Two more attempts to gain his throne involving the help of the Swedes and the Spanish came to nothing, and even James’s marriage in 1719 to the Princess Maria Clementina proved less than successful. After six years, she left him and retired to a convent, though not before she gave him sons. The elder of these, Charles Edward, grew to be that ‘Bonnie Prince’ whose handsome face and charming ways would rouse the Scottish Jacobites to take up arms again and march beside him twenty-five years later…but that is another story, and too sad to tell.
I much prefer to think of James VIII and III in his old age in Rome, perhaps half-dozing in the sunshine of a warm Italian afternoon, and dreaming of the northern coast of Scotland and the proud red walls of Slains as he’d once seen them from the sea, and of the crown that must have, for that moment, seemed so nearly within reach.
A NOTE OF THANKS
When doing my research, like most writers, I must depend on the kindness of strangers, and in Cruden Bay I was spoiled by kindness. So many people, from the shopkeepers to people I passed on the street, gave me friendly advice and assistance, that even if I’d learnt their names I doubt I’d have the space to list them here.
I’m grateful above all to Joyce, Stuart and Alison Warrander of the St Olaf Hotel, where I stayed, who made sure that my room (#4) had a view of both Slains and the sea, so that I could imagine what Carrie was seeing; and to Stuart’s brother, who read and corrected my use of the Doric. The Warranders and their staff were incredibly helpful to me, as were their regulars in the hotel’s public bar, who cheerfully answered my questions and even suggested the perfect place for me to put Carrie’s cottage. My thanks also to all the drivers of Elaine’s Taxis who ferried me around, and to Elaine herself who took good care of me and even switched the meter off one afternoon to help me hunt down some of my elusive settings. I’m also grateful to the landlord and staff of the Kilmarnock Arms, and to local historian and fellow author Mrs Margaret Aitken and her husband James and daughter, who were kind enough to have me in to tea and share their knowledge of the history of the area. I’m indebted to both Brenda Murray and Rhoda Buchan of the Cruden Bay library, who searched out articles and books for me and found me details I could not have found myself, without them.
I’ve tried to repay all this kindness by getting my facts right. I hope I’ve succeeded, and that you’ll forgive me if I’ve slipped up anywhere.
Finally, I owe thanks to Jane, for her years of encouragement, and to her family, for welcoming me to Glendoick.
And for helping this book find its place in America, thank you to Shawna McCarthy, for not giving up, and to Robin Kaye, who was my publishing yenta.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After studying politics and international development at University, Susanna Kearsley worked as a museum curator before turning her hand to writing. Winner of the UK’s Catherine Cookson Fiction prize, Susanna Kearsley’s writing has been compared to Mary Stewart, Daphne du Maurier, and Diana Gabaldon. Her books have been translated into several languages, selected for the Mystery Guild, condensed for Reader’s Digest, and optioned for film. The Winter Sea was a finalist for both a RITA award and the UK’s Romantic Novel of the Year Award. She lives in Canada, near the shores of Lake Ontario.
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