Chapter 410 - Easter Sunday (1/2)
It was Easter Sunday and much of the parish was in attendance in the tiny church located in the highlands of Scotland. After the Vicar's sermons the crowd quickly dispersed including the family of the last Vicar, Robert McGonagall Sr. Vicar McGonagall was still fondly remembered by the local church going populace. It was a shame he'd passed away some six years ago from a fierce ache in his chest.
His widow, Isobel McGonagall still lived in the village of Caithness with her two sons and their families; the eldest being named after his father, Robert, and the youngest, Malcolm. The oldest child, a daughter, Minerva McGonagall was a professor at her mother's old posh boarding school. Still unwed, which was a tragedy and a complete oversight in the villager's opinion.
The villagers chatter as they make their way down the road back towards the village down below. The usual paths taken through the grass are avoided as the grass is rather muddy. It had been raining somewhat fierce the day before but thankfully the sun was out on this Sunday afternoon. With the sun shining so warmly most of the mud is bound to dry up.
That being said it was the highlands, one day it was sunny, the next day it was cold and wet, and the following day it was snowing. There is a very good Scottish saying, ”Cast not a clout till May be oot.” In other words, the Scotland highlands weather is often quite unpredictable.
A group of gossiping elderly women chattered loudly in a group as they walk back down the road, the local village gossips so to speak. They were either spinsters or widows with not much else to do. One of the women with her hair done up in wispy curls eagerly points at a dark-haired stranger making their way across the outskirts of the village.
The women instantly begin to chatter and speculate, who on earth the stranger could be? They didn't have to speculate long when they saw the stranger making his way towards the home of the McGonagall's. The two brothers lived in houses side by side of each other with their mother living next to them in her marriage home.
One of the elderly women with a rather large mole on her chin says, ”Well, that's new. I don't suppose you think, he's come a courting McGonagall's widow, do you, Mary?”
Mary, the elderly woman with wispy curls shakes her head in the most definitive fashion. ”He's far too young for her, Margaret. A cousin, perhaps?”
”Aye, that must be it,” Margaret wisely concluded in agreement.
Nevertheless, the group holds a speculative gleam in their eyes, no doubt intending to stop by for tea with Isobel later in the week to further inquire about the identity of the stranger. Satisfied, there was something of interest to do during the week, the women return to gossiping about the latest scandal in the village. Apparently, Farmer Brown had been caught stealing chickens from Farmer Owens. The constable had gotten involved and now, Farmer Brown was to be forced to return the chickens and pay a rather hefty fine.
The middle-aged wizard in his forties nervously pats down his slicked-back hair that only caused his widow's peak to become that much more prominent. Elphinstone Urquart checks himself for the sixteenth time that his clothes are still clean of mud and unwrinkled. Making sure he has a firm hold on the bouquet of flowers in his hand and the bowl of potato salad that he'd been asked to bring in the other, he takes a deep breath, before marching up the steps of the cottage.
However, before he can knock on the cottage door, the door swings open to reveal a pretty little lass with golden, reddish hair. The eight-year-old girl has a crown of flowers in her hair and is wearing her Sunday best dress. Smiling the girl says, ”So you're the fellow that's courting, Aunt Minnie?”