Death of an Adept

Julia cocked her head to one side while she studied the overall effect. "Well, it goes remarkably well with the mantilla. You'd almost think the two had been made to go together."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Peregrine agreed, his attention on his work. "I just hope that Ximena doesn't decide to change the hair style you two discussed, between now and the wedding day. It's tricky enough having to do this on the sly, without any major last-minute changes."

The portrait was intended as a surprise wedding gift for the bridal couple. Confident that the painting would be joyfully received, Julia was taking advantage of her new-found friendship with Ximena to gather every possible detail regarding the future Lady Sinclair's bridal ensemble. Her efforts were being ably seconded by Philippa, who had provided a Polaroid snapshot of the Sinclair tiara. Teresa Lockhart had likewise participated in the conspiracy by supplying photographs of the antique lace mantilla which was to be her daughter's bridal veil.

Peregrine added a minute flourish of detail to the veil's diaphanous hem, then set his fine sable brush aside as he contemplated his work with a critical eye, stretching backwards to relieve a crick in his back.

"I think that's going to have to be it for tonight. I can't really carry on without the particulars of the gown. When does Ximena have her next fitting?"

"In a couple of days," Julia said. "I've already volunteered to go along and keep her company. I don't think there are going to be any major changes, but if there are, I'll try to find out in plenty of time for you to incorporate them into the final painting."

Grinning, Peregrine lowered a protective drop-sheet over the half-finished painting, then switched off the bright light overhead, leaving on the work-lights under the hanging cupboards.

"If only the government were half as well-served by its intelligence-gathering services!" he said to his wife. "Have you considered giving up music for a career in international espionage?''

"Certainly not," Julia replied. "I have my hands full enough, just keeping abreast of what's going on in my own household. You haven't exactly been overflowing with information about that house call you made today with Noel McLeod."

She had gone to stir the hot chocolate, but was turned so she could see him. In a slight delaying action, Peregrine set about the cleaning of his brushes. Earlier that afternoon, McLeod had spirited him away for their planned visit to Nether Leckie, Raeburn's former residence. While McLeod had offered a partial truth for Julia's benefit - that he was hoping Peregrine's talents might be put to use in locating a missing person - he had precipitated their departure before she could inquire too closely about the individual they were seeking - for which Peregrine was grateful. The truth about Raeburn was not something he felt ready to share.

Fortunately - or perhaps unfortunately - there was no need to dissemble here and now, regarding at least part of the truth.

"There really isn't much to tell," he said, chucking the first of the brushes into a jar, bristles up. "For all the good we accomplished, Noel and I might as well have saved ourselves the trip."

Which was true. The house had been shut up tight; and any resonances of Raeburn's presence had dissipated long ago - or else had been selectively erased. What remained was a sullen aura of malevolence, but not enough to provide any leads. Hoping to change the subject, Peregrine asked, "Did you and Ximena manage to get the music sorted out for the reception?"

"I think so - my bit of the programme, anyway," Julia said.

"I'm glad Philippa was there to help. Whenever she's around, things seem to have a way of getting done."

At that moment, a plump black and white ball of fur came shooting around the door frame in hot pursuit of one of Peregrine's art gum erasers. The chase ended abruptly when the eraser rolled out of paw-reach under the refrigerator.

"Hero, you bandit!" Peregrine said, laughing. "No wonder I can never find an art gum when I need one!"

"If you'd keep them in your art satchel where they belong, he wouldn't be able to get at them," Julia pointed out with a chuckle, coming to scoop up kitten and eraser.

Hero promptly transferred his attack to a random lock of his mistress's hair. Disregarding the assault, Julia went back to the Aga to give the saucepan another stir with her free hand.

"The hot chocolate's ready,'' she announced over her shoulder. "Want me to pour you a cup?"

"Not just yet, thanks. The smell of turpentine tends to interfere with the taste. If you leave it standing in the pan, I'll get it myself once I'm done cleaning my brushes."

"Mind if I take mine up to bed with me, then? Ximena's given me some music for a saraband she's picked out, and I want to make some notations before I start practicing it."

"No, go ahead. I'll be up to join you as soon as I've put things to rights down here."