"Katherine Kurtz - Adept 01 - The Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

"The bishop should enjoy that, sir." "Yes, he should. She's a very fine motorcar." He grinned as he slid
behind the wheel and began pulling on driving gloves.
"Then, after I have eaten his food and drunk his very fine port - and so that he shan't feel totally deprived - I
shall hand him a rather substantial cheque for the cathedral fabric fund. I believe Saint Ninian's could do with
some roof work."
"Can you name me a cathedral that couldn't, sir?" Humphrey replied with an answering smile, as Adam
turned the key in the ignition and the powerful engine roared to life.
Soon he was easing the big car out the stableyard gate and down the tree-lined avenue, bare-headed under
the sun, enjoying the breeze in his hair. The copper beeches were at their very best on this mid-October day,
and as he turned the first curve, the gothic front of Strathmoume vanished from his rearview mirror in a sea of
flame-colored leaves.
He kept his speed down as he threaded past a row of cottages belonging to the estate. Beyond the houses,
the fields were patchworked brown and gold, dotted with circular bales of new-mown hay. Up on the high
ground, one of Adam's three tenant farmers was ploughing up the soil in preparation for sowing a winter crop
of barley. A cloud of white birds circled in the wake of the plough, screeching and diving for grubs and worms
in the newly turned earth.
Nearly a mile from the house, the drive passed through a second set of gates, usually left open, and gave
onto a good but narrow secondary road. Adam turned left rather than going right toward Edinburgh, winding
along a series of "B" roads until at last he approached the main entrance to the Kintoul estate, marked by the
distinctive blue-and-white sign bearing the stylized symbol of a castle.
Gravel hissed under the tires as he nosed the Jag under the arch of the stone-built gate house and on down
the long avenue. The autumn color at Kintoul - the fiery shades that were Lady Laura's favorites - was as
spectacular as that at Strathmoume, and as Adam continued toward the house, he found himself wondering
again why he had been summoned.
Since he had known Lady Laura since boyhood, there were any number of possibilities, of course, both
professional and personal. He had received her brief note just before the weekend, enjoining him to come up
to Kintoul on Monday. The tone had been casual and witty, as was Laura's usual wont, but Adam had been
left with the lingering impression that the invitation was issued to some unstated purpose besides the mere
pleasure of his company. He had phoned Kintoul House the same morning, but Lady Laura firmly declined his
offer to come sooner. This strengthened Adam's suspicion that she had chosen this particular day for a
reason.
Beyond the gatehouse, the dense plantation shortly gave way to rolling pastures, finally affording Adam a
glimpse of the great, sprawling pile that was Kintoul House. Seen from a distance, it presented a fairy-tale
silhouette of towers, turrets, and battlements, the rugged roughness of its ancient stone work overlaid with
silver-white harling. The corbels supporting the parapets, like the timbers framing the windows , were painted
a smoky shade of grey that matched the slates covering the rooftops. The bright blue and white of Scotland's
national standard - the Saint Andrew's flag or, more familiarly, the "blue blanket" - fluttered from a staff atop
one of the highest turrets, but the Kintoul banner was not in evidence, indicating that the Earl of Kintoul, Lady
Laura's oldest son, was not at home.
This did not surprise Adam, for Kintoul, like many historic houses in Scotland, had become as much a
museum and showplace as it was a residence. In the summertime, the earl opened the grounds and twelve of
its twenty-eight rooms to public view. It was a matter of economics. Everything was still well maintained; but
picnic tables, a visitor center, and a children's playground now occupied a stretch of lawn that formerly had
been reserved for croquet and badminton. It saddened Adam, in a way, but it was better than having historic
properties like Kintoul turned into hotels, or broken up for conversion into flats. He hoped he could spare
Strathmourne that fate.
Remembering shuttlecocks and croquet hoops and the summer days of a childhood now long past, Adam
carried on past the visitors' car park, all but deserted now that the tourist season was nearly over. A paved
extension to the public drive took him through a gateway and around the eastern end of the house into a
smaller parking area adjoining the family's private entrance.