Page 5 of A Merry MacNaughton
She turned, blinked back the tears, and rubbed her arms against the chill. Her skin warmed but her heart remained cold. “Ye betrayed me in there, Da. How could ye do it?”
“I told them ye wouldna agree to the bargain, but they wanted ye to make up yer own mind. They love ye, Peigi, but our situation is desolate, and they are grasping at any sign of hope.”
“But to be so reckless with yer own kin.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The worry in his eyes softened her anger. “So ye are no’ asking me to do this?”
“Of course no’. I promised yer mother I wouldna make ye marry—or otherwise—against yer will. But they had to present the earl’s offer.” He paused. “What if it had been a genuine offer of marriage? Would that have made a difference?”
She paused and gave his question due thought. Lord Fulton was not an ugly man. He had that pale refined English look, medium height, and too thin for her taste. She could be stuck with much worse or much older, and he had been attentive. “Perhaps, is all I can say. No’ that it matters, for it isna what he offered.” Peigi would do anything to help her family and her clan. But giving herself up, her virginity, her self-esteem, nay. It was not fair to ask this of her.
“No’ to worry, my sweet. I have another idea that might work just as well.” He patted her cheek, gave her a wink, and walked away.
Peigi slid thedough into one of the baking ovens on the side of the kitchen fireplace. A rich brown gravy bubbled in a cast iron pot hung over glowing embers. She rubbed her sweaty cheek against her shoulder then wiped the remaining flour from her hands onto her apron. Grabbing the brush from the bucket, she set to work scrubbing the table. Thoughts turned to the coming holiday—Hogmanay and the new year’s celebration.
It had been her mother’s favorite time of year. Guests dropping in, special sweet treats prepared, and music and dancing. It had always been a hectic time, preparing the food and decorating the hall. But Ma had rarely spent time in the kitchen except to give instructions. The Craiggs had been prosperous then.
“Mistress Peigi, give me that brush. I leave for barely quarter of an hour and look at ye! Yer hands will redden from the soap and the bristles.” Mairi clucked her disapproval then gave her a sad smile, showing a front gap in her teeth. “It’s a sorrowful day when the old Craigg’s granddaughter must work in the kitchen.” She began to scrub the faded and scarred ashwood, her cheeks quivering with the brisk motion.
Peigi turned back to the kettle and inhaled the civet of hare that she stewed with rosemary and garlic filling her nostrils as she gave it a stir. She and the cook had danced a little jig when her father caught the animal. Hares were a red meat, unlike rabbits, and red meat was rare in the winter for the Craiggs. She reached for a ladle from a hook next to the hearth and stirred the onions, kale, turnips, and potatoes that had sunk to the bottom.
The menfolk had been in the study all afternoon. According to Mairi, there had been shouts and curses coming from the room earlier. A familiar scene since her grandfather’s death last month. Guilt niggled at her as she thought of how she’d thwarted her father and uncle’s attempt to make peace with the Earl of Fulton. From the constant squabbling between them, they had not found another alternative.
“Miss Peigi, here are more turnips and tatties from the root cellar.” A small boy entered the room. His freckled face was pink from running. “And yer father wants to speak with ye.”
“Thank ye, Charles.” She collected the vegetables in her apron. “Tell Da I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished. Mairi, could ye add these to the stew?”
Satisfied, she picked up her skirts and headed up the stone stairs. Peigi didn’t mind hard work. It filled her days and gave her purpose. Da and her uncles had a heavy burden, and she wanted to do her share. Why pay someone to do tasks she could easily assume? Her mother had insisted Peigi be accomplished in reading, writing, and needlework. Those skills were useful to a degree but did little to put a meal on the table or herbs in the apothecary. So she’d educated herself in more practical skills with the help of Mairi. The woman was a library of knowledge on anything that had roots, leaves, or berries.
After changing into a deep brown skirt and matching bodice, she checked her reflection, tucked a few stray locks under her cap, and headed for the study. As she approached the door, angry voices penetrated the thick wood.
“Are ye sure there is no other way?”
Och, she was tired of the arguments between them. Why couldn’t men discuss things calmly like the women? She gave a hard rap on the door and pushed it open.
“Weel, here we are again. My apologies, my lovely niece, for the last meeting. Ye ken how much we care about ye. I swear ye are the image of my dear departed sister.” He held out his arms. “Can ye forgive a cantankerous old man?”
She smiled but walked into his embrace with narrowed eyes. Uncle Enoch rarely apologized for anything, let alone to a woman who had refused to do his bidding. This stunk of trickery. “Of course, Uncle. So what new plan have ye come up with?”
“It seems yer father thinks peace with the MacNaughtons is possible.” He nodded in Malachi’s direction. “He recounted his time with that clan last spring and feels strongly they would agree to end the feud.”
“Just like that?” She snapped her fingers, knowing it would take more than a few words to bring the two clans together. “And this concerns me in what way?”
“We’d have to pledge fealty to the MacNaughtons. In return, they would put our clan to work, tending the sheep, shearing, and spinning wool,” Malachi explained. “This would allow our people to profit from the shearing and the MacNaughtons would increase their weaving production.”
“That still doesna explain why ye need me. ’Tis a man’s work, to be sure, and I have enough to do here. Surely, the three of ye are better for this task than a merewoman.” She said this last bit, looking up at her uncle. Something was amiss, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“I would appreciate yer company when I journey to Dunderave to meet with them.” Her father took both her hands in his. “It seems the MacNaughton has great respect for his wife’s opinion. We hoped if ye made a good impression on her, it would help our cause. If they provided an income for our families, think of the peace of mind it would give us for the next winter.”
This news surprised her, but it made sense. It was a way to help without sacrificing her body and reputation for the clan.
“If ye think I can help, I am obliged to go.” Trepidation still skirted her thoughts, but Da wouldn’t deceive his own daughter. “When were ye thinking to take yer leave?”
“As soon as possible.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I knew ye’d be willing to help.”
“It’s notquiteso simple. Lord Fulton gave us until his Twelfth Night celebration to give him an answer. If this doesna work out with the MacNaughtons, we are back to the original offer.” Uncle Enoch stood before her now, towering above her with an intimidating scowl. “I’m warning ye lass, niece or no, we will do what is necessary to preserve this clan. If ye dinna cooperate, every family will ken why they are starving next winter.”
Heat covered her cheeks as she glared at his retreating back. How she’d love to throttle the arrogant old goat. How dare he put the fate of the Craiggs on her shoulders alone. She did not insult the previous earl or cause this situation. A hand squeezed her shoulder.
“He’s frightened for all of us, Peigi. The Craiggs have been here for centuries, and we dinna want to leave our homeland. But no one will force ye into anything.” Her father shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Now begin yer preparations. I ken ye will be wanting to leave endless instructions, and I dinna ken how long we will be gone.”
