Page 75 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

“Not a word. My mother never said anything about Isadora being married twice, let alone who her second husband was. Nor did the rest of my family, come to that.”

She glanced up at my office paintings again, before returning her attention to me. “I can’t say I’m surprised they didn’t want it to discuss it. Jonathan Gray’s name was dirt around here. From my research, he could be charming when he wanted to be, but he had no scruples whatsoever.”

“Mrs Walker, how much do you know about this Jonathan Gray? Up until that letter, I’d never heard of him.”

“He wasn’t a pillar of the local community. I’m sure that marriage wasn’t one that Isadora would have been proud of. Bad enough that she was considered a bit wild, let alone another marriage to the likes of him.”

I sank back, digesting all of this. “And he was the son of Leonora and Chadwick Gray, who owned Castle Marrian?”

“That’s right. The very same. A spoilt, audacious individual, if ever there was one. Goodness knows he must have charmed my great-aunt though, when she married him.”

“And what happened to Isadora?”

“All I could find ou, was that after their marriage foundered, she took off to London in 1898 and was never seen or heard from again.”

I thought of the peacock tea set concealed in the bottom of my wardrobe and the letter to Jonathan Gray from Briar Forsyth nestling in beside it. “I worked as a wedding planner up at Castle Marrian before opening my crockery shop and I never even knew that his family once owned it.”

Mrs Walker hitched up a brow as she finished the remnants of her tea. “Oh, did you? It’s such an impressive place. I can’t say that surprises me that you weren’t aware of the Grays’ links to it. I think the folks around here have airbrushed them out of the history books.”

I eyed her. “Is that why you didn’t want to keep the tea set? Because it belonged to Jonathan Gray’s family?”

Ophelia Walker nodded. “I didn’t want any connection to that man – not after what I discovered about him.”

I hoped my silence might encourage her to expand, and after a few moments of inward debate, Ophelia Walker gave a resigned sigh. “When I discovered he had been married to Isadora, I did some more digging. It would seem that our Mr Gray was rather partial to the young ladies of Briar Glen and ended up fathering several children; well, when I say fathering…”

I blinked at her. “You mean getting these young women pregnant and then abandoning them?”

“Exactly. The local librarian was very helpful. He pointed me in the right direction when it came to birth records.”

Well. It sounded like Isadora had had a lucky escape in the end. “This lady who signed the tea set letter,” I began again, “Briar Forsyth. Do you happen to know anything about her?”

“Not as yet,” she admitted. “But I’m hoping to remedy that.”

“Would you like some help?” I offered. “That letter she wrote to Jonathan Gray touched me and … well … it sounds as if she could very well be another casualty of his.”

Mrs Walker’s lips pursed. “I don’t doubt that for a second.” She inclined her silky, silvery head and a glimmer of a smile emerged, banishing her usual stern veneer. “You must think I’m a silly old fool, abandoning that tea set the way I did and then hurrying away. But after losing my sister so suddenly and then discovering the link that tea set has to the likes of Jonathan Gray, well, I don’t think I was thinking straight. Grief can do some very strange things to you.”

My thoughts strayed to my grandmother. “There’s no need for you to explain, Mrs Walker. Losing someone you love, well, it’s like a part of you dies with them and all rationality goes out the window.”

She gave a watery smile. “I’m so sorry I didn’t do this before. Thank you for being so understanding.” Her powdered cheeks pinged with gratitude. “I would be delighted if you were willing to help me, Sophie.”

I watched her rise to her feet, scooping up her leather bag and pushing it under one arm. “And please call me Ophelia.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Before she left, Ophelia suggested we meet up at her house at the end of the week. “That will give me a bit of time to sort out Annabel’s notes. I just wish she had been given the chance to do more of what she loved before she…” Her voice tailed off into a whisper.

I reached out and patted her on the arm. “Are you sure you feel up to this? The last thing I want to do is upset you or distress you.”

Ophelia smiled and jutted out her chin in an act of defiance. “In a lot of ways, it will be comforting. It will be giving her research the attention it deserves. She was so enthusiastic about her history.” Her face melted into a wistful expression.

We arranged for me to pop round after I closed The Cup That Cheers on Friday.

“We’ll have dinner,” she insisted, brooking no argument. “Then we can get going over a glass of Hal’s homemade wine.”

I decided, after the mention of Hal’s delicious-sounding libation, that I wouldn’t drive to Ophelia’s after work on Friday, but that I would take a taxi there and home instead.

The two elderly sisters had departed, clutching their purchases, by the time Ophelia left.