Death of an Adept

"You make it sound so straightforward," Angela said. "Has it occurred to you that, given the chance to speak, Soulis might try to take advantage of the moment by calling one or more of his erstwhile familiars to his aid?"

"It did occur to me," Raeburn said drily. "That's why the ritual I've devised will have some very specific controls built into it from the outset. Since the turning of the year is an auspicious time for beginning new endeavors, I propose that we summon Soulis to his old haunt of Hermitage Castle in two days' time. I fancy it will be a fitting way to usher out the dying year."

A hundred miles away, just north of Edinburgh, Philippa Sinclair was inspecting an invitation to quite another kind of affair to mark the turning of the year.

"As you requested, milady, I telephoned Sir Matthew and Lady Fraser as soon as you informed me you were coming," Humphrey said, as he poured her tea in the library, "so they sent along an invitation to their annual Hogmanay party. Of course I made no mention of Sir Adam's news."

"No, that's to be a delicious surprise," Philippa said, helping herself to sugar and milk. "I'm not certain whether Janet will be delighted to find that Adam is about to lose his bachelor status or annoyed that she didn't make the match. She does like Ximena, though - everyone does. I can't tell you how happy I am that he's finally found the right woman, Humphrey. If things take their natural course, you'll soon be serving your third generation of Sinclairs."

"It will be my privilege and pleasure, milady," Humphrey said with an uncharacteristic smile. "Will there be anything else, or shall I see to your luggage? I had Mrs. Gilchrist prepare your room."

"No, go ahead, Humphrey. I want to make a few telephone calls before I head upstairs for a nap. I don't handle jet lag as well as I used to." "Very good, milady."

Sighing, Philippa settled herself comfortably into one of the wing chairs by the fireside, clasping the warmth of her teacup between both hands as she gave herself over to the nostalgic comfort of coming home. By habit, her gaze reverted to the framed photograph on the mantelpiece, showing her late husband in his regimental uniform, and she rendered his likeness a fond salute with her teacup.

"I hope he'll be happy, Iain," she said with a wistful smile. "He deserves to be happy. It isn't an easy life he's chosen for himself."

By the time she had finished her tea, Philippa was feeling sufficiently restored to repair to Adam's desk and make her phone calls. The first was to her clinic back in New Hampshire, where she left a message notifying the staff of her safe arrival. The second was to Lady Julian Brodie.

"Pippa, dear, I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice!" Julian exclaimed by way of greeting. "How did it go, on Christmas Eve? I've only told Noel and Peregrine and the Houstons, but we're all so delighted!"

"Well, it won't be official until after the public wedding," Philippa reminded her with a laugh. "For now, they're simply engaged. I'll tell you about it when I see you. In the meantime, before I sally forth into my new role as mother of the groom, I thought I'd better apply to you for an update on local current events."

The request carried several levels of meaning, and Philippa was somewhat surprised at the slight pause on the other end of the line before Julian replied.

"Yes, indeed. Always happy to oblige. Perhaps you'd like to come and join me for tea tomorrow - say, between three and four? I'll invite a few other friends as well."

Philippa was quick to catch what was not said in Julian's seemingly innocent comment - and the meaning implicit in her inclusion of "a few other friends."

"I can come sooner, if you like," she said.

"No, no, tomorrow will be fine," Julian replied. "I'm eager to see you, but there's no urgency until you've recovered from your travels. We're neither of us getting any younger."

With this reassurance - and increasingly aware of her jet lag - Philippa rang off with the promise to join Julian on the morrow. She spent the remainder of the day napping and unpacking, and retired early after a light supper.

The next day dawned windy and changeable, with patches of brilliant sunshine interspersed with fragmentary bands of snow cloud. Philippa breakfasted in the front parlor, then puttered the morning away. The house seemed very empty with Adam absent. Shortly after two, out of deference to the uncertainty of the weather, she had Humphrey bring the Range Rover around instead of the Bentley. Soon they were cruising southward toward Edinburgh, Philippa contentedly ensconced in the back seat with a tartan rug tucked over the lap of her emerald-green suit.