Page 22 of To Wed an Heiress
Chapter Ten
It took only a matter of seconds for Mercy to fall asleep on the comfortable mattress. When she woke it was to find that three hours had passed. She quickly donned a green-striped dress over two crinolines and her kid slippers—a welcome respite from her traveling shoes.
She used a little rouge on her lips, but it made her complexion look even more pale in contrast. She wiped most of it off and decided against applying any color to her cheeks.
Like it or not, she looked as if she had been in an accident.
Elizabeth knocked on the door a quarter hour later.
“Were you able to get any rest?” her aunt asked.
“I was,” she said. “But I still feel like I could go to bed and stay there for a week.”
“I felt the same when we arrived in Scotland, but we didn’t have to suffer through an accident. Are you certain you feel well enough to go down to dinner?”
“I do, but would it be possible to check on Ruthie first?”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said, leading the way to the back stairs.
She was glad to see that the rooms occupied by the servants at Macrory House—or at least Ruthie’s room—were large, well lit, and quite attractive. She found Ruthie sitting up in bed, Lily sitting on a chair beside her. The two women were eating their dinners and looked as if they were engaged in an animated conversation.
Mercy didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but after a second or two it wasn’t difficult to ascertain that they were talking about Connor. There might be a feud between the Macrorys and the Caithearts, but it evidently didn’t extend to the servants.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Much better, Miss Mercy. I’ve been treated like a princess.”
“Is there anything that you need?”
“Are there donkeys roundabouts?”
“I’ll ask,” she said.
Ruthie nodded, evidently satisfied. “I’ll do for you in the morning, Miss Mercy. I’m sure to be feeling fine.”
“No, you won’t,” Mercy said. “You’ve been hurt and the most important thing is for you to feel better.”
Ruthie looked as if she wanted to argue, especially when Lily spoke up and said, “If you ring, Miss Mercy, I’ll be glad to help you.”
“Thank you, Lily. As for you, Ruthie, I’ll check on you in the morning. But I don’t expect you to be out of this bed.”
Once they left the room, Elizabeth spoke. “Donkeys?”
“Donkey hair,” Mercy answered. “Ruthie believes that donkey hair will stave off a cold, an infection, and in this case, probably help her arm to heal.”
When Elizabeth didn’t say anything, Mercy smiled. “Ruthie has many folk remedies and sayings to go along with them. The fact that she wants donkey hair is a good sign.”
“It is?”
Mercy nodded. “That means she really is feeling better. She hardly said a word to me all afternoon.”
It felt odd going down to dinner when it was still light outside. But, then, it didn’t get dark until nearly midnight in the Highlands in summer, a fact Mercy had discovered on arriving in Scotland.
As they descended the main stairs, Elizabeth spoke about the people she would soon be meeting.
“Your great-uncle, Mother’s brother, is a very strong-willed man. Uncle Douglas will question you endlessly, Mercy, but don’t take it to heart. He does the same thing to everyone when he first meets them.”
Her father had a similar questioning style bordering on interrogation.
