The Last Debutante Read Free Page A

liberty of going ashore while you recuperated. It’s rather a rustic village, but not without its charm. Oh, and I arranged transportation to your grandmother’s house. It is very near here, as luck would have it. You will have aseat on a private tour of the Highlands that will deposit you in Glenferness. That is where you will find your grandmother.” She had turned to the small mirror bolted to the wall, looking one way, then the other as she checked her hair.
    “What of a seat for you?”
    “I’ve arranged one for me, as well. But on a different coach, for I am to Edinburgh.”
    “What?” Daria exclaimed. “We meant to see Edinburgh together, on the way home from seeing Mamie. That was our plan, Charity.”
    “We will see it together, of course we shall! You will come to me in Edinburgh when you’ve seen your grandmother. You don’t need me for that.”
    It had been too much for Daria to absorb, since even thinking gave her a headache. She’d forced herself up. “How will you get there? What coach will take you there?”
    Charity’s smile had deepened a little more. “Captain Mackenzie has kindly arranged it.”
    Daria knew in that moment that even Charity would desert her. She truly was the last debutante of Hadley Green.
    “Don’t look so distressed!” Charity had said. “You are off to a grand adventure! Isn’t that what you hoped for? You will accompany a delightful set of sisters. Mrs. Gant and Mrs. Bretton are both widows and they’ve planned their holiday for quite some time. They are eager to see the Highlands and just as eager to offer you a seat in their coach. They seem quite lively.”
    Daria had found the ladies to be lively, all right, but not in the way Charity had meant.
    A brilliantly blue spring sky greeted Daria that morning when she’d boarded the coach. She was cross with Charity for having abandoned her, and she was sure that ten miles would seem like ten days in the company of Mrs. Gant and Mrs. Bretton.
    The two sisters, both plump and gray and fond of matching hats, had hired Mr. Mungo Brodie to drive them. After demanding he speak his native language, they realized there was no way to understand what he was saying, so they expressed their desire that he be “as native as he might.”
    “Their language is too harsh on our ears,” Mrs. Bretton had confided to Daria, who agreed. The language was too harsh, and the roads too pitted.
    Their slow progress along the narrow road into the hills allowed the sisters the opportunity to pepper Daria and Mr. Brodie with several questions. That was when they were not demanding that Mr. Brodie come to a halt so they might pile out of the coach, dragging Daria along with them. They shared a pair of opera glasses to have a look about, and liberally pressed them into Daria’s use so that she might view the birch and oak that grew so thickly beside the road, or try to see the crossbill birds seated high in the trees, or catch a glimpse of the ospreys flying overhead. They would then climb back into the coach, and off they would go, inching along for another few yards.
    As the day crept by, Daria began to fret. She didn’t want to spend an entire evening with these women, but they had yet to see any signs of civilization, and they hadn’t met a soul on that road. Daria was peering out the window with the hope of seeing a village ahead when the coach suddenlycame to a halt, sagging to one side as Mr. Brodie came down. A moment later, he opened the door. “Glenferness.”
    The sisters looked at Daria.
    But they were in the middle of nowhere, with nothing around them but forest.
    Daria’s heart climbed right into her throat. “Pardon?” she croaked.
    “Glenferness.” He walked away, and Daria could hear him unlashing her trunk.
    Now Daria’s pulse began to pound. “Oh no—there must be some mistake.” She hastily climbed over the sisters’ legs and leapt out of the coach. “Mr. Brodie!”
    He appeared from the back of the coach