Chapter Nine

Finn stared incredulously up at the window. It was the first time he'd ever slept in a real bed and the only time he could ever remember waking up past dawn. Sitting up, he looked down at his clean nightshirt, then he held his hands in front of his face, spread his fingers and marvelled. Not one spec of dirt. If he was being honest, looking at them actually made him feel a bit uncomfortable – as though they weren't really his.

A tantalising smell suddenly invaded his nostrils. Putting his hands down, he leaned forward and peered at the only other piece of furniture in the room – an old trunk positioned at the end of the bed. On top of it was a hunk of bread and even a piece of cheese. It was the bread he'd smelled and the freshness of it made his mouth water.

Had they been put there for him? Climbing out of bed, he padded to the bottom and gaped at the feast in front of him. This would have been shared between ten of them. Oh not the cheese, just the bread. And it'd be so stale they'd have to dip it in water just so they could swallow it.

Reverently he put out his hand, picked up the cheese and sniffed it. He felt like weeping. Did he dare take a bite? What if it wasn't for him? Before he could decide what to do, the door abruptly opened. With a terrified gasp, he threw the cheese back onto the plate, only to watch in horror as it bounced off and landed straight at the feet of the person who'd entered the room.

Wordlessly he stared at the young woman standing in the doorway. ‘Did ye nae want it?' she asked picking up the piece of cheese and wiping it on her apron. Finn stared mutely at her. ‘It be fer ye,' she added encouragingly, holding the wedge out towards him. After a second's hesitation, Finn snatched it from her hand and took a huge bite, almost groaning at the harshly sweet taste flooding his mouth.

‘An' the bread,' the girl added helpfully. ‘Ah'm Morag, head housemaid. Mrs Darroch said ah was tae fetch ye tae the kitchen whan ye'd finisht.' Finn obligingly picked up the hunk of bread and shoved it whole into his mouth.

‘Och, Mrs. Darroch willnae be happy wi' such terrible manners' Morag sniffed as she watched him swallow the last of the cheese. They looked at each other in silence for a second, then the maid sighed. ‘Ye cannae gae wi'oot yer claes,' she scoffed pointing to a small pile on the floor next to the trunk. Finn made to lift up his nightshirt, as Morag hurriedly turned away. ‘Have ye nae shame? Ah'll be waitin outside the door. Be sure tae bring yer empty plate.'

Regarding her bemusedly, Finn, shrugged off the nightshirt and replaced it with the britches and a coarse linen shirt that itched like the blazes. There was even a pair of shoes. Hurriedly he pushed his feet into them and sighed. They were too big, but even so, his feet had never felt so blessedly warm. He was just about to open the door, when he looked back at the bed. After a second, he went back to straighten the blanket. If he proved his worth, he might even get to sleep in it for a second night.

‘Are ye meeting the Queen o' England or somethin'?' came Morag's aggravated voice. ‘Ah haenae all day tae be waitin' on ye.' Seconds later, she jumped as the door was thrown open. Finn grinned as she tut-tutted and led the way down a steep winding set of stairs.

‘The Maister'll be wantin' tae speak wi' ye this day, so be canny,' she told him as they entered a long narrow passageway leading to the kitchen.

‘Whitfor?' Finn asked, alarm replacing his earlier euphoria.

‘Dae ye think he'll nae be askin' what ye was daein hidin' in that wee boat?'

Finn fell back slightly. What would they want to know? He thought back to the day before. The lady had been kind, but the big maister had asked him questions – at least until he'd fallen asleep when the muckleheid picked him up and carried him.

Did he dare tell them about the mine? The MacFarlane had told them to keep their mouths shut lest he cut out their tongues. And Finn well knew it was no idle threat.

But if he told the truth, these people might let him stay. He'd do whatever they asked and he'd be more than happy to sleep in the kitchen or the stables. Instinctively he recognised that this family was somehow different. The lady had been kind. And he couldn't remember the last time anyone had shown him any care – least not without a skelpin' to follow.

Swallowing anxiously, he followed the maid into the cavernous kitchen.

∞∞∞

Jennifer woke to the sun streaming in through the window. Sleepily, she watched Jenet pull back the drapes. ‘It be a braw day, ma lady,' the maid enthused, plumping up the pillows behind Jennifer's head. Delighted to see the sun after the day before, Jennifer luxuriated in the rays shining directly through the window onto the bed.

‘How is the boy Mr. Galbraith brought back with him yesterday?' she asked, accepting the dish of hot chocolate.

‘His name be Finn,' Jenet confided, picking out Jennifer's clothes for the day. ‘Mrs. Darroch is tae bring the lad tae his lordship at ten.' She shut the wardrobe door, adding, ‘His lordship askt if yer be wantin' ter speak wi' him yerself, ye've tae be quick.'

‘Of course I wish to speak with him,' Jennifer answered, putting the chocolate aside and climbing out of bed. ‘Will Mr. Galbraith be present, do you know?' She asked the question casually, ignoring the fluttering inside her breast at the thought of seeing the handsome Scot again.

‘The Galbraith hae bin here since day-daw,' Jenet confided. ‘He be verra handsome, ma lady. Ah ken he's the talk o' the steamy.' She gave a giggle and shook her head.

‘The steamy?' Jennifer questioned, pulling her nightgown over her head.

‘The wash-house,' Jenet clarified. ‘Between me an' ye, ma lady, ah reckon more an' one o' the maids be sweet on him.'

‘But not you?' Jennifer couldn't help asking as Jenet helped put on her petticoat.

‘A braw man like himself be nae fer the likes o' me, ma lady. Ah'd allwis be wonderin' whose bed he be climbin' oota come morn.'

The maid's words brought a sudden blush to Jennifer's cheeks as they unexpectedly conjured up the vision of Brendon Galbraith climbing naked out of the same bed she'd just vacated. Gritting her teeth, she willed the ridiculous flush to fade, while wordlessly holding up her arms as an emerald-green morning dress was slipped over her head. Fortunately, Jenet didn't appear to notice her mistress's sudden reticence and continued chatting nineteen to the dozen until a mere ten minutes later when Jennifer was coiffured and ready to start the day.

Estimating the time to be about nine thirty, Jennifer decided she had enough time to avail herself of breakfast before they questioned this Finn. Deep in thought, she entered the breakfast room and didn't immediately notice that there was somebody already seated at the table. She almost felt as though the maid's words had conjured up Brendon Galbraith in the flesh, and as he rose to his feet, Jennifer felt a sudden perplexing sensation deep in her core that had her heart galloping uncontrollably.

‘Guid mornin, ma lady,' he greeted. Had his voice been so deep yesterday? What the devil was wrong with her that even the sound of his voice set her squirming. ‘Ah trust ye slept well.'

Dear God, he might as well have asked if she'd enjoyed his kiss. Face flaming, she fought the urge to slap herself. This most definitely couldn't go on. Nodding briskly, she turned towards the sideboard and took her time piling up her plate, in the hope he'd be gone by the time she took it to the table.

Unfortunately, it seemed the steward had no intention of leaving, and at length, she was forced to turn around and join him.

‘Have you brought … Fergus with you this morning?' she asked for want of something to say.

‘Aye,' he answered. ‘The beast will nae be apart frae me fer long.'

Against her will, Jennifer found herself intrigued. ‘Have you had him long?' she asked.

‘Since he was whelpt,' Brendon answered, the fondness clear in his voice. ‘Would hae deid otherwise.'

‘He looks very fierce,' Jennifer retorted, ‘though clearly Flossy wasn't afraid of him.'

‘He's a big bairn,' Brendon answered with a chuckle. ‘Right now he's ootside in the courtyard wi' Finn.'

‘He won't run away?' Jennifer asked anxiously, half rising out of her chair.

‘The dog or the boy?' Brendon asked with a devastating smile. She stared at him wordlessly. ‘Ma guess is nane o the twa. Ah reckon they both like their stomach too much.' Jennifer found herself smiling back, and for the slightest second, everything aside from the two of them disappeared.

‘Flossy!If you're cavorting with that damned Casanova again, you'll spend the rest of the day in the deuced stables.'

Her grandfather's booming voice interrupted the fleeting moment and both she and Brendon turned to watch the Reverend stomp past the window. ‘Thunder an' turf, Flo, you're nought but a deuced lightskirt.' The Reverend yelled his oft repeated admonishment as he tried to grab hold of the little dog while she continued to caper round the wolfhound's legs.

‘Ah think ah'd better gie him a hand,' Brendon commented drily, as the Reverend passed the window for the second time, this time going the opposite way.

Climbing to his feet, the steward gave her a quick bow, just as her grandfather yelled, ‘if you want to kick up a lark with some mongrel, you could at least choose one the same deuced size as you.' Brendon and Jennifer stared at each other for a second, then both burst out laughing at exactly the same moment.

‘Go,' Jennifer chortled as her grandfather passed the window a third time, ‘I think Grandpapa might be in danger of an apoplexy.'

After a few moments, she watched through the window as Brendon ordered Fergus to sit. Fortunately the wolfhound didn't actually do so on top of his diminutive would-be paramour. With a gruff, ‘Thank you,' the Reverend picked his errant dog up and minutes later appeared in the breakfast room.

‘Having fun, Grandpapa?' Jennifer asked with a grin. She couldn't for the life of her have kept a straight face.

The Reverend narrowed his eyes but contented himself with a small grunt.

‘By the way, who is this Casanova you mentioned?' Jennifer went on mischievously, knowing full well who her grandfather had been referring to, having secretly read the libertine's autobiography. (Another book from Aunt Pru's lending library).

The Reverend did what he always did when he didn't like the subject of the conversation – he changed it.

‘Has that old cully in a skirt turned up with Galbraith this morning?'

‘Grandfather! That really isn't very charitable of you, especially considering you're a man of God, but if you're referring to Dougal Galbraith - then no, I don't believe he's accompanied his son this morning.'

‘It would take a deuced saint to be charitable to that bag of bones,' muttered the Reverend, helping himself to some breakfast.

‘Well, in fairness, you did rather loom up on him unexpectedly, and Gifford mentioned there were no candles alight in that particular passageway.' She picked up her tea and took a sip. ‘And anyway, how was it you came upon Dougal Galbraith? What were you doing lurking in an unlit corridor? I thought you'd decided on a nap after the journey?' Jennifer eyed her grandfather suspiciously.

‘I was simply bringing succour to those less fortunate than ourselves,' Reverend Shackleford protested.

‘Why on earth were you bothering the servants?' Jennifer frowned. ‘Please tell me you weren't lecturing them on the evils of debauchery, avarice and wrath? And surely not sloth?'

Augustus Shackleford drew himself up. ‘You may mock, child, but I'll have you know, I spent a very rewarding half an hour discussing the finer points of Proverbs, Chapter fifteen, Verse twenty seven…'The Reverend winced internally at the plumper – well, half plumper. The servant he spoke to may very well have mentioned that particular passage for all he knew, and anyhow, the fellow had certainly found their conversation very rewarding.

Jennifer bit her lip. It was easy to think of her grandfather as totty headed, but she had no wish to hurt his feelings. And his heart was in the right place – most of the time. ‘Forgive me, Grandpapa,' she said earnestly. ‘I spoke out of turn – a rather large failing of mine as you're obviously well aware. I have no doubt you have many insights to offer the servants – after all, think how much you taught me on our journey here?'

The Reverend gave a slightly mollified, ‘hmph.' Mayhap he'd been worrying unduly and was a better advocate for the Almighty than he'd thought. And in truth, if Jennifer had received her outspokenness from anybody, it was most definitely him…

‘Perhaps you will be well positioned to bring succour to the poor unfortunate children like the boy we found yesterday, who've been used so cruelly?' Jennifer went on. ‘After all, we are intending to rescue them and put a stop to the MacFarlane Clan's barbaric practices are we not?'