Page 72 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Epilogue

Dear Cara,

I have done the most ridiculous thing…

―Excerpt of a letter from the Hon’ble Miss Violetta Spencer (cousin and adopted sister to Lady Aisling, Lady Cara and Conor Baxter – Viscount Harleston) to The Right Hon’ble Cara De Vere, Viscountess Latimer.

One year later…

25th June 1851, New House, Wildsyde, Caithness, Scotland.

“Well, Jimmy, what do ye think? Wildsyde is fairly quiet, it’s nae a busy town like Wick, but there is a grand school, and lots of boys yer age and plenty to do. Do ye think ye could like it?”

Jimmy studied the small cottage that sat in a private corner of the grounds of what had been called New House by everyone around. As neither Clara nor Hamilton could think of any finer name for the moment, it had stuck. The far grander building that was to be their home was well on its way to completion and Hamilton hoped he and Clara would be in for Christmas. The cottage, however, was finished entirely, and they both hoped it was pretty and well equipped enough to tempt Jimmy and Mrs Macready away from town.

“Do you like it, Ma?” Jimmy asked Mrs Macready, as his adopted mother stared dazedly at the cottage.

“Like it?” she said, her voice trembling, and then burst into tears.

Jimmy stared at her, and then at Hamilton with wide, panicked eyes.

“I think she likes it fine, Jimmy,” Hamilton said, his tone dry as Clara rushed to hug Mrs Macready.

“It’s beautiful,” she said finally, her voice choked. “But I’ll go nowhere if Jimmy doesnae like it. If ye prefer to stay in town, laddie—” she began, but Jimmy only grinned at her.

“Did you see the all the fine horses Lord Buchanan keeps in his stables? He said there was a pony I might learn to ride on, provided I worked hard at school,” he added with a roll of his eyes, as if this caveat was so obvious it hadn’t needed mentioning. “And Hamilton said he’d have horses too, and that I can look after them and ride them too, if I learn properly.”

“Would ye like that, Jimmy?” Mrs Macready said cautiously. “It would be a big change, all this countryside about us. There are nae shops.”

“No,” Jimmy said slowly. “But it’s a fine house, and there’s lots of places to explore, and the beach… and Lady Buchanan’s brother, Jack, he said his dog, Skye, is due to have puppies. Do you think—?”

“Aye, aye, ye can have a puppy, though it will eat all my best furniture and ruin my rugs I dinnae doubt,” the lady said, laughing and mopping her eyes at the same time. “But are ye sure ye want us both?” she asked, turning back to Clara and Hamilton.

“Of course we want you,” Clara said, shaking her head at Mrs Macready. “I know it’s been difficult for you with Flora in charge of the household, and the truth is, I’m scared to death about running such a large house. I’ve no idea how to go on, and I need you, Mrs M. Please, say you’ll come and be our housekeeper.”

“Clara will nae be satisfied until ye are here,” Hamilton said with a shrug. “And I will nae here the end of her nagging if ye dinnae come, so for the love of God, say ye will.”

“I do not nag, Hamilton Anderson,” Clara objected, glaring at him.

“Sure ye do,” he said equitably. “I just say nothing, ’cause I enjoy it for the most part.”

“Dreadful man,” Clara said with a sigh.

Hamilton winked at her, unrepentant as usual. “Well, why do ye nae go back into the cottage and make a list of anything ye might need that ye have nae?”

Mrs Macready leapt at the suggestion, and they watched, standing arm-in-arm as the lady chattered happily about all the things she would need to do before Christmas, including giving Flora Halliday her notice—something she sounded just a bit gleeful about.

“I think ye have pleased them,” Hamilton said with a snort.

“Wehave pleased them,” Clara allowed, leaning into him with a heavy sigh.

Hamilton glanced down at her with a frown. Turning, he held her by the shoulders, gazing at her critically. “Ye are looking a bit peely wally, love.”

“Why thank you,” Clara said dryly. “I suppose that means the honeymoon is over.”

He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Dinnae start fishing for compliments. Ye are still the bonniest girl in all of Scotland, but ye are as pale as a milk pudding. Are ye ailing?”

Clara swallowed hard, sucking in a deep breath before she shook her head. “No,” she said, “but I did want to ask. You are certain the house will be ready by Christmas?”