Free Land of Heart's Desire by Catherine Airlie Page B

bidding to come,” she added, “for it used to be your second home!”
    Christine flushed.
    “Those days have gone,” she said wistfully. “I don’t suppose we can ever recall the past.”
    She stood in the centre of the great hall after Iseabal had moved away in the direction of the kitchens, thinking how little sign of change there was, although she had confidently expected Ardtornish to be altered out of all recognition by its new owner. But Finlay Sutherland had left it exactly as he had found it.
    Hamish Nicholson had sold his old home, lock, stock and barrel, thinking, she had no doubt, to preserve it as it always had been, even although it was now in the hands of a stranger. The massive oak furniture, the heraldic shields and great stags’ heads above the doorways were all reminders of her own youth and the lavish parties and gay, unconventional ceilidhs which the Nicholsons had encouraged in days gone by. She could not find any sign of change and was surprised and glad in the same breath.
    “Well?” Finlay Sutherland demanded, coming up behind her, “what’s the verdict on Ardtornish?”
    “You haven’t altered anything—”
    “What did you really expect?” he asked with a brief half-smile. “A baseball rampant above the staircase and a stuffed moose in the great hall?”
    She was forced to laugh at that.
    “I’ve been very rude,” she admitted.
    He took her on a tour of inspection through the other rooms, to prove, she supposed, that he was completely innocent of vandalism, and she noticed that a great many necessary repairs had already been made on the structure of the house itself. The wonderful yellow pine panelling in the library had been cleaned and renewed in places where woodworm had set in, but she noticed that the books were still piled haphazardly on tables and chairs around the room.
    “This is going to be a colossal task,” he remarked. “They all ought to be catalogued.” He left her side to lift an ancient volume with a touch that was almost a caress. “I’d like it done by someone who really knows about this sort of work, so I’ve written to Edinburgh for a secretary.” He turned to look at her, his green eyes questioning. “Do you think Jane Nicholson might take on the job?”
    Christine gazed back at him, aghast.
    “Jane?” she gasped. “You’d never think of asking her to do a thing like that? How could she be expected to come back to her old home to work for—”
    “An intruder?” His red brows shot up, but he seemed only to be amused now. “I can see that I have a lot to live down round about these parts, but I have already asked Jane.”
    “You’ve asked her?” Her tone was completely incredulous. “She won’t come!”
    “What makes you think not?”
    “It’s simple. Nobody could expect Jane to come back to Ardtornish as a—as a sort of servant.”
    “That wouldn’t be the way of it at all,” he said briefly. “She would be doing a useful job of work—something for Ardtornish, if you like. I intend to add to the library as I go along. Strange as it may seem,” he added wryly, “books have always been an obsession with me. I got into touch with Jane Nicholson through her family solicitor, by the way, because he told me she had started to catalogue the library about three years ago and then had to leave it. He mentioned that she was looking for a job at the present moment and now I am waiting for her reply.”
    “She won’t come,” Christine repeated, thinking how well she knew Jane.
    “We shall see,” he said, pleasantly but—arrogantly.
    The meal was difficult after that, although he talked about the estate and about Canada for her amusement. Christine could not push the thought of Jane out of her mind or the humiliation of the offer this man had made to her old friend. She was sure that Hamish could not know of it—or Rory, either.
    When they went in search of the boat, however, she forgot all about Jane. The gleaming, chromium-plated