I scuffed my shoe on the stone step as I disembarked the house and prepared for my departure. The Colonel stood in wait upon the blanched path, shin-deep in snow.

"The carriage is stuck at the gates. One of the wheels hit that heap of snow next to the pillar," he said. "The coachman is digging it out. I said we would wait here."

"Why wait here? Why not walk? It would save him the struggle of coming along the carriageway."

"Well, it is custom..."

"I don't mind walking," I said, beginning to plough each foot through the snow one after the other.

"It is custom, Miss Reid, to await its arrival," he repeated firmly.

Slightly irked by his curt manner, I returned and stood some feet from him.

"You shall be home in time for Christmas, Miss Reid."

"Yes, although I have an engagement far more pressing than that on Christmas Eve which I am in greater urgency to attend."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I am recently engaged and the father of my fiancé is organising a small gathering to celebrate."

He raised his eyebrows and fiddled irritatingly with a cufflink on his wrist. "I did not know you were engaged."

"Yes," I smiled. "Quite above my station also – his mother was most aggrieved," I laughed.

"Is he an agreeable fellow?"

"He is respectable, with good prospects. He is in the army. Oh, perhaps you would know him. His name is Captain Forrester."

The Colonel shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Or his father? His father is General Forrester."

"Ah. Yes, General Forrester, I know by reputation, at least."

"Between you and me," I said, "I think he's rather toffee-nosed."

The Colonel chuckled heartily, stepping back and forth in sincere amusement.

"I mean, full of superiority," I added. "I'm finding it rather difficult to impress the man."

"But surely he agrees to the match,"

"Only because I would have his son when no other would. He isn't the most dashing individual, or the most exciting by any means," I laughed. "But it's a sensible match. He has good prospects."

"So you say," he replied evenly as the sound of the carriage emerged from within the trees.

I took slight umbrage at the possibility that he was mocking my choice of husband from his tone of voice, but unable to be certain of it, and being aware that these were my final moments in his presence, I smiled and put out my hand diplomatically.

"I doubt we shall see each other again, Colonel Logan, but I thank you sincerely for your hospitality and for acting with kindness in the face of the situation thrust upon you by the unforgiving weather."

He gently took my hand and surprised me with how warm his fingers felt, given the brutal cold. I assumed he felt mine were exceedingly icy, as he kept my hand clasped firmly in his until the carriage had come to a stop. He opened the door and handed my bag to the coachman, before turning to me and smiling wanly.

I sought one last opportunity ask him one final question before stepping up into the carriage. As he offered me his hand, I rested one foot on the wooden step and turned to him.

"Why won't you talk about him? Please tell me, please," I pleaded.

But he kept his expression neutral and stood unyieldingly, his hand remaining outstretched to me as I foolishly awaited an answer for moments on end. Eventually, incensed and frustrated, I scowled at him brazenly and slapped my hand into his, hauling myself into the carriage, before slamming shut the door.

Through the window, I watched him examining my face, seeking to appear apologetic, perhaps. Either that, or in an attempt to rile me further. He turned and assertively marched back into the house, not glancing backwards on a single occasion, not even when Mrs. Quirke dashed out past him through the front entrance and halted the carriage.

"Take these, my dear," she said. "Beef, bread and pickled eggs to keep you going," she smiled, handing me a small basket covered in cloth."

I thanked her and waved to her as the carriage began to move and turn to make its exit. As it passed by the lower floor of the house, through the obscure glass of the library window, I could just make out the image of the Colonel, sitting in his chair next to the sill. Although I could not see him clearly, I glared at him.

Cainnech House disappeared from sight. The sun ran glistening linear patterns across the vista of the loch as I travelled along it, a sight so beautiful that I found myself sighing with despondency and shedding frosty tears as that too receded from my view.

It was over. It was truly over. I could not help but feel that I had failed miserably. What was the worth of having travelled so many miles for not one stray fragment of information? I did not know what I had expected to find. Perhaps I had hoped to find my father, Erskine, still working at the stables, and that finding him would have brought a new excitement and diverting purpose to my life. The stern brick-wall of mystery which had eventually greeted me was most certainly not what I had had in mind. And that man, that infuriating man, with all his caginess and secrecy, all his damned silence. Was it not rather inconsiderate of him? What could possibly be so illicit to cause him to keep it concealed from the very daughter of Mr. Magor? I now had to return to the mediocrity of my everyday life with not a single thing having changed, when I had so hoped it would have done.

I rubbed my hands together to warm them, and found my ring finger. I quickly fumbled for the nape of my neck and removed my necklace, holding it up into the daylight before me. The engagement ring swung with the movement of the carriage and I gazed at it.

"Worry not, Ianthe, worry not," I said to myself, leaving the ring upon the necklace and reattaching it around my neck.

A sudden slowing of the carriage caused me to lurch forward and almost fall from my seat. I could hear the coachman's instructions to the horses to halt and I opened the window.

"Is there something amiss, Sir?" I called to him.

"Horseman, Miss. Have a care, Sir!"

"Forgive me," another voice called, interrupting him. A glossy, russet stallion appeared, with the Colonel saddled upon its back. "Forgive me," he repeated.

"What is it, Colonel?"

He seemed quite flustered and out of breath, and unusually inarticulate as he answered me. "Well, Miss Reid, I... well I was just thinking, in fact...or rather, I have just remembered...I have guests who will be joining me at the house tomorrow – just, just some old friends – military men and the like – and their wives. They will stay here until Boxing Day. And I was wondering whether you would care to extend your stay. They would appreciate the presence of someone else from England I'm sure – especially the ladies..."

"Thank you, Sir, but..."

"They are sensible people – they have no airs, or graces – not for the most part, anyhow," he smiled.

"That's very kind, Sir, but I could not possibly."

"Your parents?"

"Well, no I am sure my parents would be amenable to it, but there is the small matter of my fiancé and his family. I am expected back for a party."

"Ah, yes, of course. But, surely just a small gathering can be rearranged upon receiving sufficient notice. You may write to them today and I will pay for the swiftest delivery possible. With a willing horseman, the news could reach them by Tuesday morn."

"They were not very enthusiastic about my journeying to Scotland in the first place, Sir."

"Were they not indeed? Well then, I shall write to them."

I smirked with disbelief. "Write to them, indeed!" I thought.

"Please stay," he added gently.

"Well another matter, Sir, is the fact that I do not feel that I have been entirely welcome during my stay at Cainnech House. I should think you would be most glad to see me returning to Derbyshire."

"Indeed, indeed, I know how it would have given that impression," he said, softly nodding his head.

"I should not care to stay somewhere where I am unwelcome, Colonel."

"Miss Reid," he said, nearing my window.

The nose of the horse came so close, that I felt its warm breath upon my hand which rested upon the window-frame.

"You are welcome. Most welcome," he said. "I ask that you agree to extend your stay, and remain a guest at Cainnech House. A most treasured guest."