Chapter 16 #3
“Me own blend with very specific ratios,” Elspeth confirmed, a quiet pride swelling within her. “From herbs I gathered from yer garden, just like I did back home. One night I had thought of it, and then I started plantin’ the herbs in the garden, so I could make the brew for meself here in London.”
Hugo finished the cup, then held it out for a refill.
“More,” he commanded, a faint smile touching his lips. “If you’d please, My Lady.”
“As ye wish, Yer Grace,” Elspeth said as she refilled his cup, then poured another for herself. “Do ye mind if I sit?”
“Since when have you asked for my permission?”
“Cannae sit or nae?”
“Sit, sorceress,” he said, pushing his ledgers aside. “You said your mother taught you how to make this blend?”
“Aye, when I was a wee lass.” She brought the warm cup to her lips, hiding a smile. “I remember one time in particular.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, angling his body toward her.
“Are ye nae busy?”
“Not now. Tell me, Elspeth.”
“I still feel the sting of young Hamish McDuggar’s words, like a nettle rash. ‘Ye’re too odd, Elspeth Fraser,’ he had sneered at me once. He wrinkled his freckled nose as if I had just crawled out of a bog. ‘Always with yer head in the clouds, talking to the trees.’”
“Some things do not change.” Hugo motioned for Elspeth to refill his cup again.
“He would run off with the other farm lads, leavin’ me standin’ by the barn, me stomach twisting into a knot tighter than any fisherman’s. The rejection was so blunt and public… He made me feel… small. Insignificant.”
“Well, that is hard to imagine,” he said with a laugh. “Yet, I can imagine hard. Go on.”
“I had crept back home, tryin’ to hide the tremor in me chin, but me maither, bless her keen eyes, saw everything.
She found me huddled by the hearth, pretending to mend a tear in me apron.
‘What ails ye, me lassie?’ she asked. ‘Yer face is pale, and yer stomach sounds like a storm brewin’. Do ye think ye ate somethin’ foul?’”
“A mother always knows,” Hugo remarked with a smile.
“Aye! I mumbled something about a bad berry, but she just smiled and said, ‘Aye, a bad berry can sit heavy in the stomach. But I ken just the remedy.’ She turned to Morag, me nursemaid, who was hummin’ softly as she spun wool by the window—as she did with me maither on most days I was hurryin’ about the village—and told her to fetch some chamomile tea, so I asked her what that was. ”
Elspeth got choked up then, which prompted Hugo to hand her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes delicately, then poured more tea.
“She said it was something that would help. The knot in me stomach began to loosen, even just from their kindness. We walked to the edge of the meadow, the three of us. I can remember the afternoon sun, warm on me face. Me maither’s skirts rustling through the tall grass.
Morag telling me: ‘There, Elspeth. See them? Like tiny suns, they are. Wait until ye see how they bloom in the water. Pick some for us, lass.’”
Hugo nodded, the faintest curve on the corner of his lips.
“I can remember me maither kneelin’ beside me, her movements fluid, before she began plucking the flowers. ‘Each one holds a little bit of the sun. And when brewed, that peace settles into ye. If ye cannae find chamomile, perhaps look up at the sky. Ye will find peace there, me love.’”
“I can see why you enjoy it so much,” Hugo remarked as he drained his cup.
“The simple, repetitive motion of pluckin’ flowers was calmin’, and for a few precious moments, Hamish and his cruel words faded away with the passin’ wind. Back home, me maither heated water in the iron kettle over the fire to brew me potion.”
“You are a sorceress by birth, then,” Hugo teased. “Seems your mother shares your talents.”
“Aye, I learned every good thing I ken from her. She was taken from me too early, but that is a story for another day. So, aye! When the tea was ready, me maither poured it into me favorite mug, the one with the chipped rim from when I first learned to drink from it. It was a pale golden color, fragrant and earthy. I wrapped me hands around the warm ceramic, feelin’ the heat seep into me cold fingers.
The first sip was like a gentle hug, spreadin’ warmth through me belly, easing the tension that had coiled there. ”
“Tell me more,” Hugo urged, leaning forward in his seat.
“‘There now,’ me maither whispered, brushin’ a stray strand of hair from me face.
‘See? The sun’s peace.’ And it was, Yer Grace.
The tea, brewed with love, dinnae just settle me stomach.
It settled me heart. When I feel alone, I go back to that moment, surrounded by the quiet comfort of me home and her unwaverin’ love. I was loved for bein’ me.”
A hint of sadness flickered in his eyes, so intense that it shook her to her core. He looked down, his brow furrowed, his jaw tense.
Elspeth cleared her throat, “It is gettin’ late. I should get some sleep. We have many preparations to see to before the big party.”
She began to gather the pot and porcelain cups hurriedly, nearly knocking them together.
“Leave it,” Hugo urged. “We have servants to take care of these things.”
“I willnae leave it. I will leave it better than I found it. It is me way.”
“Indeed,” Hugo said as she held the dishes to her chest and hurried out of the room.
After taking the pot and cups to the kitchen, which the maids chastised her politely for, Elspeth went up to her chambers.
She shed her clothes, which still held glue, shreds of paper, and glitter.
She saw the pieces fall to the floor, but she did not have the strength to kneel down and clean up one more thing.
Instead, she strode over to her wardrobe and grabbed her softest nightdress. She slid the cool, silk fabric over her body and took pleasure in the simplicity of the sensation.
Then, she walked over to the window, the coolness of the late summer evening a welcome friend. She looked up at the stars, sticking her head slightly out of the window to admire Orion’s belt. She used to look at it with her father, lying on bales of hay outside of their humble home.
Suddenly, she heard a noise to her right and looked down at the street below.
There is nothin’ there, except maybe a stray cat.
Thwack.
She heard it again and looked to her right, where Hugo had thrown open the shutters in his room.
She had forgotten just how close their rooms were, especially given the twists and turns of the grand second floor.
His room had to be enormous, especially if the entrance is so far down the hall.
She had only seen it once and did not have the opportunity to fully explore it.
“Do you often stick your head out of windows?” Hugo asked.
“I can ask ye the same question. Fancy meetin’ ye here, aye?”
“I heard a disturbance and feared for your safety. I did not know if a suitor had taken to climbing the trellis to reach you, or perhaps an errant invasion of frogs was taking place. One never knows with you, My Lady.”
“I assure ye, I was just trying to find Orion’s belt.” Elspeth pointed in the distance.
“It seems you are right,” Hugo said. “It has been a while since I took the time to stargaze, but that is definitely Orion’s belt. You have a keen eye.”
“Me faither used to show me when I was a wee lass.”
“You are wistful tonight,” he noted softly. “You miss Scotland, do you not?”
“Aye, more than ye ken.”
“Goodnight, sorceress,” he said, closing the shutters.
“Goodnight, Yer Grace,” she whispered to herself.
She drew her curtains, opting to leave the shutters open to let the fresh air into her room. Much as she wished for the wilds of Scotland, this would have to do.
She walked to her bed and climbed in, pulling the lush duvet up to her chin. She wriggled her body in several positions before getting it just right. She rested her head on the pillow and let her mind wander.
She tried to focus on plain things, like running streams and fluffy clouds, but all she could see was him.
Him.
She rolled over onto her stomach and thought of the night in the tiny room they shared so many weeks ago now. She thought of the way his body glistened in the low candlelight, wet from the bath. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his muscles so large and bulging.
She slid her hand down her stomach, gently stroking herself over her nightgown as she thought of how he had felt between her thighs.
The feel of his touch, of his mouth on her.
How she longed to feel it again. Much as he angered her, she burned for him even more. She hated knowing just how close he was to her.
If she pressed her ear to the wall, would she hear his breathing? Did he stay up at night, thinking of her?
She stroked herself faster as the idea of him thinking of her flooded her being. She wanted to be rid of him so badly that she had no time to think of how it would be to leave this place.
What do I want? she asked herself, lifting her skirts to expose her sex.
She used her wetness to slide her fingers up and down, up and down as she thought of his bare back, his wide shoulders, his greedy smile, his blue eyes.
She quickly realized that there was nothing she could do to satiate herself, so she threw herself on her back with a huff.
Is there nothin’ this arse cannae do to infuriate me? To frustrate me beyond belief? Even when he isnae doin’ somethin’, he is doin’ somethin’.
She stared up at the ceiling until she succumbed to heavy slumber.