Page 19 of The Major's Mistake
“In Scotland.”
Sykes looked as if he found that an interesting piece of news, but refrained from pressing her any further on personal matters. Instead, his eyes fell to the contents of her basket “By the way, what is all this?” he asked with a quizzical expression .
“Herbs and roots mostly, along with some barks and moss.”
“What are they for?” A twinkle came to his eye. “You are not by any chance one of those Scottish witches who toil over a cauldron—Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.”
Miranda couldn’t hide her surprise. “You are familiar with Shakespeare?”
“Aye. My employer is fond of reading. In our travels we have passed many an hour with the Bard or Marlowe to raise our spirits.”
“It sounds as if you have an interesting employer..”
“Oh, me and the guv suit each other pretty well. He’s fair, he’s principled, he’s even-tempered and not at all toplofty, as many of the swells of his rank can be.
“He certainly sounds to be quite the perfect gentleman,” she remarked dryly.
He grinned. “I must sound like a swooning female, singing His Lordship’s praises, but Lord knows, there’s enough of them sort in London, dangling after him now that he’s the marquess. It’s one of the reasons he is up here, to get a little space to breath and get used to being back in England—you see, we’ve been off on the Peninsula for quite some time and?—”
Miranda looked away quickly and fought to steady her breathing. After a few more strides, she halted abruptly at the edge of a copse of beeches. “If you please, I shall take my basket now.”
Sykes stopped as well, a look of puzzlement on his grizzled face that quickly changed into chagrin. “Forgive me, ma’am, if I touched a raw nerve. I know that many a husband perished in the fighting and?—”
“Good day, Mr. Sykes.” The words were barely out of her mouth before she wrenched the basket out of his hands and hurried off into the shadows, leaving him utterly puzzled as to what he had said wrong.
The burly figureslid back off the rocky ledge into the shelter of several large boulders.
“It’s that tall cove again, the one with the bad leg,” he muttered to the other man who was huddled low to escape the biting wind.
His companion tugged his thick wool cap lower over his stringy locks. “What’s a swell like him doing here around the border? Don’t recall ever seen his face round these parts afore.”
The other man took a surreptitious pull at the small flask cupped in his hand. “How often do the English landowners bother to show their pretty faces on the estates they milk dry,” he said with a bitter laugh. “No doubt he’s simply been forced to rusticate to the country for a time.” His hand came up to wipe hislips. “However, we can’t be too careful. We better let McTavish know about this.”
Six
Justin carefully tilted the small pitcher and filled the earthenware bowl with milk. The fuzzy little ball of fur by his feet nearly knocked it over in its haste to lap up the frothy contents.
“What have you here?” Miranda knelt by her son’s side.
“It’s the runt,” he explained. “The others all push him away when its time for feeding. Cook said I might bring him this.”
She gave his little shoulder a squeeze. “That’s very thoughtful of you, my love.”
“You have always told me I must help those who are less fortunate than me.”
“That’s quite right, and I’m glad to see that you are taking it to heart. Kindness and compassion are qualities that every gentleman should have.”
“I shall remember that, Mama.” He watched the scrawny kitten lap at the milk for a moment. “Mama, am I a gentleman?”
Miranda drew in her breath. “We shall discuss that when you are older.”
Justin shifted slightly in the pile of straw. “The Major is a grand gentleman.” It was said more as a question.
“Yes. Indeed he is.”
“He said I might ride on Zeus again.” The boy’s face took on a rapt expression. “The Major is a great gun, isn’t he!”
Miranda carefully schooled her features to reveal no hint of her inner emotions. “You are quite right, Justin. The Major is a great gun.” She brushed a wisp of hay from his dark locks.” Now you had better run along and help Angus saddle Thistle. His Lordship will soon be here to take you riding. I shall make sure your newest protégé finishes his nuncheon.” With a last little hug, she sent him on his way.
