'You already have,' said Giles, rising to his feet and giving her a warm smile. He brushed himself down, said 'Thank you,' and left the shop without another word.
When Harry stood up, he came face to face with a slim-waisted mannequin wearing only a corset. He turned bright red, ran out of the shop and joined Giles on the pavement.
'I don't expect the man with the limp will be booking into the Royal for the night,' said Giles, 'so we'd better get moving.'
'Agreed,' said Harry as Giles flagged down another cab. 'Waverley station,' he said before climbing into the back.
'Where did you learn how to do all that?' asked Harry in admiration, as they headed back in the direction of the station.
'You know, Harry, you should read a little less Joseph Conrad and a little more John Buchan if you want to know how to travel in Scotland while being pursued by a fiendish foe.'
The journey to Mulgelrie was considerably slower and far less exciting than the one to Edinburgh had been, and there was certainly no sign of any man with a limp. When the engine finally dragged its four carriages and two passengers into the little station, the sun had already disappeared behind the highest mountain. The station master was standing by the exit waiting to check their tickets when they got off the last train that day.
'Any hope of getting a taxi?' Giles asked as they handed over their warrants.
'No, sir,' replied the station master. 'Jock goes home for tea around six o'clock, and he'll nae be back for another hour.'
Giles thought twice about explaining the logic of Jock's actions to the station master, before he asked, 'Then perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell us how we can get to Mulgelrie Castle.'
'You'll have to walk,' said the station master helpfully.
'And which direction might it be?' asked Giles, trying not to sound exasperated.
'It's about three miles up yonder,' the man said, pointing up the hill. 'You cannae miss it.'
'Up yonder' turned out to be the only accurate piece of information the station master had offered, because after the two of them had been walking for over an hour, it was pitch black and there was still no sign of any castle.
Giles was beginning to wonder if they were going to have to spend their first night in the Highlands sleeping in a field with only a flock of sheep to keep them company, when Harry shouted, 'There it is!'
Giles stared through the misty gloom and although he still couldn't quite make out the outline of a castle, his spirits were lifted by flickering lights coming from several windows. They trudged on until they reached a massive pair of wrought-iron gates which had not been locked. As they made their way up the long driveway Giles could hear barking, but he couldn't see any dogs. After about another mile they came to a bridge spanning a moat, and on the far side, a heavy oak door that didn't look as if it welcomed strangers.
'Leave the talking to me,' said Giles as they staggered across the bridge and came to a halt outside the door.
Giles banged three times with the side of his fist, and within moments the door was pulled open to reveal a giant of a man dressed in a kilt with a dark lovat jacket, white shirt and white bow tie.
The head steward looked down on the weary, bedraggled objects that stood in front of him. 'Good evening, Mr Giles,' he said, although Giles had never set eyes on the man before. 'His lordship has been expecting you for some time, and wondered if you would care to join him for dinner?'
40
LORD HARVEY handed the telegram to Giles and chuckled. 'Sent by our mutual friend, Captain Tarrant. He only turned out to be wrong about what time you'd arrive.'
'We had to walk all the way from the station,' protested Giles between mouthfuls.
'Yes, I did consider sending the car to meet you off the last train,' said Lord Harvey, 'but there's nothing like a bracing Highland walk to work up a good appetite.'
Harry smiled. He'd hardly spoken since they'd come down for dinner, and as Emma had been placed at the far end of the table he had to satisfy himself with the occasional wistful gaze, wondering if they'd ever be left alone together.
The first course was a thick Highland broth, which Harry finished a little too quickly, but when Giles was served a second helping, he also allowed his bowl to be refilled. Harry would have asked for a third helping if everyone else hadn't continued making polite conversation while they waited for him and Giles to finish so that the main course could be served.
'There's no need for either of you to be anxious about anyone wondering where you are,' said Lord Harvey, 'because I've already sent telegrams to Sir Walter and to Mrs Clifton, to assure them you are both safe and well. I didn't bother to get in touch with your father, Giles,' he added without further comment. Giles glanced across the table to see his mother purse her lips.
Moments later the dining room doors swung open and several liveried servants entered and whisked away the soup bowls. Three more servants followed, carrying silver salvers on which rested what looked to Harry like six small chickens.
'I do hope you like grouse, Mr Clifton,' said Lord Harvey, the first person ever to call him Mr, as a bird was placed in front of him. 'I shot these myself.'
Harry couldn't think of an appropriate response. He watched as Giles picked up his knife and fork and began to slice tiny pieces off the bird, bringing back memories of their first meal together at St Bede's. By the time the plates were cleared, Harry had only managed about three morsels and wondered how old he would have to be before he could say, 'No, thank you, I'd prefer another bowl of soup.'
Things improved a little when a large plate of different fruits, some of which Harry had never seen before, was placed in the centre of the table. He would have liked to ask his host their names and the countries they originated from, but memories of his first banana came to mind, when he had definitely slipped. He satisfied himself with following Giles's lead, watching carefully to see which had to be peeled, which had to be cut and which you could simply take a bite out of.
When he'd finished, a servant appeared and placed a bowl of water by the side of his plate. He was just about to pick it up and drink it, when he saw Lady Harvey place her fingers in hers and moments later a servant passed her a linen napkin so she could dry her hands. Harry dipped his fingers in the water and, like magic, a napkin immediately appeared.
After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room. Harry wanted to join them so he could at last catch up with Emma and tell her everything that had happened since she'd poisoned herself. But no sooner had she left the room than Lord Harvey sat back down, a sign for the under-butler to offer his lordship a cigar while another servant poured him a large glass of Cognac.
Once he'd taken a sip, he nodded and glasses were placed in front of Giles and Harry. The butler closed the humidor, before filling their glasses with brandy.
'Well,' said Lord Harvey after two or three luxuriant puffs. 'Am I to understand that you are both hoping to go up to Oxford?'
'Harry's a safe bet,' said Giles. 'But I'll need to score a couple of centuries during the summer, and preferably one at Lord's if the examiners are going to overlook my more obvious deficiencies.'
'Giles is being modest, sir,' said Harry. 'He has just as good a chance of being offered a place as I do. After all, he's not only the captain of cricket, he's also school captain.'