“Lady Georgiana, why don’t you ask your cook if she could pack a picnic for us,” the countess suggested.

“And should we take our bathing things?” Babe asked.

“The loch is freezing and there is the monster,” I said, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Does this monster actually appear in broad daylight?” Fritzi, the countess’s wayward son, asked. “I mean, is it an established phenomenon? Have they been sacrificing virgins to it for generations?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said.

“Lucky it wasn’t in Baltimore,” Wallis Simpson muttered. “They’d have run out of virgins too quickly.”

Again the group tittered.

“In which case I’ll bring my gun along,” Earl said. “I’ve always wanted to bag a monster. It will look great stuffed on the wall beside that marlin.”

I left them making noisy preparations and bumped into Fig. She was pleased to hear about the picnic and the prospect of a day free from Americans. “And sandwiches cost so much less than a proper lunch,” she said. “Maybe Mrs. McPherson can make pasties. She’s such a dab hand with pastry, isn’t she?”

“And I notice the hot water boiler has already been turned down,” I added in a low voice. “It was commented on. Babe had to finish showering in cold water.”

She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “And I’m just about to go and see Fergus about playing the pipes in the morning. He’ll love it that we’ve reintroduced that old custom. And I must remember to suggest the haggis for dinner tonight. I wonder if Cook will have time to make it. What goes into it exactly?”

“It’s a sheep’s stomach with the rest of the intestines minced up with oatmeal and sewn into it.”

“Is it? How disgusting. I know it’s always served on Burns Night and New Year’s Eve but I only eat the required mouthful myself. I don’t suppose Cook has the odd sheep’s stomach on hand.”

“And it has to boil for hours,” I pointed out.

Fig made a face again. “Well, let’s hope she can procure one by tomorrow. The mere description ought to drive them away.” She went to walk away then looked back at me. “This has to work, doesn’t it, Georgiana?”

“One hopes so,” I said.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Castle Rannoch and a lochside jetty
August 18
Calm and pleasant weather to begin with . . .