But she was so tired that she did not undress. She simply slid underneath the old quilt and fell asleep.
She slept badly. The house creaked all night long and was fiercely cold. After only a few hours sleep, Moira had awoken stiff and freezing.
Creeping downstairs, Moira heard the clock in the dining room chime seven.
“Ah, good morning, miss. Breakfast is on the table.”
Mrs. McRae disappeared down the dark corridor. Ewen was already at the table, drinking a cup of tea.
Moira stared in horror as two thin slithers of cold toast greeted her. She held one up and grimaced.
“Aye, I know. Do you have anything left of cook’s provisions?”
“I left the picnic box in the carriage. They will have loaded it onto the ship.”
Ewen let out a long sigh. He would have been glad of oatcakes and cheese
