Chapter Five Pulling At Threads
Chapter Five
Pulling At Threads
The next morning came, and pale light pushed into the laird’s chambers. Alice blinked awake, groggy. Her eyes were bleary as she tried to take in her surroundings, and the events of the night before came back to her. The wedding. The dancing. His smile. The kiss. Then…
Her eyes tried to focus. His soft, dark shape next to her was moving softly, still deep asleep in the morning light.
She reached over. She blinked again hard.
Evander was not next to her. What she had thought had been his body had been a mixture of the bedding and shadows cast from the stone walls.
Her eyes watered, and she told herself it was because of the ash in the fire.
She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.
The whole room had been suffused with his scent.
What had she really expected last night? That he would see her and immediately take her to bed? That they would spend their night in passionate embrace?
Her cheeks reddened as she thought of that, and she tried to push the thought away, but it was hard when the thought was of her own husband, a man she should have every right to think of like that.
It did not feel that way in the moment. Instead, it felt as if thinking like that was some kind of a slight against him, against the space he seemed intent on building between them.
She shook her head and sat up. No. This was not the time to be thinking of such things.
As if the world was giving her a reprieve from her own thoughts, a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Alice said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
A handmaiden stepped into the room, smiling widely. The maid had long, braided, auburn hair, a bright smile, and green eyes.
“My lady,” the maid said. “My name is Molly. The laird has sent me to make sure you are awake and well.”
“I am,” Alice said sleepily. “Is the laird often away early in the mornings?”
“Oh yes,” Molly nodded. “He is often awake before the birds are.”
“I see,” Alice nodded. The disappointment in her heart continued to grow. She had at least wanted to see him in the morning.
“Is there anything you need?” Molly asked sweetly.
“Could you brush my hair?” Alice asked. The handmaid nodded, taking a brush from the side table and walking toward the bed. Alice moved to the end of the bed, turning her back to Molly.
“Did you at least sleep well, my lady?” Molly asked.
“I did,” Alice said, the half-truth slipping out more easily than she would have liked to admit.
“I am glad,” Molly said, and Alice could hear the maid trying to suppress a giggle. “We were worried you would be exhausted after your first night.”
Alice felt the tips of her ears prickling with heat.
“What do you mean we?” she managed to squeak out.
“Ah, I apologize,” Molly said. “We as in myself and the other maids.”
“I see,” Alice mumbled.
“We meant nae disrespect,” Molly said, pausing her brushing.
“I do not feel disrespected,” Alice said softly. “I am just… flustered.”
“That is understandable, my lady,” Molly said, resuming the brushing. “I just hope you do not mind us maids talking. Some of us can be right gossips, but we mean nae harm. ‘Tis just a way to pass the time.”
“I understand,” Alice sighed. “The maids at my parents’ estate could be much the same,” she added. “I just… may not wish to hear about such things.”
“Understood,” Molly said brightly. “I will make sure tae nae speak of such things around you again.”
“Thank you, Molly,” Alice said warmly.
“Ye are most welcome,” Molly chuckled. “But, if I may be so bold… Can I ask a question?”
Alice hesitated, letting the feeling of the brush in her hair ground her for a few brief moments, before she spoke again.
“Only if I get to ask one in return,” she said.
“That is more than fair,” Molly said. “What I wanted to ask was—” There was a dramatic pause, and Alice could practically feel Molly grinning behind her. “What was he like? The laird, I mean. What do you think of him?”
Alice sat quietly for a moment. Her brows furrowed as she tried to explain the confusing mix of emotions that were swirling away inside of her. She caught her expression.
How unladylike…
She took a breath, allowing her expression to smooth and her brows to return to their normal place.
“He confuses me greatly,” Alice said.
“Confuses ye how?” Molly asked. Alice hesitated for a moment. She did not know if the maid would be offended by the things she had to say about the Laird. “You do not have to worry. Anything you say to me is just between us. I will not speak about it.”
“He… He is nice in one moment, and then in another moment he seems to wish to push me away,” Alice murmured softly.
“That does, indeed, sound like the laird,” Molly said gently.
“What do you think of him?” Alice asked. Molly kept brushing her hair, but she could feel some kind of tension in the maid’s hands. “I also will not speak about it.”
That made Molly laugh.
“I see, I see,” Molly said warmly. “Laird Evander is warm, when he wishes to be. He is stern, but it is for the good of the clan and the rest of his people. He is also somewhat reserved. He seems to prefer his time to be spent in solitude.”
“That is good…” Alice whispered. That troubled her more than she cared to admit. “Are you, ah… Are you married Molly?”
“I thought we were only asking one question of each other,” Molly teased. “But, aye, I am. The cook is my husband.”
“Really?”
“Aye,” Molly said warmly. “And I believe I understand why you are asking.”
“You do?” Alice asked nervously.
“I do,” Molly said. “Ye are asking because of the events of last night. Please do not worry, my lady. A woman’s first time is rarely pleasant. It does get better after the first night, I promise.”
“Ah… Thank… You…” Alice whispered. That was not the reason she was worried, after all, the laird had not lain with her.
Her mind started to spin again. Perhaps it was because she was English.
Perhaps there was something that was wrong with her, or she had done something that had displeased the laird.
Even then, perhaps she should be glad he did not look at her with disgust or hurt her.
If Leopold’s words from the ride over were to be believed…
She felt her shoulders rounding and shrinking in on herself.
Molly’s brush snagged a tangle and it brought Alice back to her senses.
“Ah, my lady, I am so sorry!” Molly cried out.
“Please, do not worry,” Alice said with an awkward laugh. “It happens. I am fine.”
“But—” Molly started.
“Do not worry,” Alice repeated. “I will not tell others what happened.”
“...Thank you,” Molly said with a relieved laugh. “Let me finish brushing yer hair now.”
“Thank you,” Alice said warmly. “Can I… Can I ask one more question?”
“Of course, my lady,,” Molly said softly.
“I was informed that the laird once had a brother. Is that true?” Alice asked.
The room seemed to freeze. Molly’s hand stopped moving.
“Molly?”
“I have finished brushing yer hair,” Molly said with a smile.
“But—”
“I am sorry, I believe that I am needed to assist with other preparations, my lady,” Molly said, stepping back.
“You did not answer my question,” Alice said, turning to face the maid. Her eyes widened. The previously forthcoming maid was looking around the room, her eyes wide with fear.
“I am sorry, we can speak another time,” Molly said before quickly racing out of the room. Alice was left in stunned and confused silence.
She stayed there for a few more moments before standing up and going to find her dress for the day. Molly had been in such a rush to avoid answering her question that she had left her to dress by herself.
“I shall have to ask someone else it would seem,” Alice whispered to herself as she adjusted the dark red dress around her. Her mind drifted back to England. Specifically, to a time when she had been sat with her mother in the parlor of their estate, when she was a child, learning to embroider.
“If you pull too hard on a thread,” her mother had said. “Then you can either detach the thread, or you can pull the whole piece apart. Sometimes it is best to leave the threads alone.”
Alice had never been good at leaving threads alone, though.
Her fingers instinctively reached down toward the edge of the bedding, her fingers running over the woven threads until one felt slack.
She started to turn and twist it. The loose thread sprang up into her fingers and she sat there, rolling it, her mind now able to settle once her fingers had the right kind of distraction.
She began replaying more of the journey up here and the day before through her mind.
Leopold’s insistence that the laird would not be kind or soft.
Evander’s subtle protection.
The way he looked at her when they danced.
The lies she had already picked up.
She may be a young woman, but it did not take much for anyone to see that there was something being hidden here.
Like paint on a wooden ceiling, hiding the woodgrain.
She could not see exactly what was being hidden, but eventually she would be able to make out what it should have been.
She bit the inside of her cheek slightly.
If it is being covered over, though, surely that is a sign that I should not be investigating it?
As much as she wanted to be like a little hound and chase a lead to its end, something in her knew that there were always reasons things became secrets.
I want to understand him. I should not bother him. But…
Her fingers pulled on the thread and she felt it go taut. She glanced down. If she pulled it anymore, the whole sheet could be damaged. She crinkled her nose and began to smooth the sheet, pulling the other threads to hide what she had done.
Threads can be pulled and unpulled…
She stood up and stretched, trying to push down the thoughts her racing mind was insisting on creating. She had no idea what she would find if she kept pulling on strings here. She could not have known what she was walking into.
But Alice Crimmons was a soft but stubborn thing.