Dagger Magic

It was a unique wedding gift, that only Peregrine himself could have created for his bride. In composition and technique, the painting was a faithful reflection of a nineteenth-century work by the Scottish artist Alexander Johnstone. The original portrayed a romanticized Bonnie Prince Charlie nrreecffig Ffora MacDonald for the first time, with the kilted Prince seated beside a rustic table in a rough stone cottage. Before him, outlined against the light from an open doorway, stood the legendary heroine who had helped him elude his English pursuers "over the sea to Skye."

Peregrine had re-created every detail of the original with consummate skill and deliberation. In his version, however, the features of the principals had been altered to mirror a cast of familiar faces. The Flora MacDonald of Johnstone's original painting now wore Julia's fair visage and a fanciful conjecture of her wedding gown, which Peregrine had never seen before today. The latter was a close likeness, suggesting that Peregrine might have had a conference with his bride's dressmaker.

Peregrine himself had assumed the identity of the Bonnie Prince, kilted in his customary Fraser of Lovat tartan, hazel eyes brimful of adoration as he gazed up at his fair rescuer. In a puckish display of humor, the glint of his wire-rimmed spectacles was clearly visible. The handsome laird who was presenting Flora by the hand displayed the darkly handsome features of Adam and wore his Sinclair tartan. Other figures in the painting were clearly recognizable as Matthew and Janet Fraser and Julia's Uncle Alfred, all of whom had been present when the newlyweds first met. Casting her gaze over the detailing, Julia gave a little crow of laughter and clapped her hands in delight.

"Oh, Peregrine, it's wonderful. I hate to think how much time you must have spent toiling over this when you might have been doing other things. Whatever gave you the idea?''

Smiling, Peregrine captured one of his wife's hands and raised it to his lips with a smile.

"I thought the spirit of our first meeting should be preserved, and the Johnstone painting seemed somehow an appropriate model," he declared. "You have made me a prince among men, dearest Julia, and just as Bonnie Prince Charlie placed his life in Flora's hands, so do I place my happiness in yours."

"Hear, hear!" someone shouted approvingly as applause broke out again; and Janet Fraser murmured, "Who said that chivalry was dead?"

The luncheon menu began with a salmon mousse in shells of fresh melon and worked through a tomato bisque, breast of duck in a marinade of orange and ginger, and an accompaniment of new potatoes and garden vegetables, along with appropriate wines. Once the remnants of the main course had been cleared away, Humphrey wheeled in the wedding cake on a silver serving trolley: a glistening triple-tiered confection in white sugar icing. Decorating the top tier, in place of the traditional figures of a bride and groom, was a miniature scene from a fairy tale: a knight on a white horse doing battle with a dragon while his lady looked on from the turreted window of her castle.

"How lovely!" whispered Janet Fraser to her husband. "To be married in the spirit of chivalry…"

Once the cake had been cut, using a Victorian cavalry sword carried by the groom's great-grandfather in the Zulu Wars, there followed the traditional round of speeches while the cake was distributed and coffee was served. After the addresses had been concluded, Adam rose from his seat at the top table and gave his crystal champagne flute a chiming tap with a silver coffee spoon. As the buzz of conversation settled, he lifted his glass.

"My lords and ladies, honored guests, friends and family of the happy couple," he proclaimed. "Before we adjourn to the garden, please join with me in pledging Julia and Peregrine our best wishes for a happy, healthy, and prosperous future."

The toast signalled the formal end to the meal. Thereafter, the guests filtered out to the gardens while Lord Kintoul's piper played again and the marquee was cleared for the dancing that would follow. Adam, his formal hosting duties now done, circulated freely among the guests, enjoying the sunshine of the terrace and the chance to chat with friends.

Eventually his perambulations brought him round to the rose arbor, where he found Noel McLeod sitting alone on a stone bench in the shade, polishing his gold-rimmed aviator spectacles on a handkerchief. Something in the inspector's manner suggested that he might have been waiting for Adam.

"Hello, Noel," Adam said, wondering what the reason might be. "Don't tell me you've tired of the festivities already, when there's still some country dancing to be done."

Scowling beneath a wiry grey moustache, McLeod settled his spectacles back on his face and ran a hand through thick grey hair.