Chapter 3
3
Alyth did not sleep well that night, since she was constantly plagued with nightmares of being trapped against the wall by Laird Carrick. This time, however, there was no Davina to save her, and she woke up shivering with fear several times. She eventually managed an hour or two just before dawn, but she still felt drained and exhausted when she rose from bed.
As she made her way downstairs for breakfast, she met some of the other women, who remarked on how pale she looked.
“I didn’t sleep very well,” Alyth confessed, yawning. “I’m sure I will be better later, though.”
“Bad dreams?” Flora asked. “I often have them, especially when Mairi makes us eat tripe. I hate tripe!”
The others laughed, and Alyth envied their friendship and all their carefree banter. She did not yet feel like one of them, but hoped she soon would. None of them had asked about her upper-class accent yet, but she reasoned that was only a matter of time.
“No,” Alyth lied. “No nightmares, but I never sleep well in a strange bed, though I expect I will get used to it, and I bumped my head on the roof.”
The last part was the truth; even though Alyth was of average height, the sloping roof was so low just above her bed that she had difficulty in avoiding it.
Morag patted her on the back. “We a’ hated sleepin’ in that room,” she said, “but Mistress Maisie will move ye as soon as another one is empty. Be careful when it’s rainin’. There’s a leak in the roof.”
Alyth sighed. She would have to grit her teeth and put up with these little hardships. After all, she was working for a noble cause, and she was determined not to be deterred from her mission by anything except death.
Death.
That suddenly seemed like a much more likely prospect than it had before Laird Carrick had scared her so much. Alyth had always prided herself on her self-defence skills, but up against a six-foot-two inch man she was not quite helpless, but at a severe disadvantage.
However, Alyth reminded herself again of the alternative, being Laird Robertson’s wife, and her mission to retrieve her lost treasure. She was glad to be distracted again by some humorous small talk.
She thought of trying to find out a bit more about the Laird and his daughter, but was afraid to be seen as too inquisitive; that would arouse suspicion. Alyth knew that the fastest way to spread any kind of rumour was through servants’ gossip!
As soon as she rose from the breakfast table, Alyth went to find Maisie so that she could receive her instructions for the day. She walked into the small room in which Maisie kept the keys and other paraphernalia she needed to run the household, and immediately stopped in her tracks.
Maisie and Gavin were locked in a tight embrace, kissing hungrily like two young lovers instead of a couple who had been married for thirty years. Alyth was astounded that a couple who had been together for so long were still attracted to each other in a carnal way.
Their togetherness had not become some mundane thing, a habit akin to eating or drinking, but was still passionate. Her heart warmed as she gazed at them, then she realised that she would embarrass all of them if she stood there much longer, so she beat a hasty retreat.
Alyth was hesitant to approach the room again, so she passed the time looking at the family portraits along the wall. As yet, she had not had her own portrait done back in the MacAdams Keep, and doubted if she ever would, since she was such an active person she doubted if she could have sat still long enough!
The pictures were all dated, so she could trace the family’s lineage through the generations, and she noticed the strong thread of a resemblance that had persisted to the present day. Most of the men had strong features, with high, sloping cheekbones and broad foreheads, traits which Alyth could see on Lachlan Carrick’s face. The women had mostly married into the family and there were very few of them who were blood relatives, so their features varied from face to face.
Alyth was fascinated, when she came to the portrait of Davina’s mother, to realise that the resemblance between the two of them was quite striking. They both had the same dark, slightly wavy hair and deep grey eyes. Sandrina Carrick’s face was slightly squarer than Alyth’s, however, and lacked the dimple in her chin that Alyth had. Yet now she could understand Davina’s observation.
Alyth was lost in her thoughts when she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Maisie standing behind her, smiling. “I can see why wee Davina got mixed up,” she remarked. “Ye are very like Milady.”
“I can see that now,” Alyth agreed. “My goodness—we could be sisters!”
“But ye’re not,” Maisie reminded her. “Back tae work, hen. I need ye in the garden today.”
“I’ve never done any gardening before,” Alyth said dubiously.
“It’s no’ very hard,” Maisie replied. “The hard work is mostly done by the men, which is why I am very glad tae be a woman sometimes!”
Alyth laughed then looked down at her clothes. She was wearing an apron, but had not yet been given a uniform. The one she had been wearing on her arrival was too tattered and dirty to wear, so she had been given another, but that did not fit her properly. Even if it had, it was in such bad condition that kneeling in the dirt and grass would ruin it anyway.
Seeing her look, Maisie said, “There is a work dress bein’ made for ye, but in the meantime ye will have tae wear what ye have on.” Her tone was regretful.
Just then, one of the stable lads passed them wearing a pair of breeches. Alyth had occasionally worn these when she was learning her martial skills, but even though such an outfit was quite shocking, no one had commented. After all, she was mistress of Cairnloch Castle.
However, that was not the case any more. Dare she ask for a pair, Alyth wondered?
“I could wear a pair of breeches, if you don’t mind,” she said thoughtfully. “This dress is far too short for me.” They both looked down at the hem of the garment, which only reached the middle of Alyth’s calf. If she knelt down, it would only come down to her knees.
Maisie frowned at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “The lassies will a’ laugh at ye, mind,” she warned.
Alyth shrugged. “I have been laughed at before,” she said carelessly. “It will not kill me.”
Maisie caught one of the manservants and gave him instructions. He looked shocked, but he obeyed his orders and came back a moment later with a pair of baggy breeches and a long shirt.
Alyth went into the tack room beside the stables to change, and came out a few moments later looking like a different person. The baggy tunic had been tucked into equally baggy breeches that were tied at the waist with a length of frayed rope. The legs were too long, so Alyth had tucked them into her boots. Maisie thought she looked like a slender teenage boy, but evidently the gardeners did not think so; their gazes followed her all the way into the kitchen garden.
By the time the hour of her midday meal arrived, Alyth’s back was aching, and she never wanted to see another dandelion as long as she lived. She went into the kitchen, and as Maisie had predicted, all the other maidservants laughed at her, but it was in a delightful, good-humoured way.
Alyth joined in, enjoying making fun of herself, this was not something she had ever been able to do before. She loved the warmth of the group of young women in which she found herself, and the fact that they accepted her felt like a tremendous honour.
When she knelt down again to battle the weeds in the herb garden, Alyth was feeling more cheerful than she had for days. Her chat with the others had not only been enjoyable, but profitable, since she had found out the names of the most influential members of the garrison, the ones who had the Laird’s ear. She decided that she would try to pursue a friendship with at least one of them and see what came of it.
She had just pulled out another handful of weeds and was about to throw it into the basket behind her when a little hand plucked it out of her grasp, and Alyth looked around to see Davina looking at her shyly.
“Davina,” Alyth said with a smile. She looked at the pale blue dress the little girl was wearing and said admiringly, “My goodness. How pretty you look today!”
Davina smiled, then reached out to take Alyth’s hand and led her to a wooden bench under the shadow of the fruit trees that grew around the kitchen garden.
There, she put a book on Alyth’s lap and tapped it with her forefinger.
“Do you want me to read it?” Alyth asked.
Davina nodded with a shy smile. Alyth hesitated for a moment. She had thought it might be a good time to talk to Davina about her mother’s death and tell her that her mother had also passed on, but decided it was too soon. Davina was fragile, and Alyth was in no position to play with fire, so she began to read aloud and point at the pictures as she went, asking the little girl about them, trying to urge her to speak.
They had only read a few pages of the book, however, when Alyth, out of the corner of her eye, saw the unwelcome figure of Lachlan Carrick coming towards them, frowning.
Lachlan had been about to pick some apples and nuts for Davina, since she loved apple pie and sweet chestnuts roasted over the fire. Then he saw the new maid and his daughter sitting close together, and he noticed how similar she looked to the wife he had loved and lost.
Jeannie was a little taller and more slender, her eyes were a little darker and more almond-shaped, and she had a dimple in her chin whereas Sandrina had not. However, at a glance, from a distance, they could have been mistaken for each other.
At the last moment, Alyth looked up and saw him, and paused in the act of reading Davina’s favourite story to her. She should have been helping to harvest the vegetables in the kitchen garden as well as weeding it; that was what he was paying her for, after all.
Yet, Davina looked more content in the new maid’s company than she had for a long time. He had employed a woman to look after her, but she had gone to see her sick mother for a few weeks, and Davina was unsupervised. She was seemingly indifferent to this, since she had never expressed a great deal of affection for the nanny.
However, now, whether it was because of the resemblance to her real mother or some other quality the woman possessed, Davina was drawn to the new maidservant.
Alyth stood up and curtsied briefly, and suddenly, he could see that she was not in a maid’s uniform. Lachlan’s eyes widened in surprise. He did not know whether to feel angry about a woman wearing breeches or not, but she was not dressed indecently.
In fact, he found her clothing quite alluring, but he forced the thought, and the guilt it brought with it, to the back of his mind as he walked towards them.
Davina looked around and saw him, then smiled and reached up to embrace him. Lachlan loved to feel his daughter’s arms around him, and laughed softly as he kissed the top of her head. Since his wife’s death, she had been his whole world, and as he watched her with the new maid, he felt jealous; he did not want to share her with anyone.
“Davina,” he said, his voice gentle, “you should not take the servants away from their work. They have things to do, and you are keeping them away.”
Davina’s face fell, and Lachlan felt wretched for having chastised his daughter; she was so fragile. He looked up into the eyes of the woman who was causing him so much trouble.
“This is not what I pay you for,” he said reproachfully. “You are a housemaid, not a nursemaid. Get back to work. Have I not told you already to leave my daughter alone?”
If he had expected meek compliance, he was disappointed. Alyth squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up, then looked him squarely in the eyes.
“Davina is my lady too, and I must obey her,” she said defiantly. “She summoned me to read to her, and I obeyed. I have not harmed her, nor would I ever do so. I think she enjoys being read to, my Laird.” She looked down at the little girl. “Do you not, Davina?”
Davina nodded vigorously, beaming at Alyth. Then she did something neither the Laird nor Alyth had expected. She let go of her father and went to Alyth, drew her down onto the seat again, and put her arms around her before opening the book again. She looked up at the Laird reproachfully, then pointed to the book again.
“What would you like me to do, my Laird?” Alyth asked him as Davina put her arm around her waist. “I can go back to my gardening if you wish.”
The Laird took a step forward, bringing himself closer to her. Alyth wanted to step backwards, but she stood her ground, not wanting him to see how afraid she was of his intimidating bulk.
Then Davina pulled at his kilt and gave him a pleading look, and Alyth saw the defiance going out of his expression at once. It was quite evident he would do anything for his daughter, and Alyth realised that having Davina on her side was a wonderful tool to have on her mission.
“Well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It is a rare thing to have a maid who can read, and who speaks like a lady.”
“I was a lady’s maid, My Laird,” she told him. “I needed to be able to read sometimes. I picked up her way of speaking too. Is that wrong?”
His eyes had darkened with anger, and the glare he gave her was venomous, but Alyth refused to be cowed. She stared back at him, feeling her own rage rise to meet his. Why should she be treated this way, even if he was suspicious of her?
Lachlan looked down at her with some respect. She had courage, he had to give her that, but she was far too mysterious for his liking. She was hiding something; he was sure of it, but what could it be? Yet, Davina liked her, and there were not many people who were accorded that honour. Perhaps he could bend a little just this once if it made her happy.
“If you were a lady’s maid, you must know how to behave in a ladylike manner,” he conceded. “You may read to her as long as she wishes, but Davina must choose when to stop. She is your lady, as you said, and you must obey her. Do you understand?”
Alyth boiled with fury inside.
Of course, I do, you monster! I’m not a simpleton, she thought, but she merely nodded and said, “Yes, My Laird.”
Davina tugged her tunic and drew Alyth’s attention back to the book again. “Where were we?” Alyth asked, smiling as Davina turned to the right page.
The last thing Lachlan saw was Davina leaning her head on Alyth’s shoulder as she began to read the story aloud.