Chapter 4

4

E dina did indeed see Lewis at their evening meal, but he spent all his time conversing with his father about business matters, while the rest of the company talked amongst themselves.

Her mother and Lady Findlay had recently ordered some top quality imported satin and velvet from a travelling cloth merchant and were discussing what they would make with them. They were planning a trip to Dundee in the near future in the hope of gleaning some idea of the latest fashions. They both complained that Achnabreck was so far away from civilisation that it might as well be on the moon!

Edina had absolutely no interest in fashion. She owned half a dozen plain day dresses, a riding habit and two ball gowns, and was her mother's despair. Bettina had told her daughter over and over again that she would never find a husband if she did not make herself presentable enough to attend the best social functions in the area.

"You know that there are many other eligible young ladies in this area?" she reminded her daughter. "And every one of them has a far better wardrobe than you do!"

"Mother, if the young swains cannot take me as they find me, then they must be rather lacking in character," she had replied wearily, having had the same lecture a hundred times before. "Any man worth his salt is not going to judge me on how many dresses I own, or what I look like, and I am not going to choose him based on the quality of his wine cellar or the horse he rides."

Edina's attention was taken away from her thoughts as she heard her name mentioned, but she groaned inwardly as she realised that Bettina had resumed her assault.

"Edina," her mother said, smiling brightly at her daughter. "There is a ceilidh at Laird McPhail's estate in a few weeks, and I have arranged for the seamstress to come and see you. You need more dresses, and do not argue with me. This time you will do as I say."

Edina cast her eyes heavenwards and nodded. She loved her mother, and sometimes it was just easier to give into her whims. After all, she would have to have a new dress sooner or later. She wiped her lips with her napkin and reached over for the wine carafe at the same moment as Lewis.

Their fingertips met, and Edina felt a shiver going up her arm, all the way to her shoulder. She was about to let go of the carafe, but Lewis did so first, and to her surprise he gave her an almost imperceptible nod and a faint smile.

"Thank you," Edina murmured as she poured a glass of wine for herself.

Afterwards, she reached across the table and poured another for Lewis, who thanked her politely with another smile, raised his glass to her briefly, and went back to his food.

Edina felt that a bridge had been crossed. Lewis had never initiated any kind of contact with her before; he had always spoken to her at the urging of someone else, or in the middle of a conversation with others. She was making progress, she thought, even if it was by inches at a time.

She was about to ask him if he played chess, even though she already knew that he did. She could challenge him to a match, and had almost opened her mouth to do so when her mother shook her elbow.

"Edina, about your dress," she began, a smile lighting up her face. "I think a deep pink would be a good choice."

A long sigh escaped Edina as she turned to her and became embroiled in a tedious discussion about the merits of one style of dress over another. When she finally extricated herself from the conversation, she turned around to find that Lewis had quietly disappeared, and felt a plunging sense of disappointment.

There was still a little daylight left in the sky, so she made her way onto the first tier of the battlements while she could still see. She knew that Lewis sometimes went upstairs to talk to the Captain of the Guard. Even though Jamie Turner was so much older than Lewis, they had a close bond akin to that of a grandfather and grandson.

However, as she made her way to the stairs, Edina saw the Captain standing talking to some of his men, so he was not on the turrets, and Lewis was not amongst them. Still, she needed fresh air, so she ascended to the first level and walked around a little way till she could see the whole valley spread out below her.

The village was only a quarter-of-a-mile away, but at this time of year the villagers were beginning to retire earlier, since the harvest could only take place in the daylight. Now the long slow descent into winter darkness would begin, and tasks like mending equipment and preserving meat and vegetables would take place. There was always some work to be done on the farms.

However, there was only a crescent moon in the sky, and Edina could see little, so she decided to walk around the tower and go back downstairs. She had only taken a couple of paces forward before she stopped abruptly. In the last of the light she could see Lewis standing looking through one of the crenellations of the wall. He was making no sound, but Edina could see the glimmer of a tear streaming down his cheek without him making any attempt to wipe it away.

A surge of pity welled up inside Edina. Something dreadful must have happened to upset a strong, stoic man like him so much. He seemed lonely and lost. Then it came to her; did he miss his brother? Could it be that Aidan's departure had hurt Lewis to an almost unbearable extent? The two brothers had been very close. It must have been like losing a part of himself; she could not begin to imagine how bad that felt.

Edina's first instinct was to run to Lewis and wrap her arms around him, but she stopped herself just in time. A man like him would not appreciate such a gesture, even if it were done with the best of motives. No, it was best to do nothing and leave him to grieve on his own. She was about to turn back, but in doing so, her hand brushed against the rough stone of the parapet with a painful scratch. Edina gave a little gasp, and almost before she could move, Lewis whipped around and saw her. His eyes widened for a second before he dashed away his tears, then pushed past her and disappeared down the stairs.

Edina froze for a moment. What have I done? she thought. Edina, you are such a fool. How are you going to be able to face him again after this?

Edina braced herself, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders before she walked into the dining room that morning. If she had to face Lewis, she would do it with a smile and give him no indication that she had even seen him vulnerable. After all, it had been almost dark, and the only way she had noticed his tears was by their faint glitter.

When the doors were opened, however, she saw that she had no reason to worry, and she gave a sigh of relief when she saw that Lewis's chair was empty. Then she felt a leap of alarm.

"Is Lewis not joining us, Milady?" she asked, frowning.

Lady Eleanor smiled sadly. "Sometimes he just takes it into his head to go out with the guards," she replied. "He is a young, healthy man with a lot of pent-up energy, so he will have taken his breakfast with the men and gone out straight afterwards."

The Laird smiled at her. "I think ladies are too civilised to appreciate how rough and ready we men are," he told her. "You may appreciate fine lace, perfume and jewellery, while we prefer good whisky, horses and similar things. Lewis will inherit the estate one day, and then he will have plenty of responsibilities and duties; he needs to enjoy a little freedom while he still can."

"Of course." Edina smiled, although the expression was forced.

The Laird was too well-mannered to point out the other things young men liked to do, but she was intelligent enough to know what those were. She changed the subject suddenly.

"Well, I want to make a start on my schooling of the village children today, Father. I need you to help me with furniture for the classrooms. Mother, Milady, when I come back, I will discuss the material they need for new clothes. Oh, and writing materials."

She looked around her to see that the others were looking rather stunned.

"Is that all?" Lady Findlay asked, looking somewhat surprised.

"If I think of anything else, I will let you know, Milady," Edina replied firmly.

"Yes, Mistress," her father said drily, wondering what had just happened.

Edina had no writing materials for the children yet, so she decided to start by reading them stories to give them an appetite for it. She had been taught by well-qualified tutors, and she had been around books since she could walk, whereas these children had never had any such advantage.

Since she had no training in the profession, Edina realised that she would have to teach by feeling her way, almost by instinct; she only hoped she was up to the task.

The children were assembled in the church hall. They were aged between five and eight years old. When they were older than that, they would begin to help their families around the farm and at home—if they had one.

Edina had always found it shocking that children of nine years old and upwards should be required to plant seeds and help bring in the harvest. If by giving them an education she could give them a better life, she was determined to do so.

She cleared her throat, feeling the flutter of nerves in her stomach, then smiled around the little faces. "My name is Edina," she announced. "And now I would like to know yours."

An eager chorus answered at once, with everyone striving to be heard above everyone else, but eventually, they resolved themselves into individual faces and voices, then Edina was able to identify each.

"Now," she said, looking around at them, "I am going to read you a story, and after, we can talk to each other. I will ask about you, and you can ask about me."

Edina was answered by nods and smiles, so she opened the book she had brought and began to read. The story involved talking animals, and since most of the children were from farming backgrounds, they found the idea of pigs and sheep having conversations with each other absolutely hilarious. When Edina had finished reading and closed the book, they immediately begged for another story, but she laughed.

"I will be back the day after tomorrow," she told them. "And I will be bringing things to write with because I am going to teach you all to read."

"Mammy said you live in the castle," one little girl of about seven years old asked her.

"I do," Edina replied, nodding.

"Is it nice?" she asked again. "Dae ye have gold an' silver vases o' flowers, Mistress?"

"Only when we have parties," Edina answered. "But those do not happen very often, and we only have a few."

"Dae ye know the Laird's son, Mistress?" another girl asked, with a mischievous grin.

"Yes, I do," Edina answered.

"Dae ye think he is handsome?" one of the boys asked. "Because my big sister is in love wi' him. She never stops talkin' about him. Are you in love wi' him, Mistress?"

Edina had not realised she was blushing. "He is just like a brother to me," she answered with a mischievous smile.

The children began to laugh.

"Aye, ye are!" the boy cried, pointing at her.

"Oh, all right!" Edina conceded, laughing. "I have been madly in love with him, since I was a wee lass. But do not tell anyone."

She put a finger in front of her mouth to signal for silence, and they all giggled. Let them think it was merely a silly crush. She was not even sure how she felt about Lewis yet, so she could not share her deepest feelings with anyone else, let alone a crowd of children.

"I knew him and his brother when he was just a little boy, the same age as you are," she told them. "We used to play together. Once I climbed a tree and fell down on top of his brother and Lewis had to pick us both up. He was very angry. Another time they both pushed me into the waters of the loch and I had to walk home dripping wet. Do you know what happened to them?"

The children shook their heads.

"They had to stay in their bedrooms for two days and were not allowed to go anywhere." Edina assumed an expression of mock-righteousness.

"Serves them right!" said one of the girls.

This prompted a chorus of agreement, and before long Edina was telling stories of her girlhood that had all the children in giggles. They simply could not imagine a big, strong man like Lewis Findlay as a little boy. To them, adults were adults, and always had been.

Edina thoroughly enjoyed the company of the children, and it was with some regret that she stood up to go, but she was gratified to see that the feeling was mutual. She almost had to fight her way out, and they all looked so sad to see her go that she almost turned back.

However, as she began to walk down the street with two guards at her side towards her horse, the old lady who had mistaken Lewis for Aidan crossed her path. Edina smiled at her, and she returned it.

"Hello, Mistress," she said politely. "Fine day."

"Indeed," Edina agreed. "I hope it stays this way."

"I wanted tae apologise for startling ye the other day," she said, frowning. "They are that like each other, an' I was surprised because I hadnae heard Aidan was back."

"It was an honest mistake," Edina told her. "And Lewis tells me it happens quite a lot. Do not worry, he is not offended. What is your name? I am Edina."

"I know your name, Mistress," the woman told her. "We a' dae. My name is Nan."

The woman fell into step beside Edina and started talking quietly, pleading with Edina to keep the conversation between them.

"Master Lewis doesnae come intae the village much any more," she confided. "I think it has somethin' tae dae wi' that brother o' his."

"You sound as if you don't like Aidan very much." Edina frowned. "Why not? You can tell me, I will not be angry."

Nan gave an angry sigh. "They both were such nice boys till they got tae about sixteen or seventeen," she went on, shaking her head. "Then, the drink took them. He and Lewis spent too much o' their time in the tavern there. Then, Aidan would fight wi' some o' the village boys nearly every night. Sorry, mistress."

Edina was shocked. This was not what she had expected to hear at all. "No, tell me more," she said quietly.

"Lewis wasnae around for a couple o' months," Nan went on. "An' then, we heard that Aidan was sent to the seas, and we were a' very glad about it. I'm sure he was the bad influence because when Master Lewis appeared again, he was a better man!"

Edina was speechless for a moment. "That is very sad," she said at last.

Poor boys. How cruel to separate them that way. What had happened to make the Laird make such a decision? She remembered that Lewis had refused to enter the Fatted Calf. Perhaps there were horrible memories in the place.

"Funny, though," Nan went on, frowning. "A lot o' the staff left then as well. The Laird gave the younger ones parcels o' land an' pensioned the older ones off. Only a few o' them stayed."

"No doubt he had his reasons," Edina remarked, although she too thought it sounded extremely strange.

She made a mental note to go inside the Fatted Calf with her guards next time she entered the village. Perhaps she could find some more information in there.

The conversation with Nan went on for a few more moments about other, more mundane subjects before Edina rode home, more puzzled than ever.