Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ihad not thought a laird was capable of such pettiness.
Marian scoffed, her cheeks reddening even as she tried to force thoughts of Lachlan out of her mind.
She could not return to her chamber after that sorry excuse of a breakfast. Not without answering the slight.
Her chest tightened as she made her way through the narrow corridors of the castle, her mind already set on what she was going to do.
If his plan was to drive her away from the castle after what had passed between them at the well, then she would make it far more difficult than he had imagined.
She found the kitchen more easily than she had the first time. Its door stood ajar, and from there, she could already feel the warmth radiating from the stoves.
She stepped inside with her chin high, taking in the bustle of the room. Just like her last time here, none of the servants stopped to acknowledge her presence. But that would soon change.
Her gaze fell on the pantry, and her eyes lit up at the disarray of it.
This will do.
Back in London, she had been familiar with the running of the kitchen. She often spent her time there out of boredom, and even though she wasn’t any good at cooking, she mostly enjoyed the smell of fresh bread and woodsmoke.
She walked straight into the pantry, gesturing for two of the kitchen maids to join her.
“This pantry is not as it should be,” she declared with a pleasant expression. “And we shall set it right.”
The two maids stared at each other and then at her, speechless for a moment before the younger one spoke.
“Me L-Lady…” she stammered. “I… I daenae think the head cook would fancy that.”
Ah, the formidable Mrs. MacBride…
Marian had briefly considered her in her plan. Since their unpleasant first interaction, she had been careful around the woman. But as an English lady, now that she was here, she was not going to shrink back.
It seems I shall have to win her over.
She nodded at the young maids before turning to take a closer look at the pantry.
“Perhaps we should start with these,” she suggested, pointing at the pile of fresh vegetables near the bottom shelves. “Greens should be stored in the open, so they don’t go bad quickly.”
The maids stared at her without moving, their faces a mask of worry and fear.
“Very well, then,” Marian said, walking toward the shelf. “I shall move them myself and inform the Laird…”
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as they rushed forward, picking up the vegetables and arranging them on a new shelf she picked out.
“What’s happenin’ in me kitchen?” a voice cut through the room like a blade.
Marian’s heart thumped. She went still for a second before turning around, smiling at the large, intimidating woman as widely as she could.
“Good morning, Mrs. MacBride,” she greeted, even as the woman’s hard gaze swept over her from head to toe.
Mrs. MacBride did not return her greeting. “Ye’re nae meant to be here,” she grunted.
Marian swallowed. “Very well,” she said, holding her gaze. “But I have decided to spend my morning here today. After the breakfast I had, I thought it wise to acquaint myself with the kitchen.”
Mrs. MacBride scoffed.
Marian had half expected her to be angered by her remark. Instead, Mrs. MacBride smirked, sweeping her gaze over the pantry.
“And who gave ye leave to meddle in it?” she asked, her voice dropping ever so slightly.
“No one. I saw a need and chose to address it.”
Mrs. MacBride walked past her, picking up the vegetables that had just been arranged and dropping them on the floor. “This kitchen was run just fine before ye stepped into it, me Lady.”
Marian stepped toward her. “I do not doubt that,” she replied, gesturing toward the vegetables that were now scattered at her feet. “But these will spoil faster where they were previously kept. And when they do, your stores will suffer for it.”
Mrs. MacBride’s eyebrows rose slightly. “And what does an English lady ken about stores?” She hesitated for a moment, looking Marian over again. “I doubt ye’ve ever been in one.”
Marian pulled off her gloves and bent down to gather some of the vegetables. “I know a great deal, Mrs. MacBride,” she said, looking up at the frowning woman. She handed the vegetables over to the young kitchen maids. “And you have a great deal to manage here.”
She straightened up, dusting her hands just as Lilly walked in. She held the cook’s gaze and spoke again, her tone even. “Allow me to be of use.”
Mrs. MacBride did not say anything in response. She shook her head, walking out of the pantry after giving Marian one last warning glare.
Lilly rushed to her side. “My Lady!” Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
Marian gave her a look, drawing her closer to whisper, “Making myself at home.”
Lilly gasped in surprise, but her excitement was quickly interrupted by Mrs. MacBride’s shout.
“What are ye starin’ at?” Her voice was loud as she told off the rest of the kitchen maids, who had stopped to watch the drama, and they scrambled back to their original posts.
A small smile tugged at Marian’s lips as she turned back to the two maids in the pantry with her.
“Come now,” she urged, her eyes lingering on the vegetables in their hands. “Let’s get back to it.”
With that, she resumed organizing the pantry. She directed the maids over the sound of Mrs. MacBride’s loud protests, which were mostly indirect complaints intended entirely for her to hear.
“Daenae change up me orders!” she yelled once.
Marian whipped around, only to see her bending over one of the maids mixing flour.
“Excuse me, Mrs. MacBride,” she interrupted her once when she needed more hands to move around bags of grains.
Mrs. MacBride barely looked up to answer her.
“Pick any girl you want, me Lady,” she grumbled. “Ye clearly daenae need me permission.”
Several moments later, when she finally cleaned her hands off the dough, Mrs. MacBride walked into the pantry again.
Marian looked up to catch her frown fading, but once Mrs. MacBride caught her looking, it returned.
“Ye’ve rearranged everythin’,” Mrs. MacBride said flatly.
Marian nodded. “Aye.” The word slipped out before she could stop it, sounding strange on her English tongue. “I was sure to label everything, if you’ll let me show you.”
Mrs. MacBride arched an eyebrow. “I suppose,” she allowed, rolling her eyes.
Marian smiled.
“Over here.” She walked across the pantry, her steps eager as Mrs. MacBride followed behind her.
“I sorted the greens with the freshest ones behind. That way, you get to the older ones before they start to wither. I kept grains and flour separate from fresh foodstuffs, so the weevils do not spread easily. I also arranged the most frequently used grains on the lower shelves. That way, you don’t have to strain your back fetching them daily. ”
She turned to look at Mrs. MacBride, glad to see that the woman was no longer frowning.
A flicker of curiosity crossed Mrs. MacBride’s features as she asked, “Where are me oats?”
Marian smiled softly. “Right here,” she said, pointing toward the middle shelf where it could easily be reached. “You Highlanders seem to fancy oats quite a bit, so I kept them in the best spot.”
Mrs. MacBride laughed—a small, surprisingly sweet laugh that caught all the kitchen maids off guard. “Quite a bit? They’re the best food!”
Marian nodded. “I certainly have to agree. I could not get enough of your oat bannocks the other day.”
Mrs. MacBride lifted her chin proudly. “I see ye have good taste,” she said quietly, before pausing to look at her again. “I have bread bakin’. Would ye like to try some fresh out of the oven, me Lady?”
Marian’s smile widened in surprise. “Of course!” Her stomach grumbled right on cue. “I would very much love to try some. Thank you, Mrs. MacBride.” She let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding.
One of the maids fetched her a stool at the kitchen table, and another gave her a glass of water. Marian sat there, watching in awe as Mrs. MacBride brought out the hot bread from the stone oven.
At that moment, she realized, with quiet surprise, that it reminded her of nothing from her life in England. Yet, for the first time since arriving in Glen Carrick, she did not feel like a guest wandering through someone else’s world.
She felt… home.