Page 36 of A Dash of Scot
Poppy laughed. “No, but now that you point it out.”
“Oh, you,” Anise scoffed, but her eyes glinted.
“I merely thought the air would do me good and that as soon as you saw the modiste’s shop, you’d be looking for a ready-made dress, too, and I’ve plenty of gowns to keep me satisfied.”
Anise’s face lit up. “A lovely idea to look for dresses! I shall dine on bread the rest of the month. Perhaps we should have a few made.”
“Perhaps just one,” Mama said, at least seeing some sense. “But I don’t like the idea of you walking, dear.”
“A walk will do me some good, Mama, I promise. And it’s perfectly safe.”
“Shall I walk with you?” Anise said. The two of them did enjoy their walks together. “Mama can handle the reins, can you not, Mama?”
“I have been known to handle a horse or two in my day.”
Poppy shook her head. “Not this time. Don’t worry so much. Go on into town. I’ll see you all soon.”
Poppy laced her boots up and started on her walk. They weren’t far from the village. Perhaps a mile or so. The sky was blue, the sun high, and she tied on a bonnet to keep herself from getting a sunburn.
The exercise felt amazing, but she needed the quiet time to think more. With the house so small, she never felt she had any time to herself. And she so loved to think and ponder. To contemplate what they were going to do with their lives. She might need to start incorporating a daily walk. She had spent most of her time helping their sparse staff keep the household running so that Mama and Anise could relax and be happy. Their nerves were much more delicate than hers.
But until this moment—when she was outside in the sun, stretching her legs, feeling the invigoration of movement—she had not realized how much she’d missed and needed this.
She sauntered down the road, looking at the swells of the hills and moors, the various houses and cottages that dotted the landscape. The sheep and cattle. She plucked a flower from where it grew between the two stones that made up the wall beside the road, also serving as a fence on someone’s property to keep their animals from wandering.
It was a tiny white flower, its petals delicate as she stroked them. She tucked it near her ear, between the ribbon and her bonnet for an added feminine touch.
She was excited about the dance, curious about what it might be like given the difference in landscape. Would their dances be the same? The punch? Would their evening gowns be out of place? Did people in the county wear gowns? Or did they don their best day dresses?
Poppy wasn’t ready to go to a dance yet, but their situation was one she felt partially responsible for. Perhaps if she’d been nicer to Mary, there might not have been a rivalry. But even as she thought it, she knew it for the rubbish it was. Dougal was right about one thing, even if he was a heartbreaker—his sister lived to torment others.
And so, Poppy was going to go and make the best of their new life. The Highlands were truly stunning. She was lucky to live in such a gorgeous and peaceful place, truly.
At the dance, she’d perhaps try to make some friends, in addition to meeting a few eligible bachelors she might be able to add to a list she’d started in her diary, which was still blank. Only the title stood out on the top of the page: Potential Husbands.
The one name she would have liked to add there was one she never would. The notebook had been a gift from her father, and she’d never known what to write in it. Potential husbands seemed like a good entry. And yet that too was blank, just like the rest of her future. It was a wide-open canvas ready to be filled.
Somehow, she had to erase Dougal from her mind. And the only way to do that was to put herself back on the marriage market.
Miss Poppy Featherstone—an accomplished woman nearing spinsterhood—do we have any bidders?
She sighed, seeing her thoughts turning melancholy, and determined she needed to push past those dour contemplations and focus on the good. The things she was grateful for.
The rest of her walk into town flew by as she admired the atmosphere and landscape of Skerray. Took in the sea-salt scent of the coast. And when she made it into the small village, she smiled at its quaintness rather than frowning.
Mama and Anise were coming out of the drapers, spotting her right away.
“Did you find a dress?” Poppy asked.
“A lovely one in a dusky rose. She took my measurements to take it in, but thinks it will be ready in time.” Anise’s smile was contagious.
“How lovely.”
There were new ribbons and a new pair of slippers each, though Poppy did try to dissuade her on the last bit. Each pair of slippers costs as much as nearly a fortnight’s supply of food. But Mama wouldn’t hear of it and said she’d be happy to dine on bread the rest of the season if it kept her girls in good slippers. Poppy did not think it was likely to come to that, but nevertheless was determined to find a book in the house on gardening in case she needed to start planting their own food.
12
Dougal had always believed himself to be a man of action.
