“I want to show you some of the castle, at least enough that you can find your way should you become lost.”
He led her back to the hall, pointing out various landmarks to help her remember the way. “At the tapestry of Robert Bruce and the Battle of Stirling, go left.” “That strange sconce, that looks like a gargoyle? Pass through the doorway next to it. . . .” “There’s three doors in the red room, take the middle one. . . .”
Gillian was thoroughly confused by the time they arrived back in the great hall, and she vowed to make him or her maid walk her through it several more times before she attempted it alone. The hall was a bustle of activity. Servants brought their baggage in and stacked it against a wall, and trestle tables were being set up for the evening meal. Much talk and laughter filled the air,but it became subdued the moment Lord Kincreag stepped into the hall. Everyone bent to their tasks with new industry. The earl did not seem to notice.
Gillian looked up at him expectantly.
He gazed around the hall, as if seeing it anew as her guide, then led her back the way they’d come, this time making different turns and using different doors, up and down staircases, some grand, some small and little used. All the while he pointed out various rooms: the gallery, solar, study, library, guest lodgings, and great chambers. Then they moved into an older section of the castle, hung with sheets and covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The windows were all closed up tight, so there was no light save the candle Nicholas had appropriated as they’d moved deeper into the castle.
He had been brisk in his tour, not stopping to linger over anything, answering her questions in monosyllables. Gillian was beginning to feel as if she kept him from something important. He paused in the middle of a large, dark chamber, the candlelight a dim halo surrounding him.
“We don’t use this part of the castle anymore . . . it’s likely not safe. I think it best you stay in the east wing.”
He started to leave, but Gillian wandered across the dark room. Indistinct white shapes lined the walls. His footsteps paused when he realized she wasn’t following him.
“Why?” she asked, running her finger over a sheet-covered structure that came nearly to her chest. It was very big and oddly shaped, but it was difficult to see much without a candle of her own.
“Because no one comes here anymore. It’s not safe.”
“No, I mean, why doesn’t anyone come here anymore?”
He fell silent, and she turned to find he’d moved closer, bringing the faint light with him. The air tasted musty and old, forgotten.
“When . . . Catriona was alive we had a bigger staff. I no longer find it necessary to keep so many servants. My needs are few. I’m sure you’ve heard of nobles with various castles moving among their residences, giving the unoccupied ones an opportunity to be cleaned.” He paused, gazing around the room meditatively. “I prefer Kincreag and rarely reside elsewhere. Before, we would move from one wing to the other, so the unoccupied wing could be cleaned.”
“And now?”
“Now we do not even fill one wing, so we move about within the east wing. Things manage to stay relatively livable.” After a moment, he added, “If you find this unsatisfactory, I could hire more servants to clean.”
“I’m sure I cannot find fault with your ways, my lord—I mean, Nicholas. The east wing seems quite vast.” She touched the structure before her again. “But do you not worry that the rest of the castle will fall into disrepair?”
“No.”
His voice sounded strange, and she looked up. He stared at the same structure on which her hand rested, his brow furrowed, jaw set.
Gillian turned to face it. “May I remove the sheet?”
When he didn’t answer she dragged it off anyway,sending up a cloud of dust. She sneezed violently several times. It was the largest dollhouse Gillian had ever seen, and as she studied it, a gasp of wonder escaped her. It was not just any house, but Kincreag in miniature, right down to the very furnishings. She quickly located her own chambers and saw the bed she would sleep on tonight, small enough for a mouse to snuggle in. It sat upon a dais, with curtains and all. The bedding was a different color, but just as fine, silk ropes tying back the bed curtains. The posts appeared to be carved with the same detail as her own bedposts, but it was difficult to discern in the dim light. The room’s other furnishings also appeared the same, and the candelabra on the cupboard was fitted with tiny wax candles.
“It’s splendid! We must move this—”
“No,” he said so forcefully that Gillian flinched and took a step back.
He circled the miniature castle, holding the candle high. Gillian followed. The right side of the dollhouse had been smashed but not beyond repair.
“Nicholas, let me fix it. I’d love to have it in my chambers. Our children could play—”
“I said no.” A brittle mask had fallen over his face, drawing his skin taut and shadowing his eyes.
“What is it? Why does it upset you?”
“I thought it had been destroyed. I’dorderedit to be destroyed.” He looked away from it now, eyes narrowed, the wheels turning in his head, recalling who’d defied him.
Gillian laid a hand on his sleeve, fearful he meant to rectify the oversight and destroy the house himself. “Ipray you, Nicholas, do not destroy it. I’m charmed by it. I would very much like to have it. I’ll visit it here if you don’t want it brought to the east wing.”
He looked at her fingers on his sleeve, then into her eyes. His face relaxed, and he sighed deeply. “Very well. Leave it here. But I don’t want to see it.”
He turned abruptly and strode from the chamber, not even looking back to see if she followed. He stopped at the doorway, however, and waited for her.
