Down the Rabbit Hole

As they’d made their way back to the lodge, people in the village came out of their houses and stood in silence, watching the sad procession. All had known about the curse, and all had kept the laird’s secret, out of love and devotion to him.

When they’d reached the courtyard of the lodge, every member of the laird’s staff stood in a straight column, heads bowed, faces somber.

An old man hobbled forward and helped Jamie remove the laird’s body from the horse. At once old Maura appeared with a length of ivory linen in which to wrap the body.

When that was done, Jamie indicated Beth. “The lady needs tending.”

“No.” She slid from the saddle and knelt on the stone paving to place a hand on the linen shroud. “My needs are not important now. First we must see to the laird, and give him a proper burial.”

“Aye.” Maura, grateful for the chance to do something, took charge. “We’ll summon the old friar and send word to the village that the laird’s funeral will be before dusk.”

And so it had been done. Right now the villagers and the members of the laird’s household retreated to the great hall, eating a meal in Colin’s honor, and talking quietly among themselves about the good man they had lost, and what would happen to Stag’s Head Lodge going forward. There was word that the old laird’s brother had a son, a cousin near the age of Colin, whose quiet dignity and calm demeanor would continue the course set by his predecessors.

And now, Beth thought, her own future stretched out before her, empty and meaningless. She had found the great love of her life. And, just as quickly, had lost him.

Was it possible for her, after all this, to return to the life she’d known before Colin?

The thought of returning to the city, of struggling daily to please her stern, demanding aunt, of pretending that the work she did, the business she conducted, meant anything at all to her, was unimaginable.

How could she possibly go on?

Even though I must die, I will never leave you.

“But you have, Colin. Why did you make that impossible promise?” Her whispered words caused a fresh round of tears. “You’ve left me, and nothing will ever be the same.”

She wished with all her heart that the world would just go away and leave her to this all-encompassing grief.

Drained beyond belief, she closed her eyes.


*

“Here, now. What’s this? What’s happened?”

When Beth heard that much-loved voice, her eyes opened and she found herself staring into the familiar eyes of her beloved.

“Colin?”

“Aye. I’m Colin Gordon. And you’d be . . . ?”

“Beth. Beth Campbell.” She struggled to sit up. “But you’re . . .”

She blinked, and realized that this man, with Colin’s face, was wearing corduroy slacks and a fisherman’s knit sweater with patches at the elbows. His hair, though dark as midnight, was cut short. His voice was cultured, with the merest hint of a Scottish burr to it.

And then she realized that she was wearing her charcoal silk business suit and designer shoes, and lying along the side of the road.

“I was . . .” She swallowed. What was going on here? Had she actually lived in that other time and place? Or had she been having a hallucination, brought about by the bump to her head?

“I was on my way to Stag’s Head Lodge when my car stalled, and when I started walking I fell and hit my head . . .”

“Indeed you did. And I can see why, wearing shoes with those stiletto heels.” He put up his hands. “Wait. You musn’t try to stand. Let me carry you.”

He lifted her easily in his arms and started toward a waiting Rolls-Royce, where a handsome youth was seated behind the wheel. Beside him, setting up a chorus of barking, were several beautifully-groomed hounds.

“Hush now.” At that single command, the dogs sat back, tongues lolling, as he settled her in the backseat before sitting beside her.

“Let’s get our guest to the lodge, Jamie.”

“Aye, m’lord.”