do you mean?’
‘Himself has obviously decided that this place is not worth wasting his time on.’
‘He hasn’t decided anything. He’s not even been here a month.’
‘And not a single sign has there been that he’s going to be remaining here another. He forbade the formal welcoming at the pier, and there’s been no word of the Rescinding. Not that the castle is in any fit state to be used. And that’s another thing. He’s the laird, and he’s living here at the Home Farm. It’s obvious he has no plans to stay here. He’ll be off as soon as he can decently go, back to building his bridges.’
There was no doubting the belligerence in the woman’s voice now. ‘Innes hasn’t made any decisions about the castle. He’s been spending his time looking at the land, because—’
‘Because he plans to do what all the landlords are doing, break up the crofts and put sheep on them. Does he think we’re daft? Sheep. That’s what he’ll do, that’s what they all do. Get rid of the tenants. Bring in a bailiff. Out with the old, and in with the new. That’s what Himself is doing, and then it will be back to Edinburgh or London or wherever he’s been hiding these last fourteen years, and you with him, and he’ll go back to pretending Strone Bridge doesn’t exist because it’s too hard for him to—’ Mhairi broke off suddenly. ‘Never mind.’
Ainsley stared at her in shock. ‘He has made no mention of sheep, and he has no intentions of going anywhere for at least—for some time,’ she amended, for she did not imagine that Innes would like the terms of his father’s will made public.
A shrug greeted this remark. Ainsley risked pouring the pair of them another cup of coffee. ‘What is this thing you mentioned? A restitution?’
‘Rescinding.’ Mhairi took a sip of her coffee. ‘A forgiving and forgetting. After the burial of the old laird, a feast is held for all to welcome in the new laird. It is a wiping clean of the slate, of debts and grudges and disputes, a sign that they have been buried with the old. But since Himself was not here for the burial...’
‘Can it not be held on another day?’ Ainsley asked.
‘To my knowledge it never has been.’
‘Yes, but if it is held on another day would this Rescinding be invalid?’
Mhairi shook her head slowly. ‘It’s never been done. You’d have to consult the book. The Customs and Ways of the Family Drummond of Strone Bridge,’ she said when Ainsley looked at her enquiringly. ‘It’s in the castle library.’
‘Then I will do so, but do you think it’s a good idea?’ Ainsley persisted.
‘It would mean using the Great Hall. I’d need a lot of help and good bit of supplies, and as to the food...’
‘Yes, yes, we can see to that, but what do you think?’
The housekeeper smiled reluctantly. ‘I think if you can persuade Himself, that it’s an excellent idea.’
* * *
‘A Rescinding?’ Innes frowned. Ainsley had accosted him immediately when he had returned in the early afternoon. He had expected her to be sheepish, or reserved, or even defensive. He had not expected her to launch enthusiastically into some wild plan for a party. ‘I’m not even sure that I know what’s involved,’ he said cautiously.
‘It’s a forgiving and forgetting, Mhairi says. She says that all debts and grudges are buried with the old laird to give the new one a clean start. She says that though it’s customary to have it the day after the funeral, there is no reason why we cannot hold it on another day and combine it with a welcoming feast. She says that the chair that the laird uses for the ceremony is in the Great Hall. And there is a book in the library. The Customs and Ways of the Family Drummond of Strone Bridge, it’s called.’ Ainsley was looking at him anxiously. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think Mhairi has quite a lot to say all of a sudden. I wonder how she knows so much about it, for she cannot have seen one herself.’
‘She has worked in the castle since she was ten years old. I suppose, these past few years while your father was alone here, he must have confided in her.’
‘I can’t imagine my father confiding in anyone,’ Innes said drily. ‘To be honest, I can’t imagine him forgiving or forgetting either, Rescinding or no. He was not a man who liked to be crossed, and he bore a long grudge.’
‘Were you always at outs with him, even before—before your brother died?’
‘Yes.’
Ainsley was watching him. Innes could feel her eyes on him, even though he was studiously looking down at a letter from his chief surveyor. He wondered what else Mhairi had said. She was as closed as a fist, and always had been. It surprised him that Ainsley had managed to have any sort of conversation with her. He pushed the letter to one side. ‘The old ways were the only ways, as far as my father was concerned,’ he said, ‘and for my brother, too.’
‘Sometimes the old ways can be a comfort.’
‘You mean the Rescinding?’
Ainsley nodded.
‘A—what did you call it—healing of wounds?’ He smiled. ‘There can be no denying the need for that.’
‘So you agree, it’s a good idea?’
‘It sounds like a lot of work.’
‘I will handle that. With Mhairi. I am not too proud to ask for help.’
‘Is that a dig at me?’
Ainsley hesitated only fractionally. ‘Yes.’
Innes sighed. ‘If I speak to Eoin, will it make you happy?’
‘It would be a start. A forgiving and forgetting, that’s what the Rescinding is. Perhaps you could do some of that before the ceremony.’
Innes threw his hands up in surrender. ‘Enough. You’ve made your point. I will even write to your Miss Blair and invite her to attend. Unless you’ve changed your mind. Or perhaps forgotten that conversation entirely?’
‘I was half-cut, not stotious!’ Ainsley said stiffly.
‘Ach, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. At least I did, but don’t take it personally. You make too good a case, and I don’t want to hear it.’ Innes got up from the desk and took her hand. He took her hand, pressing it between his own. ‘Forgive me.’
Her fingers twined round his. ‘It is I who should be begging your forgiveness. Last night, I propositioned you. In fact, I practically threw myself at you,’ Ainsley said, flushing. ‘You must not feel awkward at turning me down.’
‘I have no intentions of turning you down, if you are not retracting your offer. I thought I’d made it clear, from almost the first moment I met you, that I find you very desirable.’
‘You do?’
‘I do.’
‘I
