She knew Sullivan could hardly stand it, and yet as her father was the majority shareholder, Sullivan kept silent, content as long as he was left to his work.
“Vincent, I happen to be feeling rather tired at the moment,” she said, which was not entirely untrue. She had certainly wearied of speaking with him. “If you’ll excuse me, I am going to find my way to my car.”
“If that’s what you would prefer,” he said, though his eyes somewhat darkened as if to tell her that this conversation was not yet finished.
“I do,” she said, and slipped out of the car back to her own small quarters as quickly as possible. She lay her head down on the narrow cot, closing her eyes. And, it seemed, perhaps she was more tired than she had thought, for soon enough she was fast asleep, her mind filled with dreams of forests, mountains, and freedom unlike any she had ever imagined.
3
Rachel managed to keep to herself for the remainder of the journey by simply not spending much time outside her sleeping car, which was awfully dull. She became rather used to the background chug-chug-chugging of the train’s engine, soothing her as she slept. When the noise dimmed, she woke with a start. They must be reaching the Perth station, she thought. As she emerged from her cabin, she dazedly looked around her, finding that she was, at the very least, mercifully alone, with Vincent nowhere in sight. She made her way off the train, looking for her father. Apparently, he hadn’t deemed her important enough to wait for. She sighed.
It was past the breakfast hour, and Rachel wondered if she had slept through the meal on the train, or if it had not yet been served. Either way, she hoped it was available on the next train, which was to take them to Inverness, nearly all the way to their destination.
She wound her way through the other passengers coming and going from one train to another, finally finding the Highland Railway. Truly, would it have been so difficult for her father to wait for her? She boarded the train, seeing him and Vincent sitting across from one another at a table in the dining car, playing cards. Her father said nothing as she walked by, though Vincent gave her a wink that made her cringe. She found her own sleeping cabin, where she settled herself before finding the other ladies, determined she would enjoy herself for the rest of the journey.
That was exactly what she did. She finally did have lunch, settling her grumbling stomach. She took out the embroidery she had brought with her to help pass the time and worked away while chatting with the other women. She wasn’t particularly talented, but enjoyed it as a way to keep her fingers busy. Everything around her was forgotten and her conversation died, however, when the Scottish Highlands began to make their appearance through the window.
She was in awe of the beauty that lay before her. Rolling green land, backdropped by mountains that seemed nearly transparent in the mist that surrounded them, was on full display. Streams of water descending into small lakes appeared as the train rolled by, and white balls of sheep dotted much of the land.
Rachel had seen the English countryside before, of course, and had heard stories and seen paintings of Scotland, but she had never imagined it would look anything like this.
When they disembarked at Inverness, carriages with horses awaited them, which would take them to Aldourie, close to where they were staying. They were not nearly, of course, as fine as the carriages she may have typically ridden in through the streets of London, but as worn as the seats were in places, they were comfortable.
She pushed aside the window curtain as they rolled over the bumpy cart paths and drove deeper into the Highlands. The acres of green hills rolling down into a shining lake below took her breath away. The lake was long, wide, and the full moon cut a swath through the gathering darkness of night, as if lighting a path across the lake to the castle that rose above it on the other side. It was magic, the showcase of all of God’s blessed work in one place. It made Rachel’s heart soar, and a wide smile broke out on her face.
They rolled up to a large stone building, not quite a castle but certainly impressive nonetheless. The man who emerged from the front doors to greet them was handsome, dressed in a short kilt and a white shirt. He looked very much the Highland man she had heard of, his long sandy blond hair flowing in the breeze. As he approached with a candle in hand to light the way in front of him, a wide grin of welcome crossed his face.
“Good evening ladies, gentlemen,” he said, reaching out a hand to help the women out of the carriages that had pulled up in front of him. “Welcome to Darfield Keep, my home, and yours for the next several days. I’m pleased to meet you. Rory MacTavish, at your service.” He gave an extravagant bow.
Her father blustered by the man, looking around him. “You are the only one to welcome us?” he
