Page 13 of To Serve a Laird
“My daughter has been invited to go there in the coming Season,” he told her. “Apparently, now that our kingdoms are joined, His Majesty wants to get to know as many of his Scottish subjects as he can. What did you think of the experience?”
“It was… very intimidating, sir,” Claire answered hesitantly. “And I must tell you that I am not a person who is easily cowed. Usually, I am the one who frightens people.”
Dougal laughed again. He liked the young woman’s cheeky sense of humour. He had always been taught to dislike the English, but whenever he met them personally, he had always found them to be reasonably courteous and accommodating people. Claire was no different.
“Did you meet the king?” he asked curiously.
“Yes,” she replied with a grimace.
“Were you not impressed?”
Claire shook her head vigorously. “He was very pompous, as was the queen. I am afraid I was unable to hide my dislike of them, and I tried to avoid them at every chance I could. Fortunately, nobody missed me!”
“You have a rare sense of humour, young lady,” Dougal told her, laughing. “You are obviously a lady. What brings you here?”
Claire looked into Dougal’s eyes and saw the kindness and sympathy there. Could she tell him her story? She decided to take the chance.
“Please keep this to yourself,” she said cautiously, her eyes wide and pleading as she raised them to meet his.
“Whatever you say stays between us,” Dougal agreed.
Claire took a deep breath and began to pour out the story of her father and his treatment of her. When she came to the part where Iain had made his offer for her, tears began to leak down her cheeks. Dougal already knew the story, of course, but beingtold in Claire’s own words, and seeing the effect it had on her, moved him deeply.
When she had finished, Claire wiped her eyes and laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I don’t usually make such a fool of myself.”
“Think nothing of it,” Dougal replied. “Fate is a strange thing, and we have no control over it. We have all gone through hard times at some point, and I have a feeling yours will have a happy ending.”
“I hope so,” Claire replied. “Thank you, sir.”
She stood up and curtsied, then, just as she was about to walk away, Dougal said, “Try not to interrupt any more meetings!”
The tone of his voice was jovial, and Claire laughed, thinking what a good man Dougal was. She felt more cheerful after their conversation than she had since she came to Glengar Castle.
6
Claire finished the scrubbing and polishing eventually, and even though she could see that it did not reach Agnes’s high standards, the housekeeper let it pass, content that Claire was not shirking her duties and was trying to do her best.
Indeed, Claire was trying very hard to fit in with the women she worked with, although she found it very hard going. For a start, many of them spoke Gaelic and had no English at all, but most of them could speak her language but chose not to.
She persevered, however, despite being constantly rebuffed and laughed at for her lack of knowledge about the most basic of household chores. She could always tell when the maids were talking about her because they all lapsed into Gaelic and began to giggle and give her sneaky sideways glances.
Agnes had become a little softer towards Claire, and would occasionally defend her if one of the others was abusing her. If she had been on her home soil, Claire would quite happily have stood up for herself by using her whiplash tongue to verbally batter someone into submission.
Here, however, she was outnumbered and outgunned. Nobody would stand up for her if she could not do it herself, so it was better to be stoic and walk away.
Claire was sitting at the dinner table with the others, pushing her food around her plate as she tried to screw up the courage to eat it. She had managed sausages, liver, chicken, even a little venison, although that was mainly kept for those of higher rank. That evening it had been left over from some important function.
Rose had loved a food called haggis, but she had warned Claire not to be put off by its strange appearance, saying that it looked as if it was still alive. However, she assured Claire that it was delicious. Despite this, Claire was too timid to take a bite of it.
“What’s the matter, madam?” one of the women asked, smirking. “Is our food no’ good enough for ye?”
Claire did not answer, merely took a spoonful of the haggis and put it in her mouth, then, despite its strange appearance, it dissolved into one of the most delicious tastes she had ever experienced. Her eyes widened in appreciation, and she said appreciatively, “It is delicious.”
There was a murmur of surprised approval around the table, and Claire finished her meal without any further comment being made. When she put down her spoon, she licked her lips appreciatively and took a sip of ale, then looked around her. The other occupants of the table were sitting back looking sated and content, and while Claire was full, she was by no means content.
She had not written to her sisters for weeks, and now her conscience was troubling her. Yet how would she get parchment, pens, and ink to write a letter if none of the maids would share their supplies with her? Agnes would no doubt have a small supply, but Claire was loath to ask her, since she probably needed all of it for her work.
Before she had a chance to stop herself, Claire asked aloud, “Does anyone have parchment or ink?”
