but significantly larger. St. Clair took their coats and hung them in a large cabinet with carved doors illustrating some form of a hunt, with dogs and running deer.
“Only this part of the castle is occupied. Everything is modern and comfortable here. I’ve kept the fireplaces and tile stoves, but on the ground floor I had the stone floor taken up and I installed heating under the floor. Then I replaced the old stone slabs.”
The pride in his voice couldn’t be missed. Irene realized that it was justified. It must have been a time-consuming job. But something told her that Andrew St. Clair had not actually done the work himself, even if he described it that way. As he walked in front of them, he chatted about the castle’s history and made them feel like long-awaited guests. Meeting people was easy for him, and he was friendly. That was the big difference between him and his cousin. And his aunt, too, for that matter.
“The wing across from this one is the oldest part of the castle. It was built at the end of the fifteenth century, but was rebuilt after a fire two hundred years later. In the late sixteen hundreds, the main building was constructed as well. This portion was built at the end of the seventeen hundreds, at the same time as the gatehouse at the beginning of the avenue. My grandfather started its renovation, and my father and I have finished it. But we’ve been very careful about maintaining the castle’s style.”
He led them through large rooms with gold and red silk striped wallpaper and large tapestries covering the walls. Light filtered in through beautiful stained glass in the high windows, which showed images from the family’s history and family coats of arms. Andrew St. Clair enthusiastically described the picture in every window they passed. Gloomy gold-framed portraits stared down at them. Shields and old swords were hung between the portraits. Here and there, suits of armor stood ghost-like along the walls. There were also large heavy cabinets in dark wood decorated with carving and gilded fittings. All the furniture they passed seemed very old. Irene felt as if she were in a museum as their footsteps echoed desolately on the stone floors. As if in response to her thoughts, their host continued, “I’ve had the finest and oldest furniture moved to the State Room. Wooden pieces don’t do well in unheated spaces, and I don’t heat the uninhabited portions of the castle.”
They had reached their destination. He opened one half of a set of double doors and motioned for them to enter an enormous room. Almost the entire far wall had been glassed in.
“Come and look at the view,” he bade them.
They crossed the endless floor, covered with Oriental rugs, to the glass wall, which extended all the way to the edge of the cliff. The view over the meadows and fields up toward the Pentland Hills was striking.
“It is very beautiful,” Irene said, sincerely.
With a satisfied expression, he asked them to sit on the soft leather sofas which were turned to face the view. Irene realized that all the sofas and armchairs were placed so the occupant could enjoy the view.
“Food will be served in a few minutes in the Hunting Room. I think it’s more pleasant to eat there. The dining room is too large for three people.”
Irene didn’t have any trouble imagining what the dining room must be like. A gloomy room with armor along the walls and even more ancestral portraits staring down from the walls. And, of course, the table must be colossally long, with fifty chairs around it. And there Andrew and his future wife were supposed to sit and yell to each other from their respective ends of the table and. . . .
She suddenly became aware that both men were looking at her. One of them must have asked her a question. She smiled uncertainly. “Excuse me. I didn’t quite understand . . . ,” she said.
“I asked if you had been in Scotland before,” Andrew said, looking at her curiously.
“No. I’ve never been to Scotland before,” Irene replied.
She was rescued by a door being opened at the far end of the room. Andrew stood and said, “I see lunch is served. Please.”
They waded away over the sea of floor and stepped into what was called the Hunting Room.
Irene stopped abruptly on the threshold. Unprepared, Glen bumped right into her back.