A Trick of the Light Ali Carter (best books to read now .txt) 📖

showed such enthusiasm for drawing Highland cows, we’ve cancelled the life class and this morning you’ll be out in the field instead.’

‘Brilliant,’ said Shane.

‘Yeah, I’d much rather be outside,’ said Lianne. ‘Means we don’t have to listen to Louis’ jazz.’

‘What would you prefer? R&B?’

‘Anything but jazz.’

‘I hear you were on stage last night, Lianne,’ said Zoe.

‘She saved me,’ cried Felicity. ‘I’d have fainted if I’d had to dance.’

‘Lianne loved it.’ Shane tapped her on the back.

‘I sure did.’

‘So, you’ll all be happy drawing cows this morning?’ said Fergus.

‘Not in the field,’ exclaimed Jane.

‘No. Don’t worry, they’ll be fenced off.’

‘What a relief.’

‘It looks jolly chilly outside,’ shivered Felicity.

‘Well, perhaps, darling, you could arrange some thermoses. Put something warm in them, you know.’ Fergus revealed his undomesticated hand – surely he could pass this message onto Mhàiri himself?

‘I’ll get a basket of goodies made up.’ Zoe fitted the bill of a classic wife (one with servants, that is).

‘Susie,’ said Rupert. ‘That was a charming friend of yours we met last night.’

‘Yes,’ said Zoe, ‘wasn’t that a coincidence. I hear he’s coming to join the ceilidh. Angel, I hope you offered him a bed?’

‘He’s staying in Buchtermuchty, you know, that clapped-out old building on the corner of the high street.’

‘Poor him.’

‘There was a crowd of them, I’m sure it’s better than we think.’

Rupert’s voice boomed across the table. ‘He must be keen to see you, Susie, if he’s deserting the stag party to come here.’

Shane wolf-whistled.

‘He’s just a friend,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘I don’t blame him coming here,’ said Jane. ‘It’s terribly common this obsession with stag dos.’

‘Part of the reason I invited him,’ said Fergus, ‘is he’s all alone tonight.’

‘How come?’ asked Rupert.

‘He didn’t want to drive south on a hangover.’

‘What a sensible chap.’

I could have told them, that’s a trained heart surgeon for you. But no, I wasn’t going to big Toby up, he could pave his own way tonight and I wouldn’t be giving him an ounce of help.

Minty reached for my empty bowl. ‘Shall I take that for you?’

‘Yes please. Thank you.’

‘Mine too,’ said Shane.

Mhàiri came bustling through the swing door carrying a plate full of hot toast. The steam was rising in the cold air of the room.

‘Do you want some, Susie?’ said Lianne as she reached for a slice.

‘No thanks.’

‘Oh, go on,’ said Louis, ‘this marmalade’s delicious.’

‘I’m so pleased you like it,’ said Fergus. ‘My mother made a batch every year…well, Mhàiri made it but under my mother’s instruction.’

The shrill of the telephone sent him scooting out the room and, full of inquisitiveness – the call could be the art dealer arranging Jamie Tumbleton-Smith’s visit – I had a sudden urge to eavesdrop. So, I refused Louis’ cajoling of a piece of toast and made my excuses and left.

I watched the library door close behind Fergus and searched for some plausible cover, an object nearby to look at.

My eyes settled on a long list of Muchton Earls carved into a wooden board just to the left of the door.

1715 Hew Angus 1st Earl Muchton 1760–1770

1737 Angus Hew 2nd Earl Muchton 1770–1791

1762 Malcolm Angus 3rd Earl Muchton 1791–1823

1787 Fergus Robert 4th Earl Muchton 1823–1847

1822 Malcolm Robert 5th Earl Muchton 1847–1873

1865 Robert Angus 6th Earl Muchton 1873–1911

1897 Iona Emma 7th Countess Muchton 1911–1943

1914 Malcolm Fergus 8th Earl Muchton 1943–1944

1938 Robert Hew 9th Earl Muchton 1944–2015

I couldn’t hear a word from Fergus and ended up becoming genuinely interested in the Muchton peerage. I was working out at what age each head of the family inherited the title. Forty-five…thirty-three… twenty-nine…thirty-six…twenty-five…EIGHT, wow, that’s young. I bet the girls threw themselves at him. Fourteen…the Countess…

‘Susie,’ said Fergus, giving me a fright. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d be standing right here.’

‘My fault.’ I looked straight at him but he turned away. So I stood, silent, hoping whatever he said next would give something away. But no, he looked up at the board and said full of amusement, ‘There are certain names us Muchtons are keen on.’

‘Countess Iona Emma breaks it up a bit.’ Finally, I had an opportunity to bring her up.

‘She certainly does,’ he said and I jumped in with, ‘I’d love to know more about her.’

‘Ah well, there’s an interesting story there. Iona got married aged sixteen, imagine that nowadays, it was a ploy to get her pregnant before the First World War. Her parents recruited a suitable husband. However, unbeknown to them this pair were already in love. He was twenty-five years Iona’s elder –’ I knew she’d be a go-getta ‘– the bachelor uncle of her school friend. He gave her a son and then sadly got wounded. They weren’t able to have any more children.’

‘Did he die from his wounds?’

‘Yes, poor woman, lost him in 1922 and then her only son died aged thirty.’

‘Your grandfather?’ I said, glad to be able to bring up the man in the portrait.

‘Yes. Hence why my father inherited the title aged six.’

‘That’s so sad he grew up without his dad.’

‘I agree, although he believed his father’s spirit lived on in the house. Not that that was a good thing; apparently it used to haunt him in the night.’

‘Seriously?’

Auchen Laggan Tosh is old and cold and in need of restoration, and although I sensed unhappiness in the atmosphere, I didn’t feel spooked here at all. I’m susceptible to ghosts. I’ve never actually seen one, but I know when they’re about.

‘It’s nonsense,’ said Fergus, and I agreed.

Then, taking a huge risk, I said, ‘The portrait of your grandfather in the dining room has been painted over, hasn’t it?’

Fergus’s face lit up.

‘How on earth do you know that?’ His brow furrowed as he stared at me intensely.

‘I could see an extra eye.’

‘Really?’

Fergus possibly hadn’t noticed it before.

‘Yes…just.’

‘That’s amazing. You’re right, my father had the head re-painted in profile on top of the original face. He couldn’t bear seeing his father looking at him down the dining room table. It worked as far as putting his mind at rest. He never mentioned the spirit