Page 114 of The Scottish Duke
“What are you going to do?”
She had slept fitfully the night before with her worry about Nan, her confrontation with Alex, and her suspicions. Daylight hadn’t brought her any answers.
“I don’t know at the moment,” she said.
Robbie was fussing a little, so she put him on her shoulder and began to rock back-and-forth in the chair. The soothing motion soon led to him sleeping, his head lolling against her neck.
“No one saw her put the monkwood leaves in the tea,” Lorna added.
“If she really did it, Lorna, she’ll do something else.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m going to move all my remaining herbs to a locked room somewhere here in the castle. Or maybe I should just destroy them.”
What a pity, since some of them had taken her father years to collect and others were rare. They were the only important things she owned, but if she had to destroy them to prevent others from using them for ill, she would.
When Hortense arrived, Lorna approved of the broth that she had brought from the kitchen.
“Mrs.McDermott made me promise that I wouldn’t stop on the way anywhere, Lorna. Your Grace, I mean. I was to come straight here and not let anyone near the bowl.”
Evidently Alex had already instituted his measures.
“Good,” Lorna said.
Turning to Nan, she smiled. “If your stomach can tolerate the bone broth, I promise to bring you something more substantial later.”
Nan only made a face.
The sun had finally decided to make an appearance, burning off the mist and chasing away the bank of clouds.
She didn’t want to return to the sitting room. Nor did she want to be with anyone. She was in a strange, almost sad mood. Without much encouragement she could burst into tears. Not exactly a time to be with a companion. Instead, she was going to get a little fresh air, and it wouldn’t hurt Robbie, either.
She bundled up both of them, using one of her long woolen scarves to devise a way to carry Robbie. She tied it around her waist then above her shoulders, knotting it at the front. She spread the scarf open and lifted Robbie inside. He seemed to think it was great fun, his brown eyes sparkling up at her. Whenever she looked at him, it was like something was squeezing her heart. Except for the color of his eyes, he resembled Alex so much.
Robbie was beginning to recognize certain people. He’d smiled his first smile. His gurgling sounded like laughter. He was lifting his head up and surveying the world like he was pleased with what he saw. Soon he would be crawling and then walking. All of Blackhall would be his domain.
She, too, had changed in the intervening months. She was no longer willing to simply dream dreams. She wanted to see the world as it was, but be happy with it, too. She wanted to be loved. Surely that wasn’t too onerous a wish.
She made her way to the first floor without seeing anyone. She didn’t know about other great houses, but Blackhall had a certain rhythm to it. A pulse beat, perhaps. Most of the daily activity happened between dawn and eleven. Then, people gravitated to the servants’ dining room for an early lunch. The castle seemed to doze a little between lunch and when the cleaning of the upper rooms began at one. From then until four or five, the staff were busy with their tasks. Conversation could be heard in the stairwell, along with occasional laughter, but never near the family quarters or in the public rooms that might be occupied.
They were a discreet group, the staff of Blackhall Castle. Most of them had come from Inverness with a few from nearby villages. The pay was good, the working conditions better than the factory jobs that sometimes lured a girl back to Inverness. Not only did they have hot water in their rooms, but they were fed delicious meals. Nor did Mrs.McDermott expect anyone to work twenty hours a day. Granted, the housekeeper was strict, and she did have certain standards that she expected the staff to follow, but work was normally complete before dinner, and afterward the time was theirs.
But there was little at Blackhall in the way of entertainment.
Perhaps she should institute a staff party once a month or a visit to Inverness. The logistics of doing either seemed enormous, but she was determined to try. Even if they were without the entire staff for a half day, surely they could manage. If she had to, she’d take Thomas his tea tray herself. That is, if he was at Blackhall. He was spending more and more time in London lately.
She opened one of the rear doors of the castle. Another advantage to having been a maid. She knew where all the exits and entrances to the castle were, along with hiding places, secret passages, and servants’ cubbies.
Robbie began to fuss. Maybe he didn’t like the little wool hat that Nan had knitted for him. Or the matching mittens of blue that prevented him from gnawing on his knuckles, a favorite pastime of his.
She hummed a little tune, which seemed to soothe Robbie. He enjoyed her singing to him, probably because he didn’t know what the difference was between being able to sing on key or not. Nor could she play the pianoforte. Her father had never considered learning a musical instrument to be as important as memorizing the genus and family of hundreds of herbs and plants.
Louise didn’t play, either. “I did once, my dear,” she said one evening at dinner. “I simply gave it up because I didn’t enjoy it. I’ve decided to only occupy myself with things I truly enjoy.”
“You hate needlework,” Lorna countered.
“Ah, yes, I do, but that isn’t an occupation. That is penance. I force myself to consider those sins I’ve committed that day and vow to try to be better. You’ll notice that I do needlework every day.”
Lorna had nodded.
