Chapter Thirteen
T he next morning, after a night of tossing and turning on the hard cot in the stable, with Kerrigan stretched out on a bundle of hay alongside her, Christine rose with determination. Even though she’d never been involved in the actual running of a home, and she had no idea how to run a keep of all places, she did know they needed servants—many more—than what they had. Her father’s home always had servants cleaning, cooking, shopping, and doing laundry. She knew the duties they needed to perform and how many were necessary for a smooth-running household.
Like other women of her class, she’d spent her entire life with a personal maid, along with numerous other servants, but the trip had taught her she could do things for herself—except take a bath—and did not want to give those in her new home reason to believe she was a spoiled English woman.
So, she dressed herself in an easy-to-wear warm wool skirt that she’d bought at Kerrigan’s suggestion during one of her shopping trips. Unfortunately, everything fancy that her husband just smirked at would most likely end up at the back of the wardrobe in the bedroom, never to be worn.
After a quick wash in the bowl of water she had one of the young men bring her the night before, she dressed, braided her hair in what would never be called well-done, and headed for the keep.
Kerrigan was gone, but he’d told her that he and Neil would be headed to Edinburgh to see about replacing their sheep. He left instructions with Patrick to begin visiting the tenants and seeing what their sorely neglected needs were.
Hopefully, with flour delivered the night before once Edward promised the granary’s bill would be paid today, the kitchen should smell of the wonderful scent of baking bread.
She walked into a very silent kitchen. No kettle of porridge bubbling over the hearth, no lovely aroma of bread baking, and no activity at all.
The kitchen maids all sat at the worktable, chatting away. Christine shook her head, thinking she must be imagining the scene before her. “Why is there no food being prepared?”
The chatting stopped and they all turned toward her. Isla spoke up. “Llioni is dead.”
Christine sighed. “I know that. But you all work in the kitchen. One of you must know how to at least cook porridge.” She looked at Isla. “I planned to find a new cook today, but since you cooked the supper last night, do ye think ye can do porridge?”
Edward entered the room and said, “No one ever cooked except Llioni. ’Tis a wonder Isla hasn’t poisoned us all yet.”
Isla reached out and smacked Edward on the arm.
She had less knowledge of the kitchen and cooking than any of them did. The first time she actually stepped into a kitchen had been here. “I assume that besides no porridge no bread has been baked either?” She turned toward Edward. “Did the flour arrive last evening?”
“Aye.”
“Can you get some and bring it here so we can get bread made?” Could bread be baked that quickly? She had no idea. “Where is the porridge kept? And does anyone know how to make oatcakes?” She was growing desperate, knowing after last night’s skimpy supper there would be hungry people looking for a meal once they arrived at the great hall.
One of the girls raised her hand. “I ken how to make oatcakes. My mam makes them all the time.”
Christine breathed a sigh of relief. “Very good. And what is your name?”
The girl dipped. “Bridget, my lady.”
“Can you get started on some oatcakes, Bridget? And make a great deal because I don’t think bread can be baked quickly.”
“Nay,” Edwad said as he hefted a container of flour onto the table. “My mam always mixes her bread up before she goes to bed and covers it with a piece of linen. If we mix it now,” he continued, “it might be ready for supper. I can run home to my cottage and ask her.”
“I don’t suppose your mother would be interested in cooking for us?”
He shook his head. “Nay, we have seven little ones at home.”
Seven! Plus him? In a cottage? She could hardly breathe thinking of such a thing. “Very well then. Hurry to your home and get instructions from her on how to make bread.”
Edward ran from the kitchen and Bridget began to assemble what she needed to make oatcakes.
“And the porridge? Does anyone know how to make that?” She didn’t even know what ingredients went into porridge.
“I’ve ne’er made it, my lady,” another one of the girls whose name she needed to learn said, “but I did watch Llioni make it each morning. I am interested in cooking, but she always pushed me away.”
“Good. Do what you can.” Christine looked at Mavis. “Go to the garden and bring back plenty of apples.” She swung around and looked at the last girl at the table. “What is your name?”
“Beatrice, my lady.”
She nodded. “Please go to wherever the cheese is kept and bring up as much as you can carry.”
So this was what being in charge of a keep meant. Just like it was Kerrigan’s responsibility to see to the clan’s needs, as lady of the manor, she was the one responsible for seeing that food was provided for those who ate at the great hall.
“How many break their fast here?” She asked.
Isla shrugged. “I doona ken for sure, because it changes, but twenty or so seems right. We have a lot more for supper.”
Supper! Yes, that meal again. Once the morning meal was finished, she would make a trip into the village and make things right with the vendors and shop owners who were owed money so she could buy some supplies to make supper better than the evening before.
From what Edward had said, things had gotten so bad that more than the granary didn’t trust the laird. Well, she didn’t know how to run a keep, but she certainly knew how to charm people. Her training in that, along with the experience she’d had during her Seasons would not be wasted.
Two hours later, Christine sat fanning herself with a limp piece of linen, thinking of the lovely, well-decorated fans she’d owned in London. The kitchen looked like a battle had been fought, but there were other things to be done. Once all those who had arrived to break their fast had been fed and on their way to do their jobs, she looked at the servants in the kitchen who appeared as weary as she felt. It had taken a great deal of scurrying around, shouting, and threats between Edward and his younger brother whom he’d brought back from his trip to his cottage to provide additional help.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “Our next matter is cleaning the bed chambers.”
Several loud groans reacted to her statement.
“Ye seem in a hurry to return home,” Neil said as they cantered along the turnpike that would bring him and Kerrigan close to Luffness Castle.
They had been gone five days, but during that time, they’d found a used, but very sturdy engine to replace the broken one, and arranged with a livestock agent to purchase more sheep as well as geese, rabbits, cows, pigs, and chickens. He’d also spent time with the bank in Edinburgh, setting up an account and withdrawing sufficient funds to pay for all the necessary daily expenses for several months.
“Aye. I’ve done enough traveling the past month to last me a long time. But his trip to Edinburgh was necessary and worthwhile.”
“And ye have a pretty wife waiting for ye.” Neil grinned.
Kerrigan smiled back. “’Tis true.”
Neil studied him for a minute. “Do ye really think Lady Lindsay is capable of managing the keep? From what ye’ve told me, she was raised in a much different way than our lasses are.”
He nodded. “Aye. The ladies in London are raised to ken how to run a household. ’Tis part of their upbringing.”
The other man frowned. “Kerrigan, this is no’ a rich man’s household. Luffness is a castle and keep. ’Tis different from one of those fancy London townhouses.”
Kerrigan studied him. “How do ye ken about fancy London townhouses?”
Neil grinned again. “I wasn’t always a smelly head shepherd in Scotland. My mam was a servant in one of those houses before she married my da and she told me many stories of how the ladies spent their time. They had someone waiting on them all day. My mam even had to bring chocolate e’ery morning to the lady of the house she worked in. They spend their time visiting each other for tea and gossip, buying clothes, and going to garden parties, the theater and balls. Any ‘managing’ they did was meeting with the housekeeper and letting her do all the work.”
The man gave him pause. Had he been too confident leaving Christine so soon after their arrival? He had left her with quite a mess. His concern grew as he realized that with Llioni dead, there really wasn’t anyone to take her in hand and help her learn what she needed to know. When he thought about how the keep looked when they’d returned from London, he frowned and urged Fergus to go faster.
“I don’t care where the bitch is. I want her found and her scheming and lovely arse brought back to London.” Carl Allenby waved the papers clutched in his hand as he dealt with the dimwit he’d hired to get his niece back. “I have documents here that would grant an annulment once she meets with the magistrate in Edinburgh. Then she will honor the betrothal I made with Lord Newton.”
Carl had spent money he didn’t have to hire someone to locate the whereabouts of the bloody woman. He didn’t care to know how the information was obtained, just that it was. He still found it hard to believe his niece had the nerve and intelligence to somehow find herself a Scottish Laird to marry her and sweep her off to Scotland.
Now he needed someone to fetch her. “Take her to Edinburgh, about twenty miles west of this blasted castle she’s living in. There is an inn there, the Gooseneck Ale House. I will meet you at the place with her betrothed. Do not harm her or touch her. She has a very large, brutal husband who you will have to avoid at all costs.” He stopped himself from reaching up to touch what was left of his poor nose. “However if you are given the chance to kill the bastard, do so. It will make it easier for me since my niece will be a widow and we won’t have to deal with the annulment. Pay someone who works in the bloody castle to find out how to get in and get her out.”
“I do not kill, my lord. If that is part of the job, you will need to find someone else.”
Carl waved him off. “I don’ t care. Just get my niece.” The man, Rupert Sanders he’d said his name was, nodded and slipped the information into his pocket and stuck out his hand. “I’ll have my money now, my lord. I understand you have debtors all over London.”
Carl stiffened at being spoken to that way from a man so far below him. “I will pay you half of what we agreed on, the rest when she is delivered.”
“Half now, plus travel expenses.”
Carl sighed. When this man returned Christine to him, he would have plenty of money. And this had to work. If not, he was most likely leaving the country. Blasted debtors.
He handed the last of his banknotes to him. The man counted them, tucked them into his pocket and nodded. With a grin and a salute, he turned and left the room.
Carl sat on one of the few chairs left in the drawing room. All the expensive paintings and furnishings had been sold. If only his luck would turn at the tables, but each time he went to the clubs, his money disappeared, and his debt grew. The last time he’d been to Brooks’s, he was told not to come back until he had the money to pay his debt with them. Imagine treating the new Lord Allenby that way!
Very few of his so-called friends would even buy him a whisky, and things were growing desperate. He had to get his niece back, marriage annulled, married to Newton, and money in his hands.
“Hollis!”
His only remaining servant appeared at the door to the drawing room. “Yes, my lord.”
“Get me a whisky, the decanter is empty.”
“The whisky is all gone, my lord.”
He cursed and left the room, and the house. He still had a couple of clubs he was welcomed at. At least for now. Someone there would buy him a whisky.
Bloody niece and her arrogant, low-class husband. Scotland!
Christine wiped her forehead with a piece of not-too-clean linen. She’d just finished helping the young lasses clean the last bedchamber. They’d started with the laird’s room right after that first disastrous morning meal days before.
She hoped Kerrigan would return this evening. He’d been away for days and all that time she’d worked like a servant herself. The new cook she’d hired, Rose, had been a very good choice but was still feeling her way with the unfamiliar kitchen, which was probably lacking some necessities. She’d also sent word to the village that she needed a few more lasses to work at the keep. Five young ladies showed up and she’d hired them all.
After spending time in the village, paying past due bills to the shopkeepers and vendors, she’d used the charm she’d learned from her governess to assure them all that the castle was now able to pay for their necessities and soon there would be sheep so those who earned their living that way would once again prosper.
“My lady, the new cook has just announced that the evening meal is ready to be served, and she needs all the serving maids at the kitchen.” Allison, one of the new maids made this announcement as she arrived at the bedchamber door.
“Yes. We must be sure that supper is served on time.” Christine looked around the room and decided it was clean enough. The bedchambers they’d worked in had required backbreaking days, but all the critters who had taken up residence had been disposed of. Fresh rushes sprinkled with lavender and rosemary had been laid down, which would do until she could order some carpets for the rooms. Clean bedding and hangings had replaced those that had been there for no-one-knew how long.
She stood, stretching and rubbing her sore back. She’d never worked so hard in her life. Truth be told, she’d never worked at all. She had been waited on, fussed over, made to feel like the lady that she was. Now she looked with dismay at her filthy dress, her plaited hair hanging in clumps, her dirty hands. If she were to join the others downstairs for supper, she had to clean up.
Sighing, she knew there was no one available to bring her warm water to clean up. She had to do it herself. Everything she needed these days she had to do herself. But it was still better than being married to Lord Newton. She shuddered.
The kitchen was in a frenzy. Rose seemed to have things under control, but considering how new she was to the kitchen, she was a tad frazzled. The maids were all racing back and forth, carrying platters of excellent-smelling food. There was even the enticing aroma of fresh baked bread in the air.
Without disturbing the goings-on, Christine retrieved a large jug of water and carried it upstairs to her and Kerrigan’s bedchamber. She was panting when she arrived. This whole experience had been a lesson in how hard the servants worked. She dipped a cloth into the water and washed as best she could.
She rummaged through the dresses she’d bought from the village seamstress, pleased again that the woman had some not-too-fancy dresses readymade. When she took out the dark rose wool dress, with tiny green leaves embroidered along the neckline, she thought it would be perfect.
However, it was a wrinkled mess, and she had no idea how to get the wrinkles out. Her maid had always swept dresses away to somewhere in the house and come back with them all pressed. However, now there was no choice. The dirty dress she’d worn when she spent the day cleaning was not a choice, either.
She smoothed out the dress as best she could and put it on. Since the great hall was generally chilly, she decided to wear a lovely rose shawl.
Her hair was a mess and had been for days since she’d been unable to wash it. The first thing the next morning, she would send word to the village that a few strong lads were needed at the keep. Their first assignment would be to drag the old bathtub she’d seen in one of the unused rooms to her bedchamber and fill it with hot water. She would climb in and soak for hours, or at least until the water cooled until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Just the thought of it made her eyes water.
Her stomach rumbling with hunger after the day she had, she left the room and hurried downstairs. Not paying much attention to where she was going and the poor lighting in the part of the staircase that reached the floor, she took two steps from the stairs and ran into a brick wall.
Well, a brick wall that was warm and gripped her shoulders. “Good eve, wife.”
Her heart sped up and she grinned. “Kerrigan! You’re home.” She peered up at him.
“Aye and anxious to see how ye fared.” He looked down at her. “’Tis sorry I am, lass, that I left ye here so soon after our arrival.” He gave her the crooked-little boy smile she recognized and loved. “Will ye forgive me?”
The fluttering in her stomach told her she was glad to see him. As frustrated as she’d been trying to make some semblance out of the keep after he’d barely introduced her, then hied off to Edinburgh, he was still her husband, and he was home.
It must have been the fatigue from all the work, because she opened her mouth to speak and burst into tears. In between sobs, she mumbled, “Yes. I forgive you.”
He took her in his arms and drew her close. She wrapped her arms around his warm, strong body and rested her weary head against him as the tears slowly dried up. His large hand cupped her head, rubbing her scalp. He pulled back and placed his hands on her face, looking into her eyes before his lips met hers.
Again, he gathered her close and nudged her lips with his tongue. She opened to him, and he plundered her mouth. When she thought she would melt to the floor, he pulled back. “That was a verra nice welcome home, Christine. But we will finish what we started later tonight.” He winked.
She took a deep breath and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and patted her hair where some of it had come loose from the ribbon. “I was headed to the hall for supper.”
He leaned in and kissed her again. Not the soul wrenching one he’d just given her, but a more subdued one. “Is there water in our bedchamber?”
“Aye. I just brought up a jug from the kitchen. It might not be too clean, but it’s wet.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “I will be down to join ye in a few minutes.”
She smiled, a warm feeling coming over her that Kerrigan was home. She had been so taken up with the jobs she’d been doing that she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him. They’d gotten close on their trek from London to the castle and had spent a great deal of time just talking and enjoying each other’s company.
Even though it had been quite a chance to take on an unknown husband, she’d been blessed with a wonderful, kind, caring one. She thanked the lord every night for Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
As he started up the stairs, she said, “You will see a change in our bedchamber.” This time she winked.