Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
W hen Fia knocked on the door of the healer’s cottage and entered, the place was quiet, betraying no signs of anyone being there. Though it was a cold day, it was also sunny, with no signs of an approaching storm, and the sunlight filtered in through the windows to illuminate shelf after shelf of jars and bottles, their contents more often than not a dull brown or green—though some were brilliant red and orange, while others were deep blue and bright green. There was an entire rainbow on those shelves, each jar labelled meticulously to communicate what was inside it.
The second thing Fia noticed about the place was how clean it was. Just like in her new home, there was no dust and nothing was out of place. The healer had to have been a very meticulous woman, she thought, as she walked farther into the room and began to examine everything on the shelves. There were herbs and pastes there she had never seen before in person, but only knew from the few books Mrs. Findley had in her possession and which Fia had read, first with her assistance and then, once she was confident in her reading skills, on her own.
Books! There must be books here too!
Fia was eager to get her hands on as many books as she could. She was eager to gather much knowledge and show not only to Callum, but also to those people in the clan who had put their trust in her, that she could not only meet, but surpass the expectations. Looking around, it didn’t take her long to find a cupboard filled with books and papers, some of which seemed several decades old, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to run her fingers over their spines, feeling the weathered leather under the pads of her fingers.
“Is there somethin’ ye wish tae read?”
Fia jumped back and shoved the cupboard shut, her cheeks heating uncomfortably at the sound of a soft, melodic voice. When she turned her head, she saw a woman with hair black as ink and eyes so blue they reminded Fia of the deepest parts of the ocean, tall and willowy. There was something patrician about her, but her hands, when Fia noticed them, seemed calloused, as though she was used to manual labor.
This must be the healer, then.
“Forgive me,” Fia said as she stepped away from the cupboard. She had only been there for a few minutes and she had already made a fool of herself. Not only; she could very well be in trouble for snooping around. “I’m sorry, I didnae mean tae touch anythin’. I just got excited about the books…”
The woman was quick to wave her off.
“I am pleasantly surprised ye ken how tae read. And please, feel free tae read anythin’ ye like. This is yer space too now,” she said as she approached Fia and stopped before her with a small curtsy. The gesture surprised her, and she returned it clumsily, barely keeping her balance as she tried to sink lower than the woman did. It felt right; after all, Fia was certain she was above her in status. “I am Effie. Effie MacLeod.”
MacLeod? Like that man?
“Are ye related tae the man who came tae me home?” Fia asked.
“Och aye,” said Effie with a soft chuckle. “Magnus. He’s me husband. A shame ye met him without me there. He can be a wee… intense.”
He was a little intimidating, to be sure, though she didn’t dare say so out loud. Was he not like that, then, when his wife was around? Did she manage to soften his sharp edges? Fia was curious to see them together.
“Well, nay matter,” Effie continued as she gestured to Fia to take a seat in one of the chairs near the fire. “Come. Let us discuss yer role.”
Fia perched on the edge of the seat, as though ready to flee at any point. She didn’t know what, precisely, it was that made her so nervous. All she knew was that she felt as though she was under scrutiny, that all eyes would be on her and that she was afraid that she would fail. Time and time again, she had to remind herself that those thoughts had been planted into her mind by Callum, who wanted to see her weak and lacking all self-esteem. Every time she allowed such a thought to take a root, she also allowed him to win.
Well, he willnae win. I willnae let him.
“I’m sure Magnus has already told ye I require some assistance,” Effie said.
“Aye,” said Fia with a small, awkward chuckle. “He only told me that there may be an?—”
Fia cut herself short. She didn’t know if Effie was aware there was a chance there would be an attack.
“There may be a what?” Effie probed.
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Fia considered her next words. Before she could come up with something to say, Effie spoke once more.
“An attack?” she asked. “Och aye, I ken about it. It’s why I asked fer assistance. I wished tae ensure our men will have all the care they will need.”
Fia let out a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have to lie about it or pick her words.
“I’ve never treated such wounds afore,” said Fia, but Effie was quick to wave a hand dismissively.
“It daesnae matter,” she said. “I’ll teach ye. An’ there isnae much o’ a difference. A wound is a wound. Ye’ll help me with that, the herb garden, an’ with the pastes an’ the potions. Ye ken a little about that? I’m sure Mrs. Findley showed ye many things.”
“Aye,” Fia said, showing some of her pride in her work as she smiled. “I ken how tae make all basic preparations an’ some more advanced.”
“Excellent,” said Effie. “As I understand it, ye’re also skilled in childbirth. I have assisted a few births meself, but they were all easy births. There are some pregnant lasses in the castle now who may need yer assistance.”
“I’ve been a midwife fer years,” said Fia. “I can help.”
“Good… good,” said Effie as she stood and headed to the workbench, which was far bigger and sturdier than the one Fia used to have at home. “Come. Ye can help me with a few pastes an’ I’ll tell ye more about the castle.”
Fia followed Effie, standing next to her as she laid out several bunches of different herbs, making sure they were all in a neat row. Then, she pulled out jar after jar from one of the cabinets and placed them all on the table, before handing Fia a pestle and mortar and grabbing one for herself.
“So, I suppose this is yer very first time in a place like this,” Effie said as they began to work on the first paste. “It’s quite empty these days, I’m afraid. Many o’ our men have been sent out on missions.”
“Missions?” asked Fia. “What kind o’ missions?”
“Well, as the laird suspects an attack, they seek more information,” Effie said. She was confident in her movements, every motion practiced and perfected throughout the years, and Fia watched her, observing the way she ground the herbs into a paste. “He an’ Magnus have sent several groups out in the past few days, but ye’ll meet them all eventually.”
Fia couldn’t help but wonder if Callum was one of those men, but she didn’t know how to go about asking. Only a few days prior, she would have been elated to talk about him, to tell everyone in the castle that she was his intended, but now she didn’t even want anyone to know about their connection. The less people knew about it, the better, though there were bound to be a few men who were aware of it, since they had made the bet with him.
She didn’t want to think about it. The less she thought about Callum, the better she felt.
“Who goes out on those missions?” Fia asked, hoping she could get some more information on those who had left the castle. “Are they all simple soldiers?”
“Most o’ them,” said Effie. “Though they are all well-trained. An’ o’ course, their leader. They usually hold higher rank or wish tae it. One of them, an ambitious young man, is the some of our previous war master an’ he is goin’ after the position now.”
It could be Callum. Ach, how I hope it is!
Even if he returned soon, his absence meant that she had some time to adjust to her new life and to put her plan in motion, but also to make a good first impression before Callum had the chance to ruin it for her.
“I see,” said Fia, trying to keep her tone as casual and flat as possible, even as excitement coursed through her at all the new possibilities. “An’ the laird? Is he a good man?”
“Laird Stewart?” Effie asked. “Och aye, he’s a very good man. Nay one has anythin’ bad tae say about him, especially if he has a glass of good whisky in his hand.”
That’s good. At least he’s kind.
Even if her plan failed, the laird would at least not create any problems for her. But as long as he hadn’t given his heart to another, Fia could mold herself into the woman of his dreams.
“How come he’s nae wedded yet?” she asked, as she followed Effie’s lead and ground the herbs into a fine powder, then a paste. “Surely, a man like him would have many offers.”
“I suppose so,” Effie said. “He never discusses it with me, though. All I ken is that he likes a very particular kind o’ lass, so perhaps he has yet tae find one.”
That was more than enough to capture Fia’s interest. With such a specific preference, it could either be really easy for her to draw him close or very difficult, perhaps even impossible.
“What kind o’ lass?”
Effie shrugged a shoulder. “Graceful, I guess, refined. I would think that most noble lasses would fit this description, but apparently he is very… peculiar.”
There had to be more than this, Fia thought. Perhaps the laird had the reputation of liking such women, but there was something else, something he either wasn’t telling other people or something they simply hadn’t found out yet.
Or perhaps he is simply strange. Maybe it’s the lasses who dinnae want him.
“Alright, now that ye have the paste, we can move tae the next step,” Effie said, and from then on, it was all business as she showed Fia the ropes. They still chatted idly, and Fia was glad that Effie was kind and warm although direct and to the point, offering direction and assistance whenever Fia needed it, but also letting her work on her own and trusting the skills she already had. Effie truly seemed to trust her. She didn’t think of her skills as useless nor did she consider her to be beneath her because she was a peasant girl. All she wanted to do was help her learn and Fia was happy to listen.
By the time they were done, the sun was setting in the horizon and Effie told her to get back to her new home so she could rest, even if Fia assured her she was not yet tired. Effie wouldn’t hear of it, though, and so off Fia went, heading back to the little cottage which had been given to her and Bane. When she opened the door, she found him already there, stoking the flames in the fireplace.
“Where have ye been all day?” Fia asked, leaning against the table.
“I did what ye told me tae dae,” said Bane. “I kept askin’ people about the laird.”
Fia sprang up, too excited now to stay still.
“An’?” she asked. “What did ye find out?”
“Nae much,” said Bane with a small shrug. “Everyone simply says he’s a very good man. There’s also rumors the council wishes him tae wed, so if ye’re truly serious about this ridiculous plan, ye must hurry.”
That was good to know, Fia thought. One couldn’t rush these things, but she would have to do her best.
“What did ye find out?” Bane asked.
“Nae much,” Fia said, repeating his words. “Only that he is fond o’ whisky an’ graceful lasses.”
“Ach… well, ye tried,” Bane said and had just enough time and presence of mind to dodge as Fia grabbed the nearest object—a small pewter saucer—and threw it at him.
“Thank ye, Bane, that is very helpful,” Fia deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest. Bane wasn’t wrong, she knew that much. She didn’t have the grace or the training of a lady nor did like whisky.
She would have to fake it. She would have to fake as much of it as she could, as best as she could. There was no other choice if the council was pressuring the laird to wed. She would have to make herself appear as appealing as possible, both for him and for the council, as they had no reason to allow their laird to wed a peasant girl instead of a noble woman who could give the clan a powerful alliance.
“Ye may nae believe it now, but I’ll make it happen,” Fia swore. “I will.”