latched completely, and she heard Sally’s voice. Not in conversation, but in prayer.
“Sally?”
The door suddenly opened and she was greeted by the sight of Sally standing there, her eyes red and tears on her cheeks.
Behind her the bedroom window was wide-open.
“Oh, Miss Jennifer, I knew it would happen, but it takes you by surprise anyway, doesn’t it?”
“Sean? He’s passed?”
Sally nodded, brushing at her wet cheeks. “Aye, and Gordon not here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Sally said. “He left about two hours ago and I haven’t seen him since.”
He hadn’t come to the Hall. Where had he gone?
She moved into Sean’s room and sat on the chair beside the bed.
The traditions of death were more complicated than those for birth, but both would be observed at Adaire Hall this week. The piper would play the Adaire Lament to let everyone know that someone at the Hall had died.
Sally had already washed Sean’s face, his thinning blond hair neatly combed. His ruddy complexion spoke of a life outdoors. The lines that had etched themselves into his face in the past two years were due to pain more than age.
He looked at peace now, his lips almost in a half smile. His hands had been folded, one on top of the other on the sheet. She reached over and patted Sean’s hand, surprised at how cold he felt.
She knew why the windows were open now. It was customary to open the windows at death to allow the soul to fly free.
Blinking back tears, she stood and leaned over the bed to kiss Sean’s forehead.
Birth and death had come to Adaire Hall.
“Thank you for everything, Sally. I’ll send Moira to help you with the rest of the preparations.”
“It was a pleasure, Miss Jennifer. He was a gruff man from time to time, but that was the pain talking. He had a heart in him as well.”
Several people, Gordon included, would dispute her analysis of Sean. One thing he had been, however, was unfailingly loyal to her mother and to Harrison.
Sally followed her into the front room. Soon the chairs would all be sprinkled with water. If there was any milk in the cottage it would be poured onto the ground, and a piece of iron would be thrust through any foodstuffs to prevent death from entering them. The mantel clock would be stopped and any pictures covered with a blanket or sheet.
Jennifer would send word to the minister and also inform her neighbors of Sean’s death. He’d been an important man at Adaire Hall and they would attend the funeral.
First, however, she had to find Gordon.
Gordon climbed up the crypt steps slowly. When he emerged into the sunlight of the chapel he blinked at the brightness. Did anyone ever use the chapel for a place of solace anymore? Did they look up at the altar and wonder if God lingered there?
He wished there was somewhere he could go, like a fox to his den, someplace safe where he could recover from the news he’d been given. Some haven where he could fit armor around his emotions and steady himself.
He had never felt this weak.
The cottage wasn’t an option right now. Nor did he want to go to the Hall. He didn’t think he could bear seeing Jennifer with his emotions as shredded as they were.
There were a dozen places he could go around Adaire Hall. He could take the path up into the hills like he and Jennifer had often done in order to escape Harrison’s bullying and the watchful eyes of the adults. Or he could go past the stables, into the strath, and sit beside the river, watching the waterfall. Instead, he went to the one place that had always meant the most to him, the one spot he’d always gone when he was troubled.
The dock was new, the wood boards replacing those that had been rotting when he was a boy. He’d learned which ones to avoid, to step over, to get to the end, where the rowboat was moored.
He could always take the boat out to the center of the lake and sit there watching as the sun took its path across the sky. He’d be alone at least. No one could bother him. Or he could simply sit at the end of the dock soaking up the sun and feeling the heat on his back, a welcome change from being in the crypt.
This was a favorite place for some of the staff to fish on their half days off