By Mary Daheim
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Gibbs arrived with their luggage. Joe proffered a tip but was refused. “Butler rings gong at eight,” Gibbs said, tipping his fisherman’s cap. ” Judith hurriedly unpacked, hanging their clothes in a capacious wardrobe. Joe showered first. When Judith’s turn came, she was elated to discover that although the bathroom fixtures looked old, the plumbing was modern. She had no problem pulling the toilet’s chain as long as it flushed; she didn’t mind the outdated faucets if they poured hot and cold water.
Joe ignored the comment. He had led the others to a heavy oak door on their right. The iron knocker was a boar’s head, which he banged three times. Judith felt chilled as the wind picked up and the damp air crept into her bones. Like Renie, she was hungry, but she was also very tired. Finally a rotund white-haired woman with pink cheeks opened the door. “Welcome,” she said with a tight little smile. “I’m Mrs. ” The housekeeper didn’t offer her hand. She merely stepped aside with what might have been a little bow and allowed the visitors to enter.
The master is a Fordyce, a sept o’ the Forbes. There’s a Castle Fordyce to the southeast, but distant kin, ye ken. ” “That’s understandable,” Judith said. ” Gibbs’s face turned stony. ” He cleared his throat. ” Judith, Joe, and Bill said yes. Renie looked apologetic. ” Gibbs nodded and reached into a glass-fronted cabinet next to the table. ” Judith accepted a flared crystal highball glass. ” Gibbs’s blue eyes twinkled. “Yanks. ” After the drinks were poured, Gibbs announced that he’d retire to assume his other duties.