Chapter 22
“It’s my head,” Melody confessed. “It’s pounding. I can scarcely see straight.”
Kat tilted up Melody’s chin, peering into her eyes. She grunted and nodded, as if seeing something she’d intended to see.
“People underestimate how simple tiredness can create a terrible headache,” she acknowledged. “Have ye eaten today?”
“I couldn’t. I felt sick.”
“Well, ye must eat somethin’, and drink somethin’, too. I’ll make ye up a chamomile tea. That’ll help. I’ll put in powdered willow bark for the pain, but just a pinch.”
Melody gingerly lifted a hand to her aching head and watched Kat bustle around her room.
She hadn’t bothered to dress in any of her fine gowns to come here, choosing instead a plain gray one and braiding her hair into a simple plait.
The plait hung heavily over her shoulders, fixed with a simple linen ribbon.
She tugged nervously at the end of her plait, running the ends of the ribbon between her fingers.
Kat’s room smelled as sharp and savory as the healer’s chambers. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, and jars of paste and chopped leaves crowded every flat surface. There were books, too, on plants, medicine, and other subjects, all piled on a low desk by the window.
“I get those books from the keep library,” Kat explained, following Melody’s gaze.
“Callum is a great believer in learnin’.
He’s nae much of a book-reader himself, but he understands their importance, which is more than I’ve seen from some other lairds.
He doesnae believe that books and learnin’ should be kept only for lairds and ladies, either, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.
I can borrow whichever books I like, so long as I write the name and book in the borrowin’ ledger, and of course, bring it back in good condition. ”
“I haven’t even looked at the library,” Melody confessed. “I mostly read novels, I’m afraid.”
Kat picked up a heavy pestle and mortar, setting it down on the table. Moving over to her fireplace, where a good fire burned, she hooked a cauldron over the flames. Almost at once, water began to simmer inside it.
“Why are you sayin’ it like that?” Kat laughed, returning to her pestle and mortar.
She threw in a few pinches of dried herbs and a block of something gray and crumbling.
She set to work with the pestle, grinding efficiently until the substance in the mortar was reduced to a fine, shimmering powder.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Melody mumbled. “Back in London, it’s rather looked down upon to only like novels. They’re just stories.”
“What is wrong with stories?”
“Nothing is wrong, it’s just that ladies are supposed to read more improving literature.”
The water in the cauldron was bubbling now. Kat moved back over to the fire and scooped out a few ladlefuls, pouring them into a heavy earthenware mug. Returning to her pestle and mortar, she dumped the entire batch of ground herbs into the mug and stirred feverishly.
“When ye say ‘improvin’ literature’,” Kat observed. “I suppose that ye mean things like Latin and Mathematics, or those big old heavy history books?”
“Oh, no. A lady who reads things like that would be considered a bluestocking.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Why, certainly. At least, it’s considered to be. No, ladies are meant to read poetry, I think, and books on etiquette and morality, and so on.”
Kat paused in her stirring and stared, perplexed, at Melody.
“That sounds bloody borin’ to me,” she stated bluntly.
Melody gave a stifled gasp. “Kat! You can’t say… that word.”
“Why nae? It’s only ye and I here.”
“Well, it’s… it’s not seemly.”
“I daenae care about seemly. I think ye would be a good bit happier if ye did nae, either. Why this sudden interest in seemliness, whatever that is?”
Melody bit her lip, glancing away. Memories of last night crowded in once more.
That was to be expected. The way Callum had touched and kissed her—even kissed her there—would probably never quite leave her mind.
She had no doubt that half the ladies in London—likely more than half—had no idea such happiness and pleasure even existed.
On the other hand, they had probably never experienced the low, exquisite pain which had followed Callum’s rejection. And it was a rejection. Even in her own head, she could not interpret his dismissal any other way.
He does not care for me. Not truly. I… I do not know why he touched me in such a way, but he called it a mistake. He emphasized that it could not be repeated.
Perhaps he’ll send me away.
The idea of returning to London made her stomach twist.
“I don’t know why I’m so maudlin today,” Melody confessed at last. “I’m sorry, Kat.”
Kat threw her a long, curious look and said nothing. For a moment, silence hung between them.
Melody wished she hadn’t brought up the weighty subjects of morality. Or seemliness, as Kat had described them. When she had first arrived here, rapping on Kat’s door frightfully early in the morning, Kat had opened the door looking bright-eyed and flustered. Lucas stood behind her.
It took Melody a moment to understand what she was seeing.
Lucas had not come to her rooms early in the morning, as he’d explained.
No, it was almost certain he’d stayed the whole night, likely accompanying her there after they returned from the festival.
From what she knew of Kat and Lucas, it was likely that Kat had taken the initiative to invite him to her room.
Melody’s face turned crimson at the thought.
“It must be wonderful to have the freedom that you do,” she said, all in a rush. “And the courage and confidence to back it up. You do as you like, don’t you, Kat?”
“Is that a simple remark, or a censure?” Kat answered, glancing up from her vigorous stirring.
“It’s an envious observation.”
“Ah. In that case, aye, I am free in a way that many are nae. Daenae fret, I understand my own luck. Scottish women may, in general, live freer lives than some of their English counterparts, but not always. In the small village where I grew up, our village leader loathed women and made sure to keep us in our place. He made use of the branks wherever he could, even keeping stocks in the village square.”
“How appalling.”
Kat shrugged. “The man’s long gone. Callum put a stop to such barbarity, and our clan is a reasonable one.
But in many other places, a woman like me would be punished.
Punished for bein’ outspoken, punished for…
” she hesitated, glancing over at the bed with its rumpled sheets, half-hidden behind a curtain.
“For makin’ choices allowed freely to men, and certainly for practicing the art of healin’. ”
She punctuated her point by setting down the mug of herbal tea in front of Melody. The water still swirled furiously, but the herbs were now half-dissolved.
“Wait for it to settle, then sip it slowly,” Kat instructed. “I wager ye’ll nae have much of a headache by the end of it.”
“Thank you, Kat. You are very kind.”
“Ah, there’s nay kindness in it, nae really. I was born to be a healer, so really, I do all of this for myself,” she said, but with a smile. “I shouldnae worry about yer lack of sleep. It’s natural to be so shaken after such an event.”
Melody’s head came up. “What event?”
Can she know? Did she hear that I went to Callum’s tower, and drew conclusions from that? Is it possible?
Kat blinked at her, surprised. “I mean the drunkard who attacked ye.”
Melody deflated. “Oh. I’d already forgotten about him, in truth.
No, it wasn’t the memory of him that kept me up all night.
I was… I was thinking a good deal, and my mind could not settle.
I could not stop thinking of London and my old life.
I know that my sister has written to our father and informed him of my betrothal. ”
Kat glanced up, frowning. “Yer sister informed him? Did ye nae inform him yerself?”
Melody blushed, shaking her head. “No, I did not. I should have done, but I… I didn’t. He wanted me to marry somebody else, you see. I believe he’d already begun to make the arrangements.”
Kat grunted and shrugged. “Well, it’s yer life, nae his, eh?”
“That’s not how things are done in London. Or anywhere else, for that matter,” she added, after some reflection.”
“Hard to argue with that,” Kat acknowledged. “Drink yer tea.”
For a moment, they sat in silence. Melody sipped her tea—which was surprisingly delicious—and Kat sat by her side, fingers laced over her stomach, staring at the fire.
“This fellow ye were meant to marry in London,” she said at last. “Ye didnae like him, then?”
Melody shook her head. “I don’t believe he was a brute, or even particularly unkind, just…
just stern. I imagine he had a very particular idea of what his wife would be like and how she would behave.
I just know that I would have been a disappointment.
And then once I was married, of course I’d have to give up reading and painting, and start to… ”
“Wait a moment. Ye would have to give up doin’ the things ye love? Whatever for?”
Melody bit her lip. “Well, that’s simply the way things are.”
“What do ye mean?”
She shot a sideways glance at Kat. Surely she couldn’t misunderstand this.
“When a woman gets married,” Melody began carefully, “she becomes a wife, and soon will become a mother. In English society, she… she changes. Things like music, art, and reading are accomplishments, things for younger, unmarried women to engage in. It would be quite frowned upon for a married woman to come to a party and insist on playing the pianoforte for everybody, for example. Or displaying her paintings. She’s meant to step aside and let other women exhibit their accomplishments. ”
“What, all that to catch a man? How ridiculous. If I were to marry, I’d nae give up my work as a healer.”
“What, not even if you had children?”