Читать книгу The Magic Ring of Brodgar - - Страница 2

The trip proved to be quite challenging. After flying to Inverness, Megan boarded a train for an additional four-hour journey. She was pleasantly surprised by the stunning landscapes for which Scotland is renowned. The view from the window showcased mountains, crystal-clear lakes, scenic beaches, and ancient castles, each with its own secrets. Admiring the scenery, she became lost in thoughts about the future and didn't notice how quickly time flew by. There were very few people at the small station, but Megan immediately noticed a man in his sixties rushing to meet her – a silver-haired gentleman with a kind expression.

“Miss McKenzie?” he inquired.

“Mr. Douglas?” Megan responded.

“Welcome to Scotland! I hope your journey wasn't too exhausting, despite the distance?”

He greeted her with a warm, paternal smile and shook Megan's hand. She appeared quite youthful to him. The girl was of modest height, with a slender waist and lean legs. Her large, expressive brown eyes and thick chestnut locks of hair, both typical traits of the McKenzie clan, were certainly distinguishing. Her delicate build and facial features gave Megan a porcelain, doll-like appearance. She was dressed in a formal dark pantsuit that elegantly complemented her slim figure. Simple shoes with modest heels completed the young woman's business-like, sophisticated look – just as Malcolm had described his granddaughter.

“All is well, thank you,” she took in the small railway station with a quick glance. Judging her surroundings, Megan quickly surmised that this was not a town but a village.

“I'm delighted by your arrival and our acquaintance. I've heard much about you from your grandfather,” the silver-haired man said as he carefully placed Megan's suitcases in the trunk of the car. “He was very proud of you. I've spent a large part of my life by his side, always as his loyal friend and the family's solicitor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Douglas. I’m glad to meet you too,” she said politely.

“Allow me to escort you to the castle, Miss McKenzie.”

“Please, just call me Megan.”

“As you wish, Megan.”

“Have we far to go?”

“About thirty minutes. Your home is near Melvich Bay, roughly 15 miles from Thurso. Tomorrow morning at 10, your relatives will be waiting for you in the meeting hall.”

“Is anyone currently living in my grandfather's house?”

“Yes, your cousin Warren and his wife are there, along with the estate manager. The couple had to leave for urgent matters right after the funeral, so they'll be returning late. It's unlikely you'll meet them today, but there should be an opportunity tomorrow morning.”

“I see. Thank you.”

* * *

“My goodness! It’s gorgeous! I could never have imagined seeing such a delightful place,” Megan exclaimed in awe as she stepped out of Mr. Douglas's car.

Before her, stood an extraordinarily beautiful castle. Its last renovation was completed in 1768. Over the centuries, the interior decor changed and improved with the latest technologies, while the exterior maintained its historical appearance, as depicted in pictures and postcards dedicated to medieval Scotland.

The castle was perched on a hill, offering breathtaking views of cliffs and mountains stretching into the North Sea. The magnificent green landscape extended for miles around. The estate was meticulously maintained, Megan noted immediately. Near the massive entrance door stood the manager, observing Megan intently.

“Good evening, Gregor!” she greeted, eyeing the tall, lean middle-aged man in a formal grey suit. He was exactly as her grandfather had described in his stories. Gregor's face seemed impassive and even stern, perhaps due to his thinness and lack of smile.

“Good evening, Miss. Welcome.”

Malcolm had greatly valued the estate manager for his impeccable manners, respectfulness, discretion, and cool, calculated intellect. He was one of those individuals who spoke little but listened much. When the distillery faced a downturn, it was Gregor who secured lucrative contracts with partners. Now, he was in charge of communication with the main whiskey buyers, working in tandem with Megan's cousin Warren, whom Malcolm had recently involved in the business affairs.

Gregor took two suitcases from Mr. Douglas and led the way inside.

As Megan entered the mansion through the grand doors, she paused, taking in the interior with interest, which blended modernity with history. The original stone walls were adorned with numerous hunting trophies.

“Deer hunting has long been considered a noble pursuit for true gentlemen, such as your grandfather,” Mr. Douglas explained, noticing Megan's surprised examination of the hall's unique decor.

“Are there bears around here?” Megan inquired warily, noticing a bear skin by the fireplace.

The manager smiled at her question, “No, that skin was a gift to your grandfather from an American hunter, an old friend of his.”

“That’s good…” replied Megan thoughtfully. She had always been afraid of wild animals.

“One need not fear the beasts,” Gregor unexpectedly interjected, his gaze inscrutable as he looked at her. “Often, it is people who pose the greater threat…”

Megan scrutinized his face with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. His last remark seemed odd, even menacing. Deciding she might be reading too much into his words, she chose to remain silent and turned her attention back to the hall's interior.

The chairs and sofa were upholstered in wool fabric made at the McKenzie mill, featuring the family's traditional blue-green tartan. Legend has it that this pattern and color scheme were adopted by the clan chief and his kin in the 13th century. Consequently, it had become a tradition for all family members to own several items in the blue-green tartan, for holidays, significant events, and everyday wear, suitable for any weather.

Megan's initial impressions of her ancestral castle were undeniably profound. A bittersweet melancholy washed over her as she realized that, despite the years which have passed by, she had never once made the effort to visit and see everything with her own eyes, to feel the deep connection to her lineage.

All these years, Arline had painted these places as a godforsaken backwater, untouched by civilization. Megan had imagined nothing more than crumbling walls of an ancient castle, frozen ruins on the verge of turning to dust, a vague memory of a glorious past. Now, she understood that her previous notions bore no resemblance to reality.

A grand staircase led upwards from the hall. She approached it, touching the cold stone balustrades. The center of it was carpeted with dense wool, also in the McKenzie tartan style, as was the furniture. Twenty steps led to the second floor, where the bedrooms were located.

“I wasn't sure which room you would prefer,” Gregor said, “so we've prepared two options for you – your grandfather's chamber and your mother's former bedroom.”

“I'll stay in my mother's room,” Megan replied, thinking that she likely wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully in her grandfather's chamber. Despite being 25, she still harbored a fear of something unexplainable associated with the dark. Megan occasionally chuckled at herself for this; after all, she was an adult, a capable woman who could quickly find a way out of any difficult situation while maintaining complete composure. Yet, she was still afraid of the dark, ghosts, and horror movies, just like a little girl!

The castle is probably filled with the ghosts of ancestors, she thought, and immediately tried to dispel this notion to avoid scaring herself.

On the second floor, two corridors branched off from the staircase, one to the right and one to the left, with bedrooms lining both.

“The second door on the left,” directed Gregor.

Arline's chamber, was both cozy and spacious. To the right from the entrance stood a king-sized bed made of mahogany, covered with a white down comforter and topped with a woolen blanket in the recognizable family colors.

Everything in one style, Megan thought, and she found it very appealing.

In front of the bed was a wide, large fireplace, above which hung a set of bagpipes – the national musical instrument of Scotland – mounted on the wall. The room, situated in a corner of the mansion, was one of the brightest in the castle thanks to two tall windows. Between them, there was a small round table and two chairs. The stone floor was covered with a, thick, plush carpet that was soft underfoot.

Warm rugs were often used in the interiors of ancient castles; they added a sense of comfort and retained heat. The climate of northern Scotland was harsh, and the close proximity to the North Sea brought cold winds and dampness. However, thanks to modern technology, the McKenzie castle was well-equipped to combat these elements.

“Thank you, Gregor, everything is perfect. I'll see you tomorrow at ten.”

“The meeting hall is to the right of the main entrance on the ground floor. Have a good evening, Miss.”

“Megan, if you have no further questions for me, I'll take my leave as well.”

“No questions, Mr. Douglas, thank you for meeting me. I'm very grateful.”