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Authors: Alanna Knight
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‘I didn’t believe a word of it, then or now, never will. No mortal girl could live under the sea, or in an undersea cave – the seal king’s alleged “kingdom beneath the waves” – and survive the tides, the fierce seas hereabouts, for one day, much less a year.’
‘Then where had she been?’
Bauble gave a wry smile. ‘That’s what everyone is curious to know, even to this day.’And subjecting him to an intense scrutiny she said, ‘Inga tells me that you are a policeman.’
Faro darted Inga a sharp look of reproach, as Baubie turned to him again, ‘A detective – isn’t that the kind of mystery your kind sort out?’
‘Not really, Mrs Finn.’
She held out a hand, smiled. ‘Baubie please, I am not a “Mrs”.’
Faro felt his face redden. ‘I beg pardon. As I was saying, detectives only sort out mysteries where there is a crime or some illegal activity involved.’
‘Deception does not count then?’
‘Afraid not.’ But even as he said the words, he knew this was one mystery that would intrigue him and never let him go until he had found an acceptable answer that did not lie in the supernatural.
As they shook hands and as Baubie showed no signs of taking her leave, he politely took his. As he returned along the brisk walk to Scarthbreck, his disappointment at not having a romantic dalliance with Inga was somewhat abated by thoughts about Baubie Finn.
A strange encounter indeed, with a woman quite different from what tradition and superstition had led him to expect. A wise woman she might be by repute, although nothing in her bearing or her conversation hadhinted at anything more than a conventional, pleasant, well-preserved woman of mature years who would not have been out of place in the salons of Edinburgh society.
Quite ordinary and in a strange way disappointing, he thought. Not quite what he had expected from meeting a selkie. Indeed, he had felt so much at ease in her company that it was difficult to realise that this was their first meeting and that, until this afternoon, they had been strangers.
Normally so observant, it was not until later that Inga whispered the reason for those mittened hands.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On his return to Scarthbreck, Faro was met by his mother. Hoping he would not have to evade her curiosity regarding where he had spent the afternoon, he found instead an air of excitement about her and a bustle of servants rushing about far more than he would have expected on a Sunday.
Had the owners returned unexpectedly from their holiday abroad? In reply to his question Mary said, ‘No. But you’ll never guess what has happened. The daughter of the house walked in an hour ago. What a to-do, the house in turmoil. Nothing prepared, no beds aired.’
She shook her head in bewilderment at such a flurry, such an indulgence in unwarrantedactivity, having to organise things properly instead of her usual peaceful Sunday afternoon rest before tea with the maids.
‘Miss Celia was full of apologies at arriving ahead of her parents and insisted that she would take tea with the staff, if that would be alright, as she was well acquainted with their Sunday routine and did not want to spoil it. She hinted that they had so few things to look forward to.’
Pausing, Mary shook her head. ‘There are rumours among the maids that she’s one of those ladies who have strong feelings about women’s rights, modern things her parents would never approve of or understand.’
A little bemused by the outrage such behaviour suggested in a young lady, she went on, ‘She’s like that, Miss Celia, quite at home with the servants. Her nanny could have told you some stories, and her last governess went off in a huff shouting that no one spoke to her like that. All the servants heard her as well.’
Mary strongly disapproved. The upper class should know their place too, or she believed the whole world would crumble away and fall to pieces. The word ‘equality’ made her tremble if she
‘Then where had she been?’
Bauble gave a wry smile. ‘That’s what everyone is curious to know, even to this day.’And subjecting him to an intense scrutiny she said, ‘Inga tells me that you are a policeman.’
Faro darted Inga a sharp look of reproach, as Baubie turned to him again, ‘A detective – isn’t that the kind of mystery your kind sort out?’
‘Not really, Mrs Finn.’
She held out a hand, smiled. ‘Baubie please, I am not a “Mrs”.’
Faro felt his face redden. ‘I beg pardon. As I was saying, detectives only sort out mysteries where there is a crime or some illegal activity involved.’
‘Deception does not count then?’
‘Afraid not.’ But even as he said the words, he knew this was one mystery that would intrigue him and never let him go until he had found an acceptable answer that did not lie in the supernatural.
As they shook hands and as Baubie showed no signs of taking her leave, he politely took his. As he returned along the brisk walk to Scarthbreck, his disappointment at not having a romantic dalliance with Inga was somewhat abated by thoughts about Baubie Finn.
A strange encounter indeed, with a woman quite different from what tradition and superstition had led him to expect. A wise woman she might be by repute, although nothing in her bearing or her conversation hadhinted at anything more than a conventional, pleasant, well-preserved woman of mature years who would not have been out of place in the salons of Edinburgh society.
Quite ordinary and in a strange way disappointing, he thought. Not quite what he had expected from meeting a selkie. Indeed, he had felt so much at ease in her company that it was difficult to realise that this was their first meeting and that, until this afternoon, they had been strangers.
Normally so observant, it was not until later that Inga whispered the reason for those mittened hands.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On his return to Scarthbreck, Faro was met by his mother. Hoping he would not have to evade her curiosity regarding where he had spent the afternoon, he found instead an air of excitement about her and a bustle of servants rushing about far more than he would have expected on a Sunday.
Had the owners returned unexpectedly from their holiday abroad? In reply to his question Mary said, ‘No. But you’ll never guess what has happened. The daughter of the house walked in an hour ago. What a to-do, the house in turmoil. Nothing prepared, no beds aired.’
She shook her head in bewilderment at such a flurry, such an indulgence in unwarrantedactivity, having to organise things properly instead of her usual peaceful Sunday afternoon rest before tea with the maids.
‘Miss Celia was full of apologies at arriving ahead of her parents and insisted that she would take tea with the staff, if that would be alright, as she was well acquainted with their Sunday routine and did not want to spoil it. She hinted that they had so few things to look forward to.’
Pausing, Mary shook her head. ‘There are rumours among the maids that she’s one of those ladies who have strong feelings about women’s rights, modern things her parents would never approve of or understand.’
A little bemused by the outrage such behaviour suggested in a young lady, she went on, ‘She’s like that, Miss Celia, quite at home with the servants. Her nanny could have told you some stories, and her last governess went off in a huff shouting that no one spoke to her like that. All the servants heard her as well.’
Mary strongly disapproved. The upper class should know their place too, or she believed the whole world would crumble away and fall to pieces. The word ‘equality’ made her tremble if she
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