Page 23 of Deception and Desire
The maid held a gown of dark blue serviceable cotton that would have made Lady Franklin cringe. Or break out in a rash, Fenella thought with a giggle. The only adornment was tiny pale blue lace scallops along the cuffs and hem of her skirt, and a matching ribbon cinched just under the bustline. After exchanging her nightrail for a thin shift, donning the short stays, and finally the petticoat, Fenella raised her arms one last time for the dress. It fell to the floor rather than floated as her muslin or pretty gauzes would. However, with the colder temperatures this far north, she’d appreciate the thick layer.
“I think the spencer will do rather than the long pelisse, Rose. I can slip it off easily if I get too warm in the office.” As she searched for her flat leather shoes, she wondered if she would need something sturdier for the mill. Boots might be a better choice.
“Now, let me do your hair. Do you want a few curls as I did yesterday?” asked Rose.
“No, for today I think just a simple chignon.” Fenella hated pushing back the curls when she was working. With her head bent over multiple ledgers, the dangling locks would often block her side view. “And no fancy ribbons or pins. I’m an employee, not a daughter of an ambitious London mother.”
They both chuckled at that. Rose smoothed back a stray hair and handed her the straw bonnet with the dark silver ribbons.
“How do I look?” Fenella asked, turning in a slow circle.
“Like a governess,” she answered, her nose scrunched in dislike. “How long must you wear these plain clothes?”
“I have no idea,” Fenella said cheerfully.
“Why a lady wouldwantto wear such drab fixings, I cannot understand.”
“Take comfort that I’m wearing fine linen and silk beneath this dress. Now, a bit of breakfast and I’ll be ready. Have you eaten yet?”
Her maid nodded. “Yes, I ate with MacGregor. He’s getting the carriage ready now.”
Fenella’s stomach jumped. This was not a dream. “Why am I feeling my nerves now? You’d think yesterday would have been the day to fret.”
“Some food in your belly will make it right again.” Rose pushed her mistress into the hall. “Now go and remember every detail. And keep an eye out for another handsome Scot for me.”
In the dining room, her grandmother was pouring coffee. “Would ye like a cup?”
Fenella shook her head. “I haven’t acquired a taste for it, but tea would be lovely.”
A small iron pot sat in the center of the table. She took off the lid and scooped some porridge into a bowl with the wooden ladle. The steam rose under her nose. Her mother never allowed oats to be served. Another reminder of Lady Franklin’s common childhood, she supposed. Adding honey and cream, she sank her spoon into the mixture and sighed.
“Are ye ready for yer first Scottish adventure?” asked her grandmother.
She nodded. “As ready as I will ever be.” Taking the offered cup of tea, she smiled as she stirred in the sugar. “What if I don’t go home, Grandmama? What if Idoenjoy this position and want to stay in Glasgow?” Her heart pounded, torn between the thought of not seeing her family every day and a desire to jump into this new venture headfirst. But caution tugged at her.
“Nothing would please me more, my dear. Ye ken ye are welcome here for as long as ye want to stay. But let’s not measure the milk before we’ve even brought the cow in from the field.” She smiled when Fenella let out a laugh. “Now finish eating. Ye have work to do.”
It was asunny morning, and MacGregor had brought the phaeton around. A stocky man of about fifty, his keen brown eyes were usually narrowed and his wide mouth turned down in a habitual frown. Today was no exception. His red hair was receding and faded, but he still had the energy and strength of a much younger man. He helped her into the new vehicle her grandmother had purchased after the sale of the book shop. It was lower to the ground than many she’d seen in Hyde Park. It also had a half-hood in case of rain, and shiny, black mud fenders that curved over the wheels to form a step. Fenella settled next to him on the cushioned leather seat and tied the bonnet straps under her chin. MacGregor shook the reins gently and clucked to the horses, deftly maneuvering the pair of bays through the narrow streets.
They left the residential neighborhood and turned down a side street. She sat back to watch the pedestrians already filling the lane. The commercial area was bustling with horses and wagons and peddlers pushing carts to unknown destinations. Two women haggled with a costermonger over the price of day-old bread. One pulled a coin from her apron pocket, then put it back and shook her head. The baker shrugged and wagged his finger before handing over the loaf. The woman gave him the coin and a broad grin.
A small girl trotted to keep up with her mother, clutching the back of her skirt with one hand. In her other fist, she dragged a tattered brown blanket behind her. A tall man hurrying by stepped on the tail of it, snatching it from the child’s hand. She gave a squeal and turned back to retrieve it. The woman stopped and adjusted the sack she carried. Then she squatted down, wrapped the blanket around the girl’s neck, and set off again at a brisk pace. This time the mother clutched her daughter’s wrist, the child’s small legs half-running to keep up.
“A basket has been packed for ye, Miss Franklin. Yer grandmother said ye’d be needing something to eat before I picked ye up.” He jerked his head behind him. “Cold meat pie, biscuits, and some of her shortbread to have with tea.”
“Papa took several tins of the sweet bread home with him. I’d wager at least one never made it across the border.” She clutched the seat as the vehicle turned onto Cheapside Street, a wider, busier thoroughfare.
MacNaughton Textile loomed to their right. Fenella thought it looked like some huge gothic manor from one of Evie’s romance novels. The stone was aged and gray, no embellishments or intricate carvings, with dull opaque windows reflected the morning sun. This could be a new beginning, an exciting future.
Her heart beat furiously as the wheels crunched to a stop. MacGregor stood and looped the reins to a hook on the other side of the front panel. He made his way down and around the phaeton, then handed her to the ground. This time, he followed her up the stairs.
“Thank you. I will see you at three?” Her stomach was twisting and turning now. Excitement and nerves. She wasn’t sure the hearty breakfast had been a good idea.
“Aye, Miss. If ye need me before that, just send word. There’s always a boy or two around, ready to run an errand for a farthing or ha’penny.” He pulled open the great door and poked his head inside. Satisfied, he stepped aside and gave her a nod.
“I assume it’s safe to enter? No marauding Scots who might accost my person?” She bit her lip, holding back the smile as his craggy face turned red. “Thank you. It makes me feel safe to have you watching over me.”
“I willna be caught off my guard again, Miss Franklin. Ye can be sure of that.” Then he tipped his hat to her as she entered.
