Chapter 12
12
“ W e werenae expectin’ ye for another hour!” Ida called over her shoulder as she set a bowl of dough on the table.
Peter was working on shaping the bannocks for breakfast while Myrtle sat beside him, overseeing the whole preparation with an air of disdain. The furry creature looked bored, at best. Ersie sat at the table, sipping tea and looking as if she had a very long night.
“Well, Jeanie was of a mind to run the whole way here!” Ceana explained with a laugh.
The little girl, who had been hiding behind her, grinned and peeked out from behind her skirts, and then invited herself inside merrily.
“Good morning!” she greeted the room as if she had never met a stranger in her life.
Ida turned around with a smile. “Oh my! I wasnae expectin’ company like this either! How happy I am to meet ye, lassie!”
Jeanie wasted no time in skipping over to the table and then the pot on the fire, inspecting every single thing that she could get close to.
“This is where ye lived, Ceana? I love it!” she exclaimed.
“I’ll give ye a tour soon, hm? Breakfast first?” Ceana tried to guide her toward the table gently.
“Is that a kitty!?” Jeanie gasped and reached for Myrtle, who was not at all interested in anyone other than Peter—as always.
The cat’s hackles rose as he hissed at her and crawled under the table. Always a strange creature, he was.
“Och… the kitty doesnae like me…”
“Dinnae feel bad about it—he doesnae like me either,” Ersie said easily, for it was certainly true enough.
With that, Jeanie was back up on her feet, looking at everything on the shelves and mantelpiece as if she needed to commit everything to memory.
“The spread might nae be as lavish as the one ye are used to at the castle, little lass, but I?—”
“Nobody can cook like ye, Maither,” Ceana interjected.
“And if ye eat it all, we can show ye the gardens after yer tour,” Ersie offered.
“Aye! The gardens!” Peter piped up. “I can show ye me favorite places to play!”
Peter was a few years older than Jeanie, but he was still small for his age and preferred to play alone. So, his offer meant a lot to Ceana. Not that she had any worries about her family getting along with Jeanie.
Now that she was thinking about it, she couldn’t really remember what Peter had been like at that age. He had Myrtle by then, so he was more content to occupy himself than seeking company. But Jeanie seemed to want to be around others desperately.
Ceana helped to set the table while Ida finished frying the last of the bannocks. She heaped the bacon and pan-fried tomatoes on the plates and passed them around while the rest sat in a bowl beside the fresh apple jam and butter that Ersie had helped churn the other morning.
It was nice living at the castle—it was a whole new world for her to explore. But it was nothing compared to the comforts of her family home.
“Are ye excited about the festival tonight, dear?” Ida asked, motioning for Jeanie to take her seat, which she did right across from Myrtle once more.
“Very much!” Jeanie answered, digging into her food with enthusiasm. “I have always wanted to go, but Faither said I was too young! But he promised I could go with Ceana this year! I want to see everything!”
“Well, ye had better pace yerself, lassie—there’s always next year for whatever ye miss,” Ersie advised, chewing slowly.
“But that willnae be the same as this year! It will be different!” Jeanie insisted. “I can do it! I can see all of it!”
Ceana and Ersie exchange knowing glances. Were Blaine here, this was exactly the sort of thing that her friend would have bet on.
Thinking about him brought her pain. He had not only jilted her at the altar but had also abandoned his brother and his niece.
No, if she thought about it any longer, she was going to get herself too worked up, and today was a day for celebration.
The rest of breakfast passed much the same, with Jeanie and Peter exchanging comments about the festival and the things that he had seen the years before. Ersie commented here and there about the safest ways to do the various things, since she would likely be overwhelmed by everything happening around her.
The next thing Ceana knew, she was washing up with her mother, the pair of them taking turns watching Ersie and the children playing tag in the garden. It was for the best, as Ersie was the only one who had enough energy to keep up with them.
“He hasnae come back,” Ida said softly, wiping the table before setting out the vegetables and things to prep for the next meal.
Ceana knew who her mother was referring to, but she was almost afraid to ask her to elaborate.
“Nae a single word from him either. I dinnae ken if he’s still sniffin’ around the distillery, attemptin’ to poach our workers, but if he is, then they have been quiet about it,” Ida continued. “I want so badly to believe that this is over and that the worst of it is behind us, but I feel like I’m countin’ me chickens too early.”
It was certainly a sentiment that Ceana understood well.
She stopped, turning her back to the window and leaning against the washstand. “Ferguson is still tryin’ to poach our workers? As if he doesnae have his own?!”
Ceana could still remember her father’s funeral, where he had offered to pay the wages of her workers, but that was when he was insistent that she marry him. She knew that he was more than willing to strike at her in any way that he could—not that she had done what he wanted her to do. But going after her mother? Her father’s distillery? She knew that Ferguson was a cruel man, but she had foolishly thought that he wouldn’t go that far.
“Well, they are bein’ paid proper wages again, and consistently. I think he got the message that they wouldnae be so easily swayed,” Ida sighed, peeling carrots slowly.
“So the money has come through, then? From the Laird?”
“Aye.” Ida nodded, her chin dimpling, but she would not look her daughter in the eye. “I am sorry that ye have to worry about that. It was me place to take care of ye and yer braither… and I failed ye. I didnae even apologize to ye or thank ye properly for what ye did for us.”
Ceana shook her head. “That’s nae necessary, Maither. I didnae mean?—”
“But ye did, and I am thankful for it,” Ida said firmly.
“The Laird has given ye everything that ye needed then?” Ceana probed.
“Aye, he has,” Ida confirmed. “All of our debts have been cleared. And as I said, he hasnae come back.”
“Good.” Ceana crossed the room toward her mother and wrapped her arms around her tightly. “There’s nothing that I wouldnae do for ye and Peter, ye ken?”
“But I want ye to be happy… that is all I have ever—” Ida paused, emotion thickening her voice until she couldn’t speak properly and needed a moment to compose herself.
“The Laird only looks beastly, Maither. I think that maybe… our marriage will work.”
Ceana said the words just because she wanted her mother to feel better. She hadn’t meant to mean them. At least, she didn’t think that she had. Yet, the moment she said them, memories of what she and Neil did last night flashed through her mind. If she had put aside her pride and given him what he wanted, they might be having an entirely different conversation right now.
“Good. I just cannae stand the thought of some cold brute… ye ken.” Ida shuddered.
Ceana rolled her eyes. No matter how Neil might appear to other people, she was overly aware of just how warm he could be when it was just the two of them. Even now, she was far from him, but the mere thought of him stirred her desire. She needed to focus. She was here to spend time with her mother before going to the festival.
“Fortunately, he has tasked me with raisin’ Jeanie. I think the lass and I are goin’ to get along just fine. If anything, I think that findin’ things to occupy her time with will be the bigger challenge if I’m bein’ honest. She’s so curious and high-spirited.”
“Sounds so much like somebody I kenned at that age,” Ida remarked with a teasing smile.
“I think it’ll be good for her to get better with her hands. Of course, bein’ the Laird’s daughter, she doesnae have to do her own mending and whatnae, but there is nay harm in learnin’ such skills. She’ll need them when she’s older anyway.” Ceana let out a laugh. “I wonder how the Laird would react to me teachin’ her some knife skills.”
Ida swatted her daughter with the cloth in her hands. “I dinnae want to ken how ye learned knife skills in the first place, daughter!”
Ceana grinned. “Bl—” she cut herself off.
Blaine and Ersie had taught her enough to know how to defend herself if she ever needed to. Blaine had been very insistent on it, in fact. Ersie had only been too happy to teach her a soldier’s mindset. But now those were more memories that Ceana did not wish to dwell on.
“How are her dancin’ skills?” Ida asked, effectively changing the subject. “That might be a skill more worth teachin’?”
Ceana nodded, getting back to the task of tidying up the place for want of something to do with her hands. “I reckon that I shall figure that out tonight at the festival. She has such a bright mind—I have nay doubt that she will take to it quickly even if she has two left feet.”
Neil came back to mind and the impossible fluidness with which he moved. She tried to shake the image away, but it would not go.
“Actually, I will head to the distillery for a while—make sure that nothing needs to be done there while Jeanie’s occupied in the gardens. If ye need me, send Peter,” Ceana said, wiping her hands and folding the cloth back into a neat square before placing it on the table in front of her.
She nodded curtly to her mother and turned to go out the back door that would lead her down to the curved path that separated the cottage from the distillery. It would not be a long enough walk for her to put the Laird out of her mind, but hopefully, it would be enough to slow her racing heart.
But she had made it no more than four steps outside when Peter skipped over to her, Myrtle trailing behind him, the same bored expression on his little face.
“I got a letter for ye!” he called out, brandishing the letter and waving it in the air.
As soon as he was close enough, Ceana snatched the letter from his hand. She placed her hand on top of his head and used her splayed fingertips to spin him while clicking her tongue in faux admonishment.
“But what does it say?” Peter whined, already wanting to know more.
“That is none of yer business!” Ceana laughed.
“But it was urgent! I want to read it!” Peter insisted.
Ceana tucked the letter down the front of her dress and shook her head firmly. “Nay! Now, run along!”
Peter kicked at the tiny pebbles on the path in protest, and his cat ran off after one of them. Ceana turned around and ducked swiftly under the heavy doors of the distillery to read her letter in peace.
Quickly, she turned the letter over in her hand, but she stopped before she could break the overly familiar wax seal.
Blaine’s seal.