Chapter 20
Rhea was at her wit’s end.
This was far from the first feast she had planned, and yet with the limited resources she had and with the number of people they expected to attend, it was one of the most difficult tasks she had ever had to complete.
Sienna was not in a much different state. The two of them were rushing around that morning, at the very minute the sun rose, scrambling to have everything prepared for their guests as they would begin to arrive later that day.
“At least they’ll bring gifts,” Sienna said as she directed the servants to place a large table against the side wall, where there was still space. “Perhaps we could have the cooks prepare some of it.”
“Aye, if they bring enough,” Rhea agreed as she stood in the middle of the Great Hall with her hands on her hips, overwhelmed by everything that still needed to be done. “Do ye think they will?”
“Callum returned from war,” Sienna reminded her. “If they daenae bring gifts now, when will they?”
She had a point. Callum had gone off to war so that he could secure a strong alliance with a wealthier clan. He was the one who had secured the gold. He was the one who had secured grain and food for them throughout the winter, and his sacrifice would keep them fed when they would need it again.
By the looks of it, they would need it again soon.
“But we cannae count on them to bring livestock and… and grain and stags,” Rhea argued. “Do we even have enough food for everyone?”
Sienna came to stand before her, looking right into her eyes.
For the first time, Rhea saw just how much she resembled her brother.
As if their shared looks weren’t enough, Sienna seemed to have the same intensity, the same no-nonsense air Callum did when he wanted to get a point across.
Rhea couldn’t help but wonder if it ran in the family.
“Listen to me,” Sienna said firmly. “Daenae fash. Everythin’ will be fine. We’ve been plannin’ this for weeks.”
“Barely,” Rhea pointed out. “Besides, ye cannae plan a feast for so many people in a few weeks! And then we have the cèilidh for Lughnasadh! How are we goin’ to manage that? We should have had one celebration for both!”
“Rhea!” Sienna all but shouted in her face, and for a brief moment, Rhea snapped out of it, though it was still difficult for her to draw in a full breath. “We will figure it out. Everyone will contribute. The guests will bring gifts.”
Rhea nodded, though she wasn’t entirely reassured. She had not been prepared for the challenges she would be facing once married into a poorer clan, one that had had all its wealth squandered by someone who wasn’t even around to fix it.
She could only imagine how Callum felt about it all. All his life, he had been trying to fix what his father had ruined instead of trying to grow the clan, to see his people prosper. If a simple feast could push her to her limits, then it was a wonder her husband only grunted as much as he did.
“Now, tell the servants what ye want them to do, and stop thinkin’ about Lughnasadh,” Sienna continued. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, focus on the feast and seeing it through.”
She had a point, of course. If Rhea couldn’t deal with the feast, then she certainly couldn’t deal with Lughnasadh, which would require more rigorous planning.
Of course, everyone knew what they had to do for Lughnasadh, since it was the same every year, but Rhea still needed to coordinate with the servants, the clansmen, the merchants.
Everything had to pass through her hands.
Everything was her responsibility. And though it wasn’t quite as important as war and strategy, it was still as important as diplomacy.
Nay, nae as important. It is diplomacy.
They spent the rest of the morning making the final arrangements and ensuring everything was ready. And then they went to Rhea’s room to get ready, only to find Mabel already there.
“Ach, here ye are!” Mabel chirped.
Much to Rhea’s surprise, her sister was already dressed in a fine light pink gown that made her pale skin look like porcelain.
Her hair had been pinned up into an intricate style, small pearls glinting among the strands and making them shimmer like gold.
Six maids were already in the room, standing back and admiring their handiwork.
“I was wonderin’ when ye’d come! I almost sent Lara to fetch ye.”
“It’s true, me Lady,” Lara said as she popped out from behind the screen, where she had been tidying the discarded garments. “And I should have come get ye; we barely have time to get ye both ready! Come now! Let us dress ye quickly, and then we can work on yer hair.”
“Ach, I daenae need ye to work on me hair.” Rhea waved a hand dismissively. “What will ye even do with it?”
She kept her hair shoulder-length because she couldn’t bother with it every single day, like most gently bred ladies did. She had much more important things to do, and today was no exception.
Lara gave her a determined look. “I willnae have anyone sayin’ that I’m nae servin’ me mistress well,” she said sternly.
Rhea couldn’t help but be reminded of her governesses when she was a child. Lara would make an excellent governess if she took the same attitude toward misbehaving children while remaining her usual, joyous self the rest of the time.
“Ye will sit in that chair, and ye will allow me to fix yer hair!”
She couldn’t refuse even if her life depended on it.
As the minutes ticked by, her chambers had never looked so crowded. Nine women occupied them now, though no one could fault a newcomer for thinking there was twice that number.
One maid knelt before the hearth, warming the pan that would smooth the last wrinkles from Rhea’s petticoat.
Another sat cross-legged on the rug, sorting ribbons into neat little piles according to color.
Two more had claimed the foot of the great bed, surrounded by stockings, gloves and shoes, holding each one up to the light as though preparing an exhibition instead of dressing their mistress.
The youngest maid, Elsie, who had joined the household scarcely three months ago, stood very still beside the wardrobe with Rhea’s gown draped over both arms. She looked terrified.
Many of the maids had that look about them, especially those who had only recently come to service, and it was usually because they had met Callum.
Rhea caught Elsie’s eye and smiled. “Ye daenae need to look as though ye’re preparin’ me execution.”
Elsie’s eyes widened. “I beg yer pardon, me Lady.”
“I’m merely jestin’,” Rhea assured her.
“Och.” Elsie seemed to consider. “Should I laugh?”
Rhea regarded her with a small, amused frown. “If ye wish.”
Elsie gave a single, uncertain laugh, or at least a sound that could pass for one, then resumed standing as rigidly as before. Rhea suspected the poor girl had not relaxed since entering service.
“Me Lady.” Lara appeared behind the chair, carrying brushes, combs, pins, and enough ribbons to decorate a small chapel. “Sit.”
“I am sittin’,” Rhea pointed out.
“Ye are half-sittin’.”
“That counts.”
“It doesnae.”
“I prefer it this way,” Rhea insisted. “Gives me a way to escape yer combs.”
“Precisely,” Lara said. “But ye’re nae goin’ anywhere until I’m done with ye.”
Rhea hesitated, not eager at all to have her hair styled.
The mere thought reminded her of all the times her governesses had insisted she needed to fix her hair, to let the maids pull and tug and brush until her scalp was tender.
But in the end, she sat properly, though with a sigh theatrical enough to earn her a snort from Sienna.
Sienna had occupied the window seat, one leg tucked comfortably under her while a maid fastened the tiny pearl buttons along the sleeves of her gown. She bore the entire affair with remarkable patience, though every now and then she reached down to steal an almond from the little bowl beside her.
“Ye’ve eaten nearly all of them,” Rhea remarked. “Pass me a few.”
“Ach, nae that many,” Sienna said as she tossed a single almond in the air for her to catch, only for it to fall on the floor between them.
“Sienna! There cannae be more than five left.”
“There were never many to begin with!”
“There were dozens!”
Sienna popped another almond into her mouth with no trace of shame. “There are fewer now.”
“Sometimes ye truly are like yer brother,” Rhea huffed. “Yer mother must have been a saint.”
“Be careful,” Sienna said with a teasing grin. “Our bloodline is strong. Yer bairns might come out like us more than like ye.”
Rhea hadn’t given the possibility of children much thought. With everything that had been happening, children had been the last thing on her mind. But now that Sienna had brought it up, it would not leave her mind.
Would she eventually have children? Callum had given her the one month she demanded, one month for them to get to know each other, and that month was quickly approaching its end. After that, it was only a matter of time before they produced an heir.
Before the wedding, she had dreaded the thought of having a child with Callum—a stranger, a man who seemed more frightening than any other she had met before.
And while he was gone, the thought hadn’t even occurred to her at all, busy as she had been with Sienna and the clan.
But now the thought warmed something in her chest. Now she thought about the possibility of an heir with fondness rather than fear.
But that, too, frightened her. Callum had stayed with her. He had done as she had asked. But there was no telling when he would change his mind and go after Laird Barclay.
In any case, she wouldn’t be opposed to her child being like Callum.
“Ach, that wouldnae be so bad now, would it?” she quipped.
Sienna’s smile was answer enough.