Miss Seeton Rocks the Cradle (A Miss Seeton Mystery Book 13) by Hamilton Crane & Heron Carvic

Author:Hamilton Crane & Heron Carvic [Crane, Hamilton]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781911440000
Publisher: Farrago
Published: 2016-10-20T04:00:00+00:00

chapter

~16~

MISS SEETON WAS relieved that her appearance and equipment had met with the approval of her hostess. She had no wish to cause anxiety to anyone, and she could now set off on her little excursion in complete confidence.

Apart from the map, and a delicious packed lunch which Mrs. McScurrie had so kindly prepared for her, Miss Seeton’s capacious handbag contained two clean pocket handkerchiefs, a comb, a small mirror, some loose change and her emergency five-pound note (inflation having made this a more realistic sum than the two separate notes she’d been accustomed to keep by her), her pocket flashlight, and a selection of pencils varying in hardness, together with a pencil sharpener and—she sighed for her limitations—an eraser. And, most important of all, her sketchbook. Over her arm she carried her umbrella, and on her head she wore her cockscomb hat.

Miss Seeton smiled at the memory of his lordship’s gentle teasing last night, after dinner, when he had left the room at the coffee stage and returned with a feather which, he assured her, was an eagle’s, and the mark of a Highland chief. She ought, he said, to be properly dressed, just in case she met the Queen again: everyone was equal in the open air, and Her Majesty would understand the democratic significance of the new decoration on Miss Seeton’s hat.

Miss Seeton had demurred, pointing out that she was, as surely his lordship remembered, neither Scottish nor of any importance in the world whatsoever—certainly not a chief. Ranald said that, in gratitude for her sterling service to his infant daughter, he was making her an honorary chieftain of the MacSporrans, as (he being the head of that clan) was his prerogative. She was to regard it as the nearest to a medal he could award, and Liusaidh added that she thought it looked rather well inside the band, and they must remember to take Miss Seeton’s photograph in an appropriate setting before she went back home to Plummergen.

Miss Seeton allowed herself to be persuaded; and, having later studied the reflection in her bedroom looking glass, conceded that the addition might almost be said to suit her—or rather (modesty added hastily) the hat, anyway. One was tempted to say—a temptation to be resisted—to say, well, distinguished. Which, of course, she was not, for how could a retired art teacher expect to distinguish herself in any way? She led the quietest and most private of lives . . . but, should there be even the slightest chance that, during her little excursion, she might encounter Her Majesty, then it was plainly her duty to show every respect. Which dressing the part, she supposed, would do. If only—she sighed once more—she had remembered to ask about the curtsey . . .

Miss Seeton, in sensible tweeds and comfortable shoes, walked on under the August sun, drinking in the view and the birdsong, from time to time raising the binoculars she wore about her neck to study some passing songster as it settled on a clump of heather or the low branch of a tree.

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