Christmas at a Highland Castle

Chapter 36

On New Year’s Eve, Jess took her time to walk the length of the picture gallery, doing her best to ignore the eyes of the long-since-departed earls of Kirkshield, which seemed to track her every move. If Freya’s boys had really wanted ghosts, it was possible that these portraits could provide a few, given the right incantations. Although this evening the old guard, as she’d taken to calling them, looked benevolent – or perhaps that was the effect of the lighting.

The strings of fairy lights and decorations on the huge Nordmann fir twinkled and rustled against the vibrant green of the tree. The rest of the space was lit by the uplighter sconces on the walls and more strings of fairy lights, the overhead chandeliers glinting in reflected light, rather than their own.

The effect was spectacular and hugely atmospheric. Olivia stood with her. ‘I think it works, don’t you?’

‘Definitely,’ Jess said. Something had shifted on Christmas Day, when Olivia had suggested they hold a ceilidh for Hogmanay. The same day Jess had almost fled Kirkshield, had almost run from the strength of her own emotions.

When Dee had left her with Sebastian, suggesting she should tell him exactly how she was feeling, Jess almost ran again. Without trying too hard, she could still conjure up her physical state at that moment. Slick palms, dry mouth, racing heart: how she imagined a panic attack might feel.

‘What if it doesn’t work?’ As the words had left her mouth, Jess had watched Sebastian’s face closely, looking for a chink in the armour of his balanced, calm expression. He’d guided her to the sofa, taking her hand as he’d encouraged her to sit.

‘Us, you mean?’ he’d said.

She’d nodded, unable to form words. She was probably being unnecessarily dramatic, but this mattered . Mattered more than anything ever had before.

Sebastian had taken his time before he replied. ‘You probably don’t remember, but back when I told you about the financial mess the estate’s in, you said – and I quote “We could do B and B in the castle, perhaps?” Do you remember?’

‘Not the exact words, but I remember that conversation, yes.’

‘Well, I couldn’t forget your words. And now I know why.’ He paused, taking a deep breath. ‘You need to understand something about me, Jess. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to prove to myself that I’m nothing like my father was. When I was a teenager, he filled my head with all sorts of nonsense about how men should behave, men like us – how our privilege should extend into every area of life, including … well, including relationships. Although where he was concerned, “relationship” is perhaps a bit of a generous term. But when you grow up watching the carnage that kind of behaviour leaves behind …’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, as I say, I’ve spent my adult life trying to prove – to myself more than to anyone else – that I’m not like that. My father viewed everything from his ivory tower – he saw everything in terms of what benefit it brought him, and him alone. And when you mentioned doing B and B in the castle – I knew then.’

‘Knew what?’ Jess appreciated his honesty, the way he was laying things from his past out in the open for her, but she wasn’t sure where he was going with it.

‘That word. We . I tried to tell myself it was just a throwaway word, something you said without any thought, but it’s what I want. So badly. I want you and me to be “we”.’ He paused, gauging her expression before he ploughed on. ‘I want you, Jess. Without you, I’m not sure anything makes any sense anymore. I want “us” very badly. Can I promise you forever? I’m not sure anyone can promise that, not unconditionally. What I can say, though, with a level of certainty I’ve not felt before, is that I’m ready to give forever my best shot, if you are, too.’

Sebastian fell quiet, moistening his lips as he watched her for her reaction. Jess had wanted honesty, reassurance – she’d wanted guarantees. And as she stared at him, she realised how much he’d just laid on the line for her.

‘I’d like that very much,’ she said. Her words seemed weak against the strength of his, but he didn’t seem to notice as he reached for her, catching her up in a tight embrace. And in that moment, Jess felt something she’d craved for as long as she could remember, something she’d come to understand she’d also been running from for just as long. Jess, she realised, now understood what it meant to come home.

Now Hogmanay had arrived, and Jess realised she hadn’t ever been very excited about New Years’ Eve – she’d always seen it as little more than a shift in the calendar, the flicking of one number to the next. But there was something in the way the preparations were coming together for this evening which did have a magical feel to it. Perhaps it was because of the date. Or maybe the events of recent weeks and the way they had brought with them a total shift in her perception of her life and where it might be headed had shifted her perspective on everything.

Jess realised time was running out for her to go and get herself ready when Freddie and Karl beetled towards her, already dressed in identical kilts and jackets.

‘I’m Prince Charlie,’ Karl said, his blue bunny bouncing in one fist.

‘No, Mummy said that’s what your jacket’s called, idiot,’ Freddie said.

‘You both look very smart,’ Jess said, as Freya flowed into the room, looking absolutely stunning in a long green dress, slashed through with a panel of the same tartan as the boys’ kilts. She took one look at Jess and tapped her watch.

‘You should go and get yourself ready, Jess. Oh, and by the way, I left a small gift in your room for you.’

The gift was tartan in the shape of a sash, as well as a gorgeous pin – why Jess hadn’t worked out before this evening that there must be a Kirkshield tartan was beginning to baffle her. Alongside it was a beautiful note, in which Freya told Jess she’d never seen her brother looking so sure of himself as he had done over the last week, not even when she’d been to see him play with the Philharmonic, and there was only one reason for it.

Thankfully, Freya had thought to include instructions as to how she should wear the sash. Jess frowned at herself as she made some final adjustments to it, worried it wasn’t sitting in the right place, or that she hadn’t pinned it correctly. The tartan was very pretty, a heathery-mossy mixture of greens and purples, with a strong dark grey line running through it every now and again, and it sat happily against the velvety midnight black of the dress Vivi had given her for Christmas.

Jess could hear the chatter of conversation as she headed for the picture gallery, a final bout of nerves settling as she straightened Sebastian’s bracelet on her wrist – a late Christmas present, but one she would treasure forever.

She saw Vivi almost immediately, seated with Digby tight at her heel, and veered across to speak to her.

‘Ah, Jess. There you are,’ Vivi said, gesturing to the man sat across from her. ‘Do you know Desmond Drummond?’

With her grey hair caught up in an elegant bun, her expression was as sharp and focused as always, but there was something different about Vivi this evening: a lightness to her demeanour. Desmond shook Jess’s hand, his attention sliding back almost immediately to her aunt, and Jess left them to their conversation. The elegant older lady and the statesmanlike silver fox fully kilted out – if that was the right expression – in a tartan boasting much brighter red tones than the one Jess was wearing. Jess glanced back, grinning as she saw Vivi laugh at something Desmond said.

Freya and Christian were pretending to admire the tree, while keeping more than a casual eye on where the boys were. Freddie and Karl zigzagged through the assembled adults, pocketing snacks and being politely rebuffed each time they offered to help the band set up their instruments.

Jess turned in a circle to take in the scene, wondering how closely it resembled the parties of yesteryear Craig Macwarren had referred to. Before she’d completed a turn, though, she paused. Where was Sebastian?

As if on cue, he entered the picture gallery from the far end, and Jess caught her breath as she watched him approach. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that Sebastian was dressed in a kilt. Somehow, though, it made her smile. He looked self-conscious, pulling at his cuffs until he spotted her, when his expression focused.

‘You look fantastic,’ he said, taking her hand.

‘You look …’

He misinterpreted her inability to complete the sentence, shaking his head. ‘I know. Ridiculous. Everyone else manages to pull it off …’

‘I was going to say you look incredibly sexy, Mr Barclay-Brown. I was going to say if it wasn’t for all these people, I’d like to …’

But she didn’t get a chance to complete her sentence. Voices clamoured from all sides for him, and Jess stepped to one side to allow him to greet his guests. He threaded his fingers through hers more tightly, taking her with him as he welcomed everyone. Craig Macwarren clapped him on the back, expressing just how much he and Isla had been looking forward to the evening. People flowed past, Sebastian a rock in the river of greetings, with Jess held firmly by his side. Not a single person had brought any negativity with them to this evening and Aggie Fernell embraced them both as she would long-lost friends.

Jess glanced around. The place had been built for occasions like this, and a ripple of excitement ran through her at the thought of this being the first of many warm, happy evenings in this grand old building.

Her smile slipped a little as Catriona approached, and she went to pull away and give Sebastian space, but he held on to her hand. Catriona wasn’t on her own this evening. There was a man with her, an imposing rock of a man with an easy smile and a fierce twinkle in his eye.

‘This is Greg,’ Catriona said. ‘He finally managed to get here.’

Greg extended a hand for Sebastian to shake, then Jess. ‘Lovely to be here, Your Lordship. Kirkshield is beautiful and it makes a pleasant change from the day job.’ He glanced at Catriona, the twinkle intensifying. ‘For a few days, anyway. Then I’ll be dragging this beautiful lady back to Aberdeen.’

‘Glad you could make it,’ Sebastian said. ‘I hope you’ll both have a great evening.’

‘Sorry to butt in.’ Olivia appeared at his shoulder, her expression anything but apologetic. ‘Slight situation with the band. The violinist has just had a phone call – his wife’s gone into labour, and he needs to leave. Apparently the last time he didn’t get to the hospital in time, and she’s told him that if it happens again she’s going to eat this one, so he’s out of here.’

‘Eat her own baby?’ Sebastian said.

‘Possibly a slight exaggeration, but basically, he’ll be in the shit if he doesn’t make it. Anyway … The long and short of it is that we’re down by a fiddle player, and … Hang on. Wait a minute. What am I saying?’ Olivia looked Sebastian up and down as if she’d never seen him before. ‘Hold the front page – is this Sebastian Barclay-Brown I see before me? Tutti violinist extraordinaire?’

Sebastian was already shaking his head. ‘No. I can’t. I don’t know any of the pieces, it’ll be a disaster.’

‘The band says the music won’t really work without a fiddle, so if you’re happy to disappoint all these people we can always send them home, I suppose …’ Olivia said, ignoring his concerns.

‘And it would be amazing to hear you play,’ Jess added.

‘But I wanted to dance. With you.’ He caught Jess up in a hug, pulling her close.

‘We’ve got all the time in the world for that, haven’t we?’ Jess said. ‘Please play for the band.’

Sebastian let out a theatrical sigh, then smiled. ‘I’ll get my violin.’

‘Great,’ Olivia said. ‘I’ll go and tell the band, and we can finally get some dancing started.’

‘Now we’re alone, would you like to complete your sentence?’ Sebastian said, as she left.

‘Alone?’ Jess glanced around; she’d never seen this many people in the picture gallery.

‘Might as well be nobody else here, for all the attention anyone else is going to get from me tonight,’ he said, the rise in his eyebrows making her grin. ‘So, tell me. The sight of me in a kilt means you’d like to do … what?’

‘Better not say if you’ve got to play with the band. I don’t want to put you off your stroke,’ she said, the words barely out of her mouth before she felt her cheeks begin to burn and he guffawed at her words.

‘With regret, then, let’s park that for now,’ he said, leaning in for a kiss, before spinning away to fetch his violin from the music room.

Dee was late down to the ceilidh on purpose. This was her first official social function since the death of Henry – and she had no idea how to navigate the situation. Although she and Robbie had spent plenty of time exploring the strength of their emotions for one another since she’d gone to find him on Christmas Day, he’d put no pressure on her to tell anyone else. The ceilidh would be the first time her feelings for Robbie would become blatantly clear for everyone else to see. Dee couldn’t work out whether that thought thrilled or frightened her.

When she had finally left her room and arrived in the picture gallery, Dee paused to take in the scene. The room had been made for this – it was amazing to think that during the entire time she’d lived here with Henry it had never heard music, had never been alive with laughter and dancing, or been adorned with fairy lights like it was this evening. Dee allowed herself a glance at Henry’s portrait, wondering if his soul was looking down with the same kind of mean-spiritedness as the glazed face in the painting.

The dancing was already in full swing, the sight of the twirling figures enough to lighten even the hardest of hearts. Dee could see Freya, Christian, Olivia and Candida making up one square, while Jess and Isla made another with Freddie and Karl. Dee held her breath as she saw Robbie – resplendent in a three-piece tweed suit and looking every inch the man she wished she’d always been with. She watched him twirling his mother around as though she was a kite, the hitch in her breath turning into a laugh as she heard Dorathy squeal when both her feet left the ground, and then into a sharp sob as her gaze moved on again and she realised who was playing violin with the band.

Oh Sebastian … At last …

Her son thought nobody knew about the promise he’d made himself, about his determination to set aside his violin once he became earl. But Dee knew. She wondered if it had been Jess who had persuaded him to pick it up again. She hoped so.

After the dance ended and Dorathy had finished scolding Robbie, he headed for the drinks table, a glass in his hand by the time Dee had negotiated her way across the dance floor.

‘Robbie – could I have the next dance?’ she said, ploughing straight in before he had a chance to speak.

His brow furrowed and he glanced around before he said, ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, is it? I don’t want you to feel awkward, and people will talk, Dee.’

‘That’s exactly what I want them to do.’

He looked even more confused, but Dee remained firm in her request, holding out her hand for him to take and leading him out onto the dance floor. As they spun and skipped, reeled and promenaded, all the time doing their best to follow the caller’s instructions, Robbie began to relax, and Dee’s smile grew broader as their movements became increasingly fluid, more and more in tune with one another.

They stayed on the dance floor for dance after dance and Dee decided she hadn’t had this much fun since – well, for long enough to render it irrelevant. It was difficult not to notice people staring at them, then smiling – when they’d made a foursome with Freya and Christian, Dee had thought her heart might burst with the glittering smile her daughter had given them both. Which was why what she was going to say to Robbie was going to be so difficult.

Eventually, they broke away from the dance floor and got a drink.

‘I need to ask you something,’ she said.

‘Aye. Anything,’ Robbie said, rubbing at beads of sweat which had formed at his brow line. ‘Might have to ditch my jacket in a minute,’ he added.

‘I’ve never known it so warm in here,’ Dee said, and she meant it in more ways than one. Then she frowned. ‘Robbie, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how I can take my life forwards.’

He nodded, taking a pull from his bottle of beer.

‘And I’m more convinced than ever that I want it to include you. But I need to be sure.’

Robbie lowered the bottle slowly, his concentration fixed on her. ‘What do you mean, you need to be sure?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve asked far too much of you already, but I’m going to ask for even more.’

He frowned, but it wasn’t out of annoyance, it was confusion, and Dee deserved it. She’d already asked him to be patient, to go, to stay, to second-guess situations he’d had no control over and alter his plans for her. And now she was going to ask him for even more.

‘I made a promise to myself, that I’ll learn to be independent. To be able to be on my own. This is difficult to express but, Robbie, I want you to be sure I’m with you because it’s the right thing for us both. The last thing I want is for you to wake up one day and not know if I’m with you for you, or because I’m too frightened to be alone.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘Sooner or later, you’re going to work out that I haven’t been alone for any of my adult life. I met Henry when I was twenty, and while I was lonely with him, I was never alone. And now you’re here, and it’s fantastic and I wish it had always been you and me, but I need to know I can be alone. I need to know I can be alone so that I know I want to be with you for all the right reasons. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?’

Robbie turned the bottle around in his hands, his brow furrowed in thought. Dee waited, fingers crossed on the stem of her glass. The pause felt interminable, and she almost reneged on herself, almost told him to forget what she’d just said, except she knew she couldn’t do that. Not if she wanted to be sure.

‘How long do you need?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. I want to visit a few places, travel a bit. Find my feet again.’

He smiled, then allowed himself a rueful shake of his head. ‘I’ve been waiting for you for years, Dee, so I suppose another few months won’t make much difference in the big scheme of things. Will you send me postcards?’

By the time they’d welcomed in the New Year, Jess was exhausted. She didn’t realise she’d have so much fun Scottish dancing, that it would take so much energy, or that she would get to dance with so many different people. If she had to pick the most fun partner, she would choose Karl, whom she’d ended up carrying, swirling him and his blue bunny around to the commands of the caller. The most surprising partner was the elderly man who’d made such an impression on Vivi. Far from needing to be gentle with him, he’d been wirier and stronger than he’d looked, all but lifting her off her feet in the turns – he’d left her breathless and laughing, an admission with which Sebastian later took issue.

‘That’s my job,’ he said, his violin carefully packed away, the bow and strings swapped for his hold around her body as the rest of the band took the pace down and gave the remaining revellers some time for slow dances.

Pressing herself against his Highland gear had Jess giggling. She’d already told him his sporran was in the way, to which he’d replied she hadn’t felt anything yet, before he folded himself against her even more closely and she sighed into him.

They danced on, Jess recognising the tune of a ballad. She picked up the words, singing softly into Sebastian’s shoulder.

‘Did you see my mother dancing with Robbie?’ Sebastian said, quietly.

‘She still is,’ Jess said, pointing. ‘They’re over there.’

Jess lost Sebastian’s attention for a moment as he watched his mother, his forehead creasing, but only for a moment, before being replaced by a soft smile. ‘I hope he makes her happy,’ he said. ‘It’s about time she was.’

His focus shifted back to Jess, and she smiled at him as they danced on. Then he startled, as though remembering something important.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you hours ago – I was a bit late because I was delayed by a rather interesting call. It seems the castle has snagged an outdoor film shoot in the New Year. They want the castle exterior, and possibly the driveway.’

‘That’s great news,’ she said. ‘Will there be any famous actors taking part?’

‘Funny you should say that. Olivia’s already proving herself to be more useful than she looks. Apparently, Guy Ritchie was up here shooting last winter, and they got chatting. So she contacted his people and the wheels have already begun to turn. He’s directing this film, but I’ve got no idea who’s in it.’

‘It’ll be a surprise, then.’ Jess grinned. ‘This is just the start, you know? For the castle, and for us. Brick by brick, remember.’

He nodded. ‘Brick by brick.’

She ran her fingers through the short cropped dark hair behind his ears, then down his jaw-line, and gazed at him, drinking him in. ‘You’re doing the right thing, saving this place, you know? One day your children will thank you.’

‘My children?’ His expression became quizzical.

‘One generation passes it on to the next, isn’t that how it works? At least you and Olivia will create something worth passing on, won’t you?’

‘I hope so.’ He frowned. ‘Can I ask you to do something for me, then?’

‘Of course you can.’

‘Will you make sure they do thank me, sometime in the future?’ he said, his lips grazing her ear.

‘What do you mean?’

His words were quiet, the sentiment behind them taking her breath away.

‘Well, seeing as I’m falling in love with you, I was kind of hoping one day you might decide you want to be their mother,’ he said.