Chapter 13
Once again, Eliza woke up in Duncan’s embrace, but this time she knew she could not stay. She looked at Duncan’s sleeping face and sighed. She had to leave him, but it was so hard when all she wanted to do was snuggle further into his embrace and go back to sleep.
Eliza reluctantly rose from bed, donned her clothes, and slipped back to her room, carefully avoiding being seen by any of the servants.
To keep up the pretence that she had been in her own chamber all night, she quickly slipped on her nightdress and got into bed, pretended to be asleep, then allowed Maisie to wake her up.
She donned a simple blue woollen dress with a high neck and long sleeves, since she wanted to keep her attire simple. They were visiting the village of Lennoxburn that morning, and Eliza had no wish to antagonise the villagers further by showing off.
Iona’s outfit was quite different. In contrast to her usual dresses, she was wearing a linen one in a shade of bright red, but it had a lower neckline than Eliza’s and was trimmed with cream lace.
A pair of ruby earrings hung from her ears and a gold, heart-shaped pendant adorned her neck.
In Eliza’s opinion, it was far too showy an outfit, but she kept her opinions to herself, not wanting to cause an argument.
As they were about to board the carriage, Duncan came up to greet them and bowed to both of them, smiling.
“Good morning, Duncan!” Iona called. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Duncan replied, but his gaze rested on Eliza and a meaningful glance passed between them.
Iona glared at Eliza and said sweetly, “I hope my being here does not make you uncomfortable.”
Eliza laughed. “On the contrary, my lady, you have given me exactly what I needed.”
Iona looked puzzled, but Eliza was not inclined to explain. In a way, she was glad that Iona had come because now Duncan could see the differences between them and know that they were exact opposites.
As he watched them climbing into the carriage, accompanied by Maisie, Duncan was indeed comparing them to each other.
Iona was tall, self-assured, selfish, and arrogant.
Eliza was small, combative, humorous and fiercely intelligent.
It had come as a shock to him, but while he was making love to her, his thoughts had been all about her pleasure and not his own, and such a thing had never happened to him before.
She had submitted to his needs and given him her virtue, and that meant that no other man could ever receive it. Eliza had chosen him as the one to whom she had given this enormous gift, and Duncan had never felt so proud or so privileged.
The carriage rolled onward into the village, which was around half a mile away from the castle, and Eliza did not even try to make conversation with Iona.
She prattled on about the weather, the poor state of Duncan’s estate compared to her father’s, and how much she disliked the local people.
She did not have a good word to say about anything or anyone, and Eliza was heartily glad when they arrived in Lennoxburn.
Eliza stepped out of the carriage and smiled as she smelled freshly baked bread, flowers, herbs and numerous other pleasant aromas. The square was filled with the sound of voices, mostly the haggling of stallholders and customers, and she loved it.
The stalls were selling all manner of products, and Eliza could hardly wait to look at every one of them. It had been years since she had been to a market, and even then, she had been unable to buy anything because of lack of funds due to her father’s gambling.
Eliza ventured into the crowd, smiling, with Iona beside her. Immediately, a little girl of about six rushed forward, holding out two red roses. She was a pretty little thing with deep red hair and bright blue eyes, and she was grinning from ear to ear as she presented a rose to each of them.
Iona gave a condescending smile as she took the flower from the little girl’s hand.
However, as she grasped the rose, one of its thorns pricked her finger and she gave a shrill squeal and threw it away.
The little girl’s eyes filled with tears instantly, and she turned to run away, but Eliza picked up the discarded flower and raised it to her nose, smelling its lovely fragrance and closing her eyes in appreciation.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “These are beautiful.”
The little girl’s face lit up at once. “Are ye English, m’lady?” she asked curiously.
Eliza’s heart sank. “Yes,” she replied, expecting a frown.
“I was told Sassenachs were a’ bad,” the girl said. “But you are good.”
Then, with a little wave, she walked away, leaving Eliza feeling warm and grateful inside. Eliza stood up, carefully holding the roses in her hands to avoid any more accidents, and looked around her to see Duncan striding purposefully towards her.
He had not been close enough to hear what Eliza and the little girl were saying to each other, but he had seen Iona’s action and Eliza’s subsequent reaction, and he was enormously touched.
He stood amongst the villagers and called for silence, then said, “I would like to introduce you to my future bride, Lady Eliza Tewsbury. Please make her welcome.”
Everyone had heard about the Laird’s English fiancée, and there was a murmur amongst the crowd, but no one would dare say a word against her while he stood in front of them.
“May I go around and see the market?” Eliza asked him. “I can already see a few things that interest me.”
Duncan frowned, then smiled. “Of course,” he replied.
He had no idea why Eliza would need his permission. She began to walk towards the nearest stall, which stocked woollen goods, when Duncan spoke up again.
Handing Maisie a jingling pouch full of coins, he said, “Get my future lady whatever she wants.”
Maisie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded and took her place by Eliza’s side.
Duncan sighed as he watched Eliza leaving, wishing he could grab her and drag her back to his bedroom again.
He was now stuck with Iona’s tedious company, but it had to be borne.
He could not afford to offend the Drummonds, since they were far too powerful—especially at such treacherous times, with an unknown enemy in his midst. He would have to endure it, at least for a while.
He sat down at the table outside the tavern where Iona was sitting, nursing a glass of ale.
“You don’t normally drink ale,” Duncan remarked, surprised.
“It was either that or the water from the burn,” Iona replied in tones of deep disgust. “They do not sell any wine worth drinking.”
“Ale is fine for me.” Duncan strode to the bar and came back with a full glass. “Sláinte Mhath,” he said, raising his glass.
Iona’s lip curled. She hated speaking Gaelic and was not afraid to say so. “Good health,” she said, making a disgusted face as she sipped her drink. “This is foul.”
Duncan clenched his hands into fists under the table.
This is going to be even worse than I imagined, he thought.
He drank his ale while Iona drawled on about things that not only angered him, but bored him witless. Nothing satisfied her, and she did not have a good opinion about anything or anyone.
However, his ears pricked up when she asked, “Your Sassenach, are you really going to marry her?”
“Yes, you know I am,” he replied, frowning. Duncan could stand no more; he was unwilling to start an argument, so he swallowed the rest of his ale.
“Now, please excuse me, there is someone I must speak to.”
He did not give Iona the chance to answer, but marched away and disappeared into the marketplace, breathing a huge sigh of relief as he sought out Eliza and Maisie.
He made his way through the crowd until he came to the stall where bolts of brightly coloured fabric were being sold, and he saw Eliza and Maisie so engrossed in looking at one of them that neither noticed him at all.
He smiled and went to stand behind them, just close enough to hear their rather interesting conversation.
He knew nothing about fabric or thread or sewing, but it seemed that Eliza’s knowledge was encyclopaedic.
She was guiding Maisie through the different properties of wool, linen, cotton and silk, and Maisie looked fascinated.
“Now,” Eliza took hold of a length of linen and began to pull it between her hands in the same direction as the weave of the fabric. “You see what happens here? The material does not stretch.”
Maisie nodded. She looked fascinated.
“But if I do this,” Eliza pulled the material in a diagonal direction, “you see how it stretches? If we cut the fabric this way, it will hang differently, and we can use it to make things that we want to have a certain amount of ease in them. It’s called cutting it on the bias.”
Maisie looked at Eliza in amazement and admiration. “Ye know an awful lot about this, Milady,” she remarked. “Why dae ye love sewin’ sae much?”
Eliza laughed softly. “I have been sewing and knitting for as long as I can remember. My mother taught my sisters and me when we were very small. She died some years ago, and I still miss her, but when I work with my hands it feels as if she is still close to me. I sometimes imagine that she’s looking over my shoulder giving me advice. ”
Duncan felt a tightening in his chest as he realised that they had something in common; both had enjoyed a close rapport with their mothers and a distant or hostile one with their fathers. The realisation made him want to be even closer to Eliza in every way.
He could see now that the fierce, sharp-tongued woman that he had brought there as a means to an end was hiding a core of great gentleness, and for the first time something else occurred to him.
If she had had a good mother, could she become one herself?
He was almost stunned. The question of children had never occurred to him before.
Maisie sighed. “I wish my Mammy had been able tae dae that for me,” she said sadly.
“You might not have your Mammy,” Eliza said, smiling, “but you have me. First, we can make you a Sunday dress, then we can start on some clothes for the village children. Would you like that?”
Maisie’s face lit up in a beaming smile. “I would love that, Milady!”
“Good!” Eliza replied. “Now pick out some fabric in a colour you like, and we can get started.”
Maisie picked out a piece of plain blue woollen fabric and Eliza matched it with some thread, then they both walked away, smiling with satisfaction.
As soon as they were out of sight, Duncan went over to the stall and spoke to the stallholder, who was thrilled that the Laird was looking at her wares.
Duncan asked for her advice and picked out the items he wanted with great care. As he was leaving, he slipped a few coins into the woman’s hands, and she gazed at him, wide-eyed with gratitude and amazement, since he had given her a very generous tip.
“Thank ye, M’Laird,” she breathed, as she put the coin into the pouch on her belt. “You are sae good tae us.”
She was a small elderly woman, and Duncan knew that a few shillings would last her for weeks.
He smiled at her. “‘Tis only my duty,” he answered with a smile.