Page 33 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

The beast stopped, too. He nudged her side. She didn’t budge. Then, almost as if sensing her distress, he comfortingly licked her palm with his large tongue.

Fiona could not hold back her smile. The uncertainty of the morning fell away, the anxiety of her decision to come here faded.

It appeared that she had at long last found a friend.

Fiona stood at one end of the great hall and stared at the circle of women gathered near the fireplace. It had been five days since Gavin had so abruptly departed and there was still no word on when he and his men might return.

Well, no word that had been shared with her. Though she had asked. Every morning. And at each of the noon meals. Then again at the evening meal and once more before she retired for the night.

She bade Alice to inquire also. And Father Niall. But the answer was always the same—no one knew.

Fiona didn’t believe it. Just last night, from the small window of her bedchamber, she had seen a young soldier return to the bailey, obviously bringing news. She had hastily thrown her cloak over her nightgown and rushed to the great hall. But the messenger was nowhere to be seen, and when she had asked, several of the servants had denied he even existed.

Perhaps today the earl will appear. There are several hours of daylight remaining.

Fiona’s spirits were momentarily buoyed at the thought. Time had hung heavy these last few days, mainly because she had little to keep her occupied. The earl’s castle was a stark, unfriendly place. Her brief encounters with Spencer had been unsettling, for it was obvious he preferred to converse with the other squires. She was glad that he had so quickly adjusted, but seeing Spencer’s easy acceptance of this new life made her even more lonely.

If not for the large hound who had befriended her at Mass, there would be none but Alice and Father Niall to greet her with a smile. For whenever she came across the hound, Fiona could swear he was grinning, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging so fast and furiously his entire back end shook.

It was a momentary bit of joy in an otherwise dull day. Fiona had not been foolish enough to expect any overtures of friendship she extended would be welcomed by the castle folk, but she had thought she could at least work alongside them.

The women studied her with the sharpness of a hawk, yet whenever she met their gaze with a hesitant smile, their hard stares passed coldly over her. Gossip was rampant throughout the castle, spreading out to the village. Fiona tried hard not to imagine what horrid tales were being told about the earl’s English mistress, but so much idle time led to far too much thinking.

It was starting to become depressing. Knowing her position in the household was rather . . . uhm . . . unique, Fiona had kept to her chamber after Mass that first day. Making her bed, sweeping the floor, tidying the small chamber, then darning every article of clothing she possessed had taken half the morning. But when she was finished, she quickly became bored.

Knowing her idle hands would make the hours hang heavy, Fiona had boldly entered the earl’s chamber. It was large and well appointed, and above all masculine. Feeling like an intruder, she worried at the reaction if she was discovered.Probably be thrown into the damp dungeons and left there until the earl returned.

But the monotony and boredom of being idle soon overtook her fears. Cautiously she lifted the top of a wooden chest, slightly disappointed to find it was filled with the earl’s clothing. Curious, she unfolded the top piece, a deep blue tunic, edged with gold thread. The center medallion was a gold falcon, with bright red eyes that had clearly taken someone many hours to create.

Running her hand slowly over the intricate embroidery, Fiona discovered several loose stitches, along with a tear of the fabric on the shoulder. Resolved, she placed the garment on the floor and reached for the next piece. It was a fine linen shirt, dyed an unusual shade of light green. That too sported a large tear, acquired perhaps when yanked off the body carelessly and too quickly.

By the time she had gone through every garment, Fiona had a substantial pile that needed repair. Enthused at having something to occupy her time, she gathered the pile in her arms and returned to her small chamber.

Alice nearly accosted her when she entered. “Is that the laundry, Lady Fiona? How dare those Scottish crows make you carry it!”

“Be calm, Alice. It’s not the laundry. These are the earl’s garments, sorely in need of repair.”

“Why do you have them?”

“I intend to make the repairs. Fetch my sewing kit, please.”

The maid’s eyes flashed. “What about the earl’s squire? He should be attending to this mess. ’Tis his job to keep his master’s clothes in good order.”

“I suspect the poor lad has been hiding these things. They require a delicate hand to be properly mended. A talent I’m sure the squire lacks.”

“Well, there are plenty of others to do that sort of work. No need to soil your delicate hands.” Alice tilted her head and sniffed. “You are a lady.”

“I am. And as such will showcase my skills with a needle. Now fetch my kit.”

“But—”

“Alice, fetch my kit and that’s the end of it.”

The maid did not bother to disguise her groan of disapproval, but she obeyed. “The light in here is dismal,” Alice complained. “You’ll go blind doing all this sewing.”

“Yes, it is rather dim,” Fiona agreed, but she would not be deterred. “Please pull back the window covering to allow in the light.”

With another heavy sigh, Alice followed the order. A sharp ray of sunshine filled the room, followed by a burst of fresh air. Experiencing both uplifted Fiona’s spirits. Keeping busy was also a boon, making the afternoon pass quickly. But by midmorning of the next day, she had finished all the work and been unable to uncover anything else to do.

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