for her birthplace and the possibility of visiting such a mythic collection of equines. Oh, how marvellous!
Trying to convince her mother would be a chore, no doubt. Catriona could travel with her maid. They had more than one carriage; Debranua would come, too. She was in for the best summer in many, many years.
If you never try, you never know, goes the saying.
Without thinking any further, she rushed to her escritoire and grabbed paper and ink.
“Why on Earth would you want to spend the summer in Scotland?” her mother asked in a rather high-pitched tone.
The conversation played out not for the first time. Or the second. For days, Catriona had been on a field campaign to convince her mother. The first day she had mentioned the subject, Lady McTavish almost had a fit. To hear that her first-born wanted to travel by herself to the very confines of the planet did not ring conventional at all. But then, Catriona never stuck too much to tradition. Not the English ones, mind you. But this request blew up all the previous little eccentricities her daughter had ever displayed.
When, as a girl, she asked to wear a tartan dress right in the middle of London, her mother granted her wish once or twice. When, as a youth, she asked to oversee the breeding of the horses, the parent allowed it for a short while. When, as a debutante, she had wondered if she could learn to ride astride, her mother deemed it too much. Though she later came to know the girl had tried it in a trip to the Highlands.
But this…?
So her mother was well aware of how her eldest longed for that savage country, with roads that were more potholes than paved ways, with a primitive system of clans, and Gaelic, a language that resisted modernity. Thankfully, the McTavish had consented to his lady educating the girls in London, the bastion of civilization and refinement. Even if he used to argue that those pristine qualities rested only on the surface, for how could the city be so civilised if it contained Southwark? How could it be so refined with its most shameful currency—sex—and prostitution of all kinds? His wife gave him no heed, however, and got her wish to bring her daughters here.
“I thought to stay there for a while.” Catriona kept her voice neutral, but the eagerness that coursed through her would be enough to heat the house for several winters.
“This is absolutely out of the ordinary!” Her brows pleated in contrariety.
“I see, mama. But you know I miss it there terribly.” She used a confessional voice in the hopes to move Marie. “Don’t deny me, please.”
Lady McTavish rubbed her brow in worry. Then she looked at her daughter and sighed, exasperated. “Alright, Catriona,” she said, defeated. Her hand stayed her daughter’s cheering. “But you take the smaller carriage, your maid, Flora, and a footman.” She paused and looked at her eldest firmly. “And when you return, we settle the engagement party with Tremaine.”
The condition disheartened her, but the victory of getting permission to travel overrode everything. “Thank you so dearly much, mama!” It came heartfelt.
“Should anything happen to you, your father will kill me!” she vented.
“I’ll be careful, don’t worry. And I’ll write you as soon as I arrive.” Her hands squeezed her mother’s, not hiding her excitement. “Oh, mama!” She enfolded the elder lady in a hug.
“Go, Catriona, before I come to my senses and change my mind.”
She did not waste any more time.