Chapter 15 #2
“Forgive me, lassie, for this intrusion,” the woman wheezed in a gruff voice. “Could ye spare a cup of hot tea and a slice of bread for a weary traveler?”
Madeleine hesitated only an instant. She drew open the door, studying her unexpected visitor in the flood of light. “Aye, of course,” she said graciously. “Come in.”
From what little Madeleine could see of the woman’s face, she had never seen her before, and she doubted her visitor was from the valley.
If she was a fugitive, Maddie had never seen a more unlikely one.
Yet she could not deny this woman her hospitality.
It was an unwritten code among the Highlanders that strangers were always made welcome. Except for redcoats, she amended dryly.
“Thank ye,” the woman said, glancing furtively over her shoulder before entering the kitchen. As Madeleine closed the door behind her, she shuffled to the table and immediately sat down, heaving a loud groan of relief. The chair creaked ominously under the woman’s weight.
Madeleine stifled her reaction, but she could not help noticing her visitor was amazingly stout, her hunched shoulders broad and rounded beneath a threadbare shawl.
The woman was wearing a gray fustian gown that seemed to lack a clear waistline, appearing almost sacklike in its loose proportion.
From beneath the ragged hem peeked dusty black boots, the largest pair Madeleine had ever seen on anyone, let alone a woman.
Madeleine chided herself for staring and quickly fetched a steaming mug of tea. She cut a thick slice of fresh-baked bread and slathered it with butter, then set the plate in front of the old woman.
“Is there anything else ye’d like?” she asked. She nodded toward the black kettle hanging above the hearth. “My cook, Glenis, always has a good pot of stew at the ready.”
“Aye, ‘twould be lovely,” the woman said between slurps of tea, without lifting her head.
Madeleine brought a brimming bowl to the table along with more bread.
She refilled the woman’s mug, not surprised to see her hungrily devour the stew, soaking up every last drop with the bread crusts.
Madeleine was beginning to believe this woman was indeed a fugitive.
It was clear she hadn’t eaten a good meal in days.
After three bowls of stew, a pot of tea, and nearly a loaf of bread, the woman’s ravenous appetite was sated. She pushed back from the table and raised her head ever so slightly.
“Sit with me, lass, for a wee bit,” she croaked in a husky tone that was more a command than a request.
Madeleine sat down across the table, eyeing the old woman’s broad features in the candlelight. A bulbous nose, massive jowls, a fat double chin. She had the strangest feeling she had seen her somewhere before.
“Ye recognize me, dinna ye, Maddie Fraser?”
Madeleine gasped at the decidedly male voice, her eyes widening in surprise. “God’s wounds, could it be?”
Low, rumbling laughter erupted from her visitor at her astonished statement, a distinctive chuckle Madeleine had not heard in more than a year.
Not since the red grouse hunt early last summer.
Her father had hosted the event for his tacksmen and his guest of honor, Lord Lovat, the chief of Clan Fraser.
She leaned forward in her chair, staring incredulously at the grinning old man. It was Simon Fraser himself, a hunted fugitive since Culloden, disguised as a woman. And the place was swarming with redcoats!
What could Lord Lovat be thinking? Didn’t he realize his danger? Hadn’t he seen the guards posted along the drive? Hadn’t he seen the soldiers through the windows, bunked in the dancing room and the guest rooms? She tried to speak, but her throat was constricted so tightly no words came.
“Calm yerself, lassie,” Simon Fraser said softly, sobering at her obvious distress.
“I’ve seen the redcoats, if that’s what ye’re wondering.
And they dinna see me. If they had, they wouldna care two whits about an old woman calling at the house.
I’m not worried, nor should ye be. Believe me, there’s fewer redcoats in Mhor Manor than out on the roads tonight scouring the mountains. ‘Tis safer by far.”
When she continued to gape at him, he sighed and patted her hand.
“‘Tis why I’m here, Maddie. I long for nothing more than a good night’s rest in a warm bed.
Ye’ve already seen to the fine meal. My old bones grow weary from this chase.
‘Tis mad I suppose, but the lights in yer house looked so inviting from Beinn Bhuidhe, despite yer English guests. I couldna help m’self. ”
“Ye’ve been hiding on Beinn Bhuidhe?” Madeleine asked, finding her voice at last.
“Aye, for a week now. I was in Badenoch for quite a while, staying here and there, and before that Glen Cannich to the north…” His voice trailed off, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.
“Och, Maddie, ‘tis a long story, and I’ve no heart for it tonight. ‘Tis my plan to set out for the west Highlands before dawn. Loch Morar. I’ve friends there who’ll help me. ‘Tis my hope to find a ship to France.”
“France?”
“Aye. ‘Tis the safest plan. My lands are lost to me, my castle burned to the ground. I canna hide there. And my kinsmen risk much to shelter me, even disguised as I am.” He forced a weak smile.
“I know ‘tis a dangerous thing to ask ye, Maddie, but if I could stay here only one night, I’ll be off before the sun rises in the morn—”
“Of course ye must stay!” Madeleine whispered vehemently. “Dinna think to ask me again, m’lord. I’d be insulted if ye did. The chief of Clan Fraser is always welcome in my home, redcoats or no. I’m honored ye chose to entrust me with yer care.”
“Ye’re a brave lass, Maddie, and I thank ye. Ye do the memory of yer father proud, God rest him.”
Madeleine felt a sudden lump in her throat, but she forced herself to think of the task at hand. She rose and swiftly cleared the table. The sooner Lord Lovat was settled somewhere in the house, away from prying eyes, the better. But where?