Chapter 16
Since Linneliath was so isolated, it was decided that Ellie’s best fitting gown (ironically, the black mourning gown) would be sent to a seamstress back in Edinburgh, along with her measurements, as taken by her lady’s maid, and a detailed list of the items she’d need for a new wardrobe.
Then the items could be delivered much more quickly than if she made the trip down herself.
Ellie made out the list, which she felt was far too long, and handed it to Agnes to be sent in the post along with the gown.
She was unaware until much later that both Agnes and then Struan made some changes to the list.
The next day, Ellie walked to the far school, intending to introduce herself and offer her aid if it might be helpful.
When she got there, she asked to speak with the headmistress if it was convenient.
Though Elspeth didn’t realize it, news about MacInnes’s reaction to Robbie’s disregard for Elspeth had got around.
No one intended to disregard MacInnes’s wife after that.
So despite having to flee a Latin lesson and quickly don the lace shawl that she wore only to church, the headmistress assured the new wife that certainly it was no inconvenience at all.
Ellie smiled at her and said, “I wished to see the school, and also to ask if there is anything the students need. Since Linneliath is so close, I would be happy to bring food, or fuel…or help with the children?”
The headmistress, Mrs Hardie, insisted on giving her a tour, and then introducing her to the class, all of varying ages.
With wardrobes on her mind, Ellie noticed that many of the children were dressed in clothing at the absolute end of its useful life.
A dress that began good enough for a lady to wear to church eventually became a workaday gown for a daughter or sister.
Then the spans of fabric in the best condition would be shortened or refurbished to make a dress for a younger girl, who didn’t need to be at the height of fashion, only decently turned out.
And as she outgrew it, perhaps the skirts would become an apron.
Scottish practicality (not to say stinginess) meant that most women, no matter their class, would reuse, take in, take out, mend, patch, and repurpose virtually any item of clothing until the fabric would bear not a single more stitch or snip.
Only then would clothes become rags, and even so they’d be pressed into service for cleaning, being stuffed into furniture or bedding…
and perhaps at the ultimate end, to be shredded and pulped to be made into paper.
These children needed more than rags. It gave Ellie an idea. “You know, I shall soon have some gowns I’ll no longer need. I shouldn’t like the fabric to go to waste. How many children attend here? How many boys and how many girls?”
The woman told her the numbers, and Elspeth silently decided that in addition to clothing, she would also make sure the children had enough to eat.
The village seemed to be doing fairly well overall, probably as a result of the income from those who worked in the mines.
But that didn’t guarantee good fortune trickled all way down to the lowest—namely, the children with no strong family connections to ease their way.
“I do hope everyone likes purple,” Elspeth murmured as she headed home.
Back at Linneliath, the servants were surprisingly receptive to the idea of doing yet more work, since the efforts of several would be required to cut and sew the new outfits.
“Oh, we could dye the boys’ clothes black,” one maid offered. “Black is good because it doesn’t show stains or wear as quickly, and a boy will rip or stain a shirt the moment he puts it on. It’s fate.”
Mrs Negus, who knew what mischief boys could get up to, nodded in agreement. “Black for the boys, then. The girls will wear the purple, though. As soon as the mistress’s new gowns arrive, we’ll get to work on the purple ones.”
Later that day Ellie told Struan, “I intend to visit the school often. I don’t have enough tasks to occupy me, what with having a score of servants who all know their jobs. The school doesn’t have enough hands for the work.”
“How often?”
“Three or four times a week, I think. Is that acceptable?”
“You do whatever you like, Ellie. As long as you’re back in the evening. These moors aren’t safe to travel after dark. There are too many places where a person or a horse or even a whole carriage could stumble and get into serious trouble.”
She nodded, unconcerned. The approaching summer meant that the days were already getting long. Soon the twilight might linger till ten in the evening.
A few days after the first of her new gowns were delivered, Elspeth was delighted to carry the resewn children’s clothing to the school, helped by two maids who’d done much of the sewing. They presented the items to Mrs Hardie, who accepted them with a trace of surprise.
“Did you not think we’d finish so quickly?” Elspeth asked.
“In truth, ma’am,” the woman said, looking down, “I did not expect you to start. The few times a person of means has noticed the school, we’ve gotten promises of aid. But promises are cheap.”
“Does Mr MacInnes support the school at all?”
“His father was most generous in his time. Mr MacInnes, the young man I mean, has been away.”
“I see.”
“We get an annual gift, dispensed by Mr MacInnes’s man of business.”
“And is that sufficient?”
The woman looked away again.
“I see,” Elspeth repeated with a sigh. “Let me guess. The amount of the gift has not kept up with the rising costs of goods and food.”
“That’s exactly the case, ma’am.”
“I will speak to my husband. And until then, at least the children have new things to wear.”
“It is a most excellent solution, madam. With all our girls in the same color, now they’ll be easy to find no matter where we all go.”
“Well, that’s something. No one likes to misplace people,” Ellie said with a laugh. It was only on the way back that she remembered where she first heard the phrase: from Struan. I don’t like misplacing people.
Elspeth was optimistic when she returned to the house.
She had made great progress in bringing the house up to the standards of a modern woman such as herself.
Elspeth didn’t like how dark and gloomy many of the rooms were to begin with, especially because Scottish skies tended toward dark and gloomy on their own.
So she ordered new fabrics for the window hangings and instructed the household on how to whitewash surfaces that could be treated.
She gathered all the lamps and candelabra she could find from the forgotten corners of the house, moving them into the more regularly used rooms. Then, when it was cloudy or dark, the rooms could be lit in defiance of the weather.
Her back ached from all the climbing stairs and going from room to room, but it would be worth it.
She hoped to surprise Struan with the newly brightened dining room this evening. The dining room chairs were just reupholstered, and the drapes had been replaced with a much brighter color than the drab olive shade some previous person had chosen years ago.
Ellie herself dressed with similar care, wearing one of her new gowns.
This one was a pale pink wool that seemed eternally springlike.
She wore her hair only half up, allowing the rest to fall freely down her back, since there was little need for full formality when it was just a couple dining alone. She wore the pearls around her neck.
She was waiting there when Struan entered, and he stopped short, looking at her with an inscrutable expression.
“I know you were out visiting the tenant farmers all day,” Elspeth said, “so I asked Cook to prepare an especially hearty meal. If you wish…”
But Struan wasn’t fully listening to her. He looked her up and down, and then said, “You have your hair down.”
* * * *
Struan went still, struck by the vision in the doorway.
Elspeth was a beautiful woman no matter what she wore, proven when she wore the aggressively purple gowns that didn’t do a thing to flatter her.
But to see her now, wearing clothing meant for her, in a style that matched her personality, and with all the accessories and jewelry expected of a lady…she was a vision.
Her hair was put up in a style that seemed almost haphazard but somehow accentuated her face perfectly, as a few blonde curls cascaded down to settle on her shoulders.
Now she touched her hair. “I didn’t feel like putting it all up tonight. Do you wish me to fix it?”
“Fix it? No, I like it.” He loved it.
“Thank you,” Elspeth said. “And I’m wearing one of my new dresses.”
“Yes, I can tell because it’s not purple.”
Elspeth beamed at him. “I picked the color out myself. What do you think?”
“It’s pretty.” Christ, that’s all his brain and mouth managed to say? “I mean to say that you look very pretty,” he corrected himself. “As you always do.”
But then his gaze flicked around the room, becoming more troubled. “There are more candles than usual.”
“I had more brought into the room. I thought it was too dark before. I could hardly see my meal most evenings.”
“There are too many.”
“Tell me which ones you would like me to extinguish, then,” Elspeth said quickly.
They both moved toward the nearest sconce at the same time, and ended up blocking each other’s way, and Elspeth naturally laughed because even being half-knocked over by a lumbering giant was somehow delightful to her.
Struan instinctively put out his hands, intending to move her to the side, but she had lifted her arms up for some reason and he found himself holding her by the waist, looking into her eyes, the reflection of too many candles making them bright and dangerous.
Her laugh faded, but she held his gaze. And tilted her head up, her lips parted.
And then they were kissing. He didn’t know if he decided it or she did, but it felt so damn perfect that he didn’t care.
Elspeth’s mouth was hot under his, her lips silky and sweet and why not bite her lower lip just a little, and hear her gasp and push into him, kissing back with a sudden fierceness that sent heat plunging downward.
He lifted one hand to her throat, stroking the smooth flesh, feeling the patter of her heartbeat under his fingers.
Unsure if he’d alarmed her with the intensity of his kiss, he hesitated, almost stepped back.
“No, don’t stop,” she said quickly. “It feels so nice, like…brandy without the burn.”
Brandy without the burn. Sweet. Warming. Intoxicating. Yes.
She was soft and inviting, her arms reaching up and her hands grazing his shoulders, then her fingers were curling around the edge of his jacket as if to keep him close.
He kissed her again, more slowly, trying to savor the taste of her. Not wolf her down the way he’d started.
It was difficult, because she was luscious and he was starving.
But he forced himself to take a little time, notice all the details.
The way she leaned into him, her curves pressing against his body like a different kind of kiss.
He took a breath, and used the moment to lean back and look at her—now with a flushed face and open mouth, her eyes half-closed, the lashes fluttering.
He laid his thumb on her lip and then tipped it into her mouth, letting her taste it.
Curious lips circled it and she flicked her tongue against the pad of his thumb, and she may as well have shot lightning into him. He bit back the moan that threatened to burst out, and withdrew his thumb before she accidentally finished him standing right in the middle of the dining room.
Except…they weren’t in the middle of the room. They’d somehow moved to the wall, his body pinning hers. He could lift her up just a little and it would be the perfect angle to…
No. Not in the damn dining room.
Not for the first time anyway.
Even as he thought that, Ellie was kissing him again, open-mouthed and urgent, uninhibited, eager. Like she enjoyed it. Like she wanted more. From him.
Struan was so overwhelmed that it took him a moment to respond when her tongue slid against his. The raw sensuality of the move made his vision blacken at the edges.
He held her exactly where he needed her to be so he could lean in and…
“Um. The soup course is ready.”
Struan glanced toward the interruption. The footman who announced that from the doorway was staring at the ceiling, face wooden. Good man.
Elspeth giggled, the sound mostly lost and only the vibrations of it going into his chest, where she’d pressed her face. “The soup course is ready,” she told Struan.
“Yes, so I’ve heard.”
“We should probably eat the dinner prepared for us.”
“It had better be the best soup ever made,” he muttered.
Ellie smoothed down the fabric of her gown and walked gracefully to the table, allowing the blank-faced footman to pull the chair out for her. Which was good, because Struan needed those precious few seconds to adjust himself so he could walk at all.
It was perfectly fine soup. But not at all worth interrupting the previous course.
From where she sat, Elspeth looked at him, smiling over her uplifted spoon. “I wonder what the dessert will be,” she said, her eyes sparkling.