Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Fergus drew the horse and sleigh to a halt on a hill overlooking the lands of Aldmist Fell. The fields were buried beneath snow, so there wasn’t much to show Mistress Gallagher, but he still took pride in the land under his care. He pointed toward the valley.
“When planting season arrives, that field will be full of bere.”
“Bear?” Mistress Gallagher turned wide eyes on him. “How horrible. What will you do?”
Fergus scratched his jaw. “Eh…”
“I saw a bear at the Royal Menagerie.” Gracie grinned up at him, pulled her hand from her fur muff to make a claw, then growled.
“Sassenachs,” he muttered toward the sky, shaking his head in mock distress. “No’ that kind of bear, lassie. Bere is a grain. Like barley.”
“Oh!” Mistress Gallagher said. “That sounds much safer.”
Gracie turned her curious gaze on him. “Are there really bears at Aldmist Fell?”
“No’ unless you brought one in your trunk,” Fergus replied.
Mistress Gallagher laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “Scotland is such a strange land. I don’t know much about it.”
“It’s no’ so strange. You would grow to like it well enough if you lived here.”
Her merriment fled, and a small crease appeared between her brows as she directed her gaze straight ahead. “I didn’t mean to sound patronizing. I simply meant—”
Miss Gracie bolted from the seat. “Let’s have a look around!”
Fergus juggled the reins as she scrambled over him, kneeing him in the stomach.
“Oof!”
“Gracie!”
Mistress Gallagher reached for her charge, but the lassie was too quick. Her boots landed in the snow with a muffled thud as Fergus drew in a wheezing breath.
Mistress Gallagher froze, perhaps realizing she was draped across his lap. Her warm body so close elicited an ache in his lower belly that had nothing to do with the blow to his midsection.
“Come on!” Miss Gracie called to them. “Let’s roll down the hill.”
The lassie dropped into the snow and started her descent before either he or Mistress Gallagher could react.
“Wait!” Mistress Gallagher nearly fell as she clambered from her side of the sleigh.
“She’ll be unharmed,” Fergus said, watching as Gracie built up speed, her arms and legs flailing wildly. Her screeching laughter filled the air.
Mistress Gallagher stopped at the spot where Gracie had begun her descent. “How do you know? What if she knocks her head on a rock or worse? I promised Lavinia I would watch out for her.”
Fergus secured the reins and climbed from the sleigh, placing his arm around Mistress Gallagher’s shoulders just as she slipped on the snow. She inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away even after regaining her balance.
“You’re a good watcher, lass,” he said. “Your friend Lavinia will have nothing but praise for you.”
Miss Gracie reached the bottom of the slope and flopped on her back, giggling wildly. “That was fun,” she yelled. “I want to do it again.”
Mistress Gallagher looked up at him, the worry lines on her forehead fading. “She wasn’t hurt?”
“No’ unless all that giggling gives her a bellyache. Many a McTaggart has taken a roll down the hills, and everyone has lived to roll another day.”
Mistress Gallagher chuckled lightly. “You probably think I’m a ninny-hammer for worrying so much, but I owe Lavinia my life. I couldn’t live with myself if I disappointed her.”
“You feel you owe her for taking you with her when she left the brothel.”
He didn’t release her as he moved to take Molly’s bridle, ensuring the mare wouldn’t bolt and leave them stranded. Meanwhile, Miss Gracie remained at the bottom of the hill, swinging her legs and arms to make arches in the snow.
Mistress Gallagher leaned against him as if seeking warmth. “I do owe her for convincing Lord St. Ambrose to let me live with her when he set her up in Chelsea, but she saved me long before the marquess became her benefactor.”
Fergus held his tongue. Having been guilty in the past of saying the wrong words to her at the wrong moment, he didn’t want to risk speaking. She was confiding in him, and he wouldn’t give her cause to second guess her decision.
“Lavinia found me in the alley behind Madam Montgomery’s.
I was sick with a fever and had gone several days without a meal, though I no longer felt the hunger.
Lavinia spotted me from her chamber window that morning and asked Madam Montgomery to come to my assistance.
The madam advised Lavinia to forget about me—said it wouldn’t be long before I knew everlasting peace. ”
His gut tightened in anger. Ignoring another person’s suffering was the definition of evil.
Mistress Gallagher smiled ruefully. “Lavinia isn’t someone to be ordered about, though. She brought me inside that afternoon. Lavinia was new to the brothel and indebted to the madam, so she risked everything for me.”
In London, Helena had risked her life and livelihood to find her younger sisters. Her family had been living in poverty when she was taken from their home, and creating better lives for her kin outweighed any concern for herself. It seemed that Lavinia shared Helena’s bravery and selflessness.
“I was too weak to put up a fuss about entering a brothel,” Mistress Gallagher said.
“Even if I could have argued, I don’t know if I would have.
I had a roof over my head and a place to sleep.
During my first week there, Lavinia spooned broth into my mouth and cared for me as if we were family.
When Madam Montgomery found me in Lavinia’s chambers, she ranted and threatened to toss us both out with the rubbish, but she’d invested too much in Lavinia.
Madam Montgomery loves nothing more than money, and she wanted a return on her investment. ”
Fergus growled, “Women like her are a menace to society. Taking advantage of young women down on their luck is deplorable.”
“Yes, I suppose they are no angels of mercy, but I cannot fault Madam Montgomery for escaping her own unfortunate circumstances by becoming a madam.” Mistress Gallagher rested her head against his shoulder.
“The woman has lived a hard life, and as it turned out, she had a heart after all. She made a bed for me in the kitchen pantry so I could benefit from the warmth of the kitchen hearth. She said as long as I remained out of sight and promised to earn my keep when I was better, I could stay.”
He swallowed hard as a bitter taste rose to his tongue. “Earn your keep how?” he asked quietly, images of her fending off unwanted attentions flashing through his mind, causing his jaw to tighten.
“Not in that way,” she said. “Madam Montgomery’s girls are touted as the most beautiful in London. I was never a candidate to become one of them.”
“Why no’?”
“Madam Montgomery made those decisions. I didn’t question her.
” She pressed her lips tightly together, clearly still hurt by whatever the woman had said about her, even though she’d been spared the indignity of becoming one of the madam’s girls.
Was she not pretty enough? Missing an air of innocence? Madam Montgomery could go hang.
“When I was healthy again,” Mistress Gallagher continued, “I cleaned the girls’ chambers, helped with laundry, mended what needed mending. I was a seamstress by trade and a good one.” She held her head higher as she revealed her hidden skill.
“Where did you learn to sew?”
“My mother tried to teach all the girls in my family, but I was the only one who took to it. A modiste took me on for a while, but the arrangement didn’t work out.”
She sighed, leaving the impression that there was more to the story, but he didn’t press her.
“I also assisted in the kitchen at the brothel. I was busy and happy to have a place to stay. I kept to the shadows, worked hard, and closed my eyes when needed.”
Miss Gracie had stopped wallowing in the snow and was trudging back up the hill. They didn’t have long to finish their conversation. He hugged Mistress Gallagher against his side before releasing her.
“For what it’s worth, lass, the madam was wrong. You are of the best quality. She was just too blind to notice.”
Mistress Gallagher rolled her eyes, but an endearing blush stained her cheeks. “I think you are doing it up brown, Mr. McTaggart, but thank you.”
“I’m wet and cold,” the little lassie bemoaned as she topped the hill, her nose bright red and her teeth chattering together.
“Oh, dear.” Mistress Gallagher hurried to gather her charge in a hug. “We should return to the castle before you catch a chill. You need dry clothes and something warm in your stomach.”
“My cottage isnae far,” Fergus said, “and it willnae take long to have a fire roaring in the hearth. The embers should still be glowing from my morning fire.”
“That doesn’t solve the problem of wet clothes,” Mistress Gallagher replied.
He hadn’t planned a stop at his cottage, but he was warming to the idea. In his own domain, no McTaggarts would be eavesdropping. “The lass can wear one of my shirts and wrap a tartan around her shoulders. Her clothes will dry by the fire.” He ushered them toward the sleigh.
Mistress Gallagher surprised him by not arguing as she climbed up beside Miss Gracie, settling the blanket around the girl.
Fergus joined them in the sleigh and signaled for Molly to continue along the ridge.
His cottage lay in the next valley, close to a stream and protected by a grove of silver birch.
A thin line of smoke rose from the stone chimney jutting from the center of the pitched roof.
“Very nice,” Mistress Gallagher murmured as Fergus drew the horse and sleigh to a halt outside the rock wall.
“Aye. The cottage has served several generations of McTaggarts well. It appears a bit barren now, but come summer, flowers of every kind grow in the gardens. My grandmother planted them before I was born.”
His home was simple and functional, not the sort to make a rich man jealous, but it was his. He’d saved enough to purchase the deed from his former employer five years ago, and he took pride in caring for what was his.