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Although every thing was ready to pass on to Ryan, there was one pesky problem with the London China conglomerate concerning the clay pit rental. Gavin and Clara decided to travel to London to arrange for a new contract. The company had sent several agents the laird to negotiate, but nothing was ever resolved.
The trip to London was actually a vacation for them. They were able to attend several shows and enjoy the fancy restaurants. What they were not expecting was an invite to a fancy party at one of the mansions. It was mostly high ranking public officials and gentry type people; not their cup of tea, so to speak, but they decided to go. That required some shopping to get Clara dressed appropriately. She went with the gray again.
The negotiations for the new clay pit agreement got off to a very slow and unproductive start. Gavin sat at the head table and listened patiently as the company executives spouted off lots and lots of nothing. Clara sat in the back of the room and kept quiet.
After about an hour Gavin had had enough. He stood up and motioned to his wife.
"Gentleman. I am annoyed and insulted by your approach to this situation. We will remain in this room for one more hour, no longer. If we cannot come to an agreement within that time, the clay pit will be closed."
"That is not acceptable!" the gentleman at the head of the table spouted off.
Gavin smiled at all of them. "The rest of the negotiations will be with Lady Clara. You will meet her terms or there will be no contract. We do not need your money, but you need our clay. I suggest that you do not piss her off."
One hour later they left with a new contract.
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The formal party was not nearly what they were expecting. For some reason or other they were designated as special guests which they did not appreciate. They attention was not welcomed. Gavin found himself being questioned about his run in with the Fraser brothers that happened thirty years ago. Apparently the story had evolved into some sort of Irish legend. Gavin found it a bit difficult to be gracious. It got worse when his fellow party members started to ask him about his wife. They all wanted to know what it was like to live with the 'Red Lady'. Did she really sleep with a knife?
Gavin glanced about the room desperately looking for his wife. She was trapped in a circle of what appeared to be equally annoying inquisitors. He excused himself to go refresh his drink. In a flash Clara was by his side and they both unceremoniously exited the building. They were laughing all the way back to their hotel. Clara could not believe how her short trip to Moll's Gap had evolved in the 'Red Lady' legend. How many men did she kill? Could they see her knife? Is her husband afraid of her?
They relaxed on the train ride to Falmouth where they caught the ship for home. It was the last time they left the laird.
Gavin Erskine died in his bed at age seventy eight. His wife Lady Clara, also known as the 'Red Lady' or O'Reilly's bastaird joined him four days later.
