You had planned to take a flyer over to see Castle Sinclair this afternoon, but at the last minute Janet Fuchida sent you word that she would have to beg off of the trip. Something has come up and she and her Jaguars have to take care of a pressing matter. The weather has turned a little sour, too; a chill wind is coming in off Sinclair Bay now, and the clouds have lowered. According to Major Pelham, there will be no storm, but the steady, infiltrating mist has filled the afternoon air.
You find your way to the Library and select a good book, relishing the quiet and the chance to explore your host's collection a little more. Soon, however, you hear the door open and see Roth, the timeless, constant gentleman's gentleman, standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry to disturb your reading, sir, but the Laird would be pleased if you could give him a few minutes in his study," he says in his trim, precise tone. Always glad for the opportunity to speak with your host, you put down the book and walk toward Roth.
Roth gives the now discarded volume a quick glance. "Ah, Dickens. Yes, that first edition is a fine addition to the collection. But I confess I am rather more partial to Copperfield than Pickwick Papers."
Roth conducts you through the long corridors with practiced ease, the course stamped so firmly in his memory he hardly needs eyes, as he could readily navigate by memory and the number of steps in each leg of the journey. At length, he stops before a sturdy door of thick, polished oak panels. "If you'll make yourself comfortable within, sir, the Laird will be with you as soon as he finishes his conference with Major Fuchida." Roth opens the door and the comfortable, welcoming air of the private chamber within draws you across the threshold.
A fire crackles in perfect submission in the deep fireplace, and before it Kermit, one of the Laird's Greys, is lying. He raises his head and eyes you, wondering momentarily if you will come over and give him the attention he richly deserves, then, with an obliging wag of his incredibly long tail, he returns to his canine slumbers. You settle into one of the comfortable Queen Anne chairs opposite the great mahogany desk and spend a moment viewing the contents of this most private of rooms . . . the claymore on the far wall, and on the floor beneath it the case containing fine Spencer bagpipes . . . the collection of Meerschaums arranged near the burlwood humidor . . . the neat stack of CDs by the Bose that fills this room with music when wished . . . the bookcases, with still more treats for the literate . . . .
And after a moment, the door opens again, and you are face to face with the Laird, the chief of his clan, your host. He smiles and steps to a cabinet, opening it to reveal a decanter of ancient port and fine crystal glasses, and as he pours the dark liquid into two of them, you begin to talk . . . .
I have a special affection for the pages in this section of the estate. These touch some of my most personal interests. By clicking on the selections to the left, you can learn a little bit more about my interests and the things I believe are important to a civilized people. I hope you will enjoy your visit here and return often.
I welcome your suggestions for additions to the Study.