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Muriel recalled the afternoon with great fondness. The others did as well, speaking of their time on the ice as a day they would long remember. As for Muriel, she would always think of the memory the day had brought to her mind when she and the earl had skated on another pond.

Turning the page, Kit said, “Here is Angus Ramsay dining with us. I am so glad I got to know him. Isn’t he a distinguished-looking fellow?”

“That he is,” said Ailie, “and a wonderful man.”

Muriel studied the weathered face Kit had captured with her pencil. In the many lines and hearty smile, she saw a friend she hoped to see again. “A fine gentleman.”

“Those of you who went deer stalking will remember this scene,” offered Kit.

Muriel leaned over to see a glen between two hills and the hunters with their guns over their shoulders, waiting it seemed. Ailie stood to one side with Nash and the setters.

“What were you waiting for?” asked Emily.

“The hinds to appear,” said William. “More particularly, the right kind of hind for the culling.”

Muriel pointed to a small sketch in the bottom corner. “What’s this?”

“That is the aftermath of the avalanche,” replied Kit. “You can see the snow piled up and one deer’s legs sticking out of the snow.”

“Oh my,” said Muriel. She had heard them describe it at dinner that night but to see it, even in miniature, was quite another matter.

Kit flipped to the next drawing. “This is the happy day we brought in the Yule log.”

“Happy for those of you who did not have to drag the beast inside,” said Nick.

“We did it together,” William corrected.

“So we did,” agreed Nick.

Turning the page, Kit announced, “The day everyone decorated the house for Christmas. I thought to capture the kitchen, a room you never see. Here are Emily and Muriel adding green boughs to the shelves with the help of Mrs. Platt and Martha.”

“How thoughtful of you to draw this,” said Emily. “Martha will be ever so pleased to see she was remembered as a part of your holiday.”

“Mrs. Platt must see this as well,” Muriel chimed in.

Kit turned the page to reveal a sketch of all the ladies, even Muriel. “Christmas Eve. You all looked so pretty, I just had to try and record it. I do hope I got the gowns right.”

“You managed to get mine just right,” said Muriel. “What a memory you have, Kit.”

“Well, I did ask to see some of the gowns later to get a bit of our frippery correctly drawn.”

Standing behind his wife, Martin leaned down and kissed the side of her head. “You did very well, Kitten.”

“Since we were always eating it seems, I thought one of the sketches had to be a meal. This is Christmas dinner, roast goose and all the trimmings.”

Many oohs and aahs resounded. Muriel remembered the dishes, especially the desserts. “Won’t Mrs. Platt be pleased to see this?”

“You’re making me hungry,” said Hugh.

“And now for Dunnottar,” announced Kit, who was well into the second sketchbook. “The brooding ruins, but without the ghosts. I really wouldn’t know how to draw one.”

Muriel scrutinized the drawing, seeing the massive dark rock and the ruins resting upon it, reminders of troublesome days in Scotland’s past. In the corners of the drawing were smaller vignettes, the craggy coast as seen from the sea, a storm petrel in flight, and a few of the buildings. One was the chapel.

“I remember well the chapel,” said Nash. “It was there Ailie accepted my proposal of marriage.”

Ailie remembered it well, too, judging by the look she bestowed on Nash.

“And the final three sketches,” said Kit, “are from Stonehaven: The Ship Inn, Nash and Ailie in the church being married and the Hogmanay feast after.”