Free Amanda Scott by Highland Spirits

anticipation was slight, but likewise the ending did not cast him into black despair. Sometimes, he met people in the dreams, children or folks he recognized as peasants or others who seemed to be his peers. One thing was consistent: The stronger his sense of pleasurable expectation felt at the beginning, the stronger was the sense of doom that struck at the end.
    Inhaling deeply to clear the last shadows of the dream from his mind, he got up, hooked back the curtain from one window, and rang for his man to bring him hot water. He had much to do if he and Bridget were to be away the next morning.
    Despite his desire for haste, it had taken nearly a fortnight to receive the desired replies to his two letters, but the second had arrived the day before, and he wanted no more delay. Time was short. Even if they encountered no major obstacles, it could well be May first before they reached London.
    Twenty minutes later, washed, shaved, and dressed for the day, he went downstairs to break his fast, the great deerhound following faithfully at his heels.
    While Michael ate his porridge, he read over the list he had made, crossing off items he had dealt with the day before, and noting what remained to be done before they could leave for Edinburgh. When he had finished eating, he sent a message to his bailiff, asking that worthy to present himself later in the morning, then retired to his bookroom to write letters to two friends, which he could post from the Scottish capital. The dog followed, curling up in its favorite spot before the fireplace.
    He was sprinkling silver sand over the second letter when the door from the hall opened and his sister entered the room.
    Looking up in surprise, he said, “You are up early.”
    “I awoke and could not go back to sleep,” she said, “so I dressed and came down to get something to eat Are we really leaving tomorrow, Michael? At last?”
    “We are,” he said. “Our aunt is doubtless awaiting our arrival in Edinburgh with great impatience.”
    “Yes, I suppose she is,” Bridget said. “I’m feeling a trifle impatient myself.”
    Amused by the understatement, Michael resisted pointing out that she had nearly driven everyone at Mingary to distraction with her demands and frequent questions. She had packed and unpacked her boxes so many times that he feared they might not survive the journey. Not a day passed that she did not spend an hour or two making lists of the items she wanted to purchase in Edinburgh, and those that must wait until they reached London. In vain had he tried to persuade her that he could not afford to purchase even half of what she wanted.
    He said, “Has your Nan accustomed herself to the notion of leaving her family for such a lengthy time?”
    “Aye, I had only to promise her a new hair ribbon when we reach London. I shan’t have time to have a new gown made before we leave Edinburgh, shall I?”
    Astonished, he said, “For your maid?”
    “No, silly, for me, of course. I’ve told you ever so many times that I must have new gowns if I am to go to parties and balls in London, and if I have to wait for them to be made up after we arrive, there will scarcely be any time left.”
    “I know you need gowns,” he said, “but the money Cailean will bring won’t stretch to more than two or three, you know.” Mentioning the dog stirred the sick feeling again, and when Cailean thumped his tail, it was all Michael could do to look at him. They would deliver the dog to its new owner on the way to Edinburgh.
    Bridget regained his attention by stamping her foot and saying angrily, “I do not want to hear any more about money, Michael. Not only is it unnecessary, but it’s stupid and foolish, as well, to keep talking about it. You can hardly expect this Lord MacCrichton of yours to show interest in a girl dressed in rags. Moreover, you know perfectly well that the cost of the London house will not fall upon you, since we shall be living with Aunt Marsali’s Cousin