It rained in the night. Morning dawned bleak and grey, with a leaking sky. Over breakfast, at the too-large table in the too-large dining room, there was little talk. Lady Campbell sat at the head of the table, but drank only tea; Fiona and Andrew, opposite one another, ate in silence. When they had finished eating, Andrew excused himself, and went out into the soft rain.
-----
The tack-room was dim, and dusty. Andrew ducked in through the door, and straightened.
"You must, I think, be Iain Campbell?" he asked, extending his hand.
The old groom looked at it for a long moment, and then stood and shook it firmly.
"I am that, Aye. And you will be Commander Smith, I'm thinking?"
"Lieutenant Commander only," said Andrew, "and that of a curtesy, for my boat was not big. Andrew Smith."
"A fair good morning tae ye, Andrew Smith," said the man. "And what can I be doing for you?"
"Most immediately," said Andrew, "I should be grateful for the loan of an awl, a saddler's needle, and some pack thread..."
"That I can do," said the old man, swiftly taking them from a shelf in the dimness. "Ye hae some needful repair?"
"The fire last night," said Andrew. "Whoever started it used the petrol can from my car - and cut the strap to release it."
"It was set of a purpose?"
"Aye," said Andrew. "You would not have seen anyone..."
The old man shook his head. "My bedroom is above here," he said. "Forbye that, I did not wake until I heard the hallooing. I had thought it just a candle that went over?"
"There were no candles lit."
The old man looked at him carefully, for a long moment.
"I see. You were gey lucky, the pair o' ye."
"You are mistaken," said Andrew. "I was alone."
There was another skeptical pause. "Ye were, aye?"
"I was."
"Mhmm," said the man. "If you say so. Show me this strap you're needing fixed."
-----
The door to the dining room was slightly ajar; the voices beyond it, raised.
"You may not go, Fiona." Lady Campbell's voice. "That is final. I am very gravely displeased with you that you should have gone to him last night."
"Mother! I did not go to him!"
"You were not in your room. I heard you go out."
"I was restless. I went to stroll upon the shore in the moonlight."
"I do not believe you. But it is of no matter. You may not go. Smith is a stranger to us, and he is not a gentleman."
"He is an officer, Mother."
"All manner of hoi polloi have been made officers in this past struggle."
"If that is so, Mother - I deny it, but if it is so - it is because your generation have sent mine to the slaughter. There are few enough young men left at any station in society, and fewest of all among those whom you call 'gentlemen'. Am I to die an old maid because those men who have through blessed fortune survived do not meet your apprehension of the word 'gentleman'?
Andrew slipped back out of the front door, and, coming in again, shut it firmly. He strode briskly across to the dining room door, and rapped on it.
Lady Campbell's voice came: "Enter!"
Andrew entered. Lady Campbell remained in her seat at the head of the table; Fiona was on her feet, by the unlit fireplace.
