bodice. And there’s a tear on the hem of the gown you’re wearing.’
Margaret heard the echo of her own confusion in Celia’s voice. ‘As travellers we’ll not be expected to be tidy. Rest a while, and I’ll help you later.’
Celia regarded Margaret, her eyes dark beneath the heavy brows. ‘I see by your expression this haste is not your doing.’
Margaret told her of her uncle’s theory. ‘So it is for our own good.’
With an expressive sigh, Celia folded a corner of a gown and sank down on to the space so cleared, her small hands on her knees, studying the plank floor. ‘Tell me again what your house is like.’
Celia had never been to Perth. Margaretrecalled how uneasy she had felt as a child travelling to Dunkeld to see her mother’s parents. Her keenest memory was how the alien smell of everything made her lose her appetite for a few days. Celia had not been interested in food when they’d first arrived in Edinburgh last spring, and though tiny the maid usually had a healthy appetite.
‘Are you certain you wish to come with us?’ Margaret asked. ‘I’ve just told you of the danger.’
Celia’s thick, dark, almost joined brows bunched beneath her broad, pale forehead. ‘I am in danger whenever I encounter a soldier in this town. I think nowhere is safe at present. Tell me about the house. It will give me something pleasant to think about.’
‘It’s larger and tidier than this, you can be sure,’ Margaret said, forcing a smile. ‘It is the second house from the market cross, near the river, but not too near. There is a large kitchen in the backland, and two small chambers over the far side of the hall. We have few furnishings, but it is solidly built to withstand the fiercest winds and the hall sits over an undercroft to protect us from the floods.’
‘Floods?’
‘Sometimes the mountain snows melt so quickly the Tay runs over its banks,’ Margaret said. ‘But the canals on three sides of the town catch most of the flood to turn the mill wheels andcarry barges,’ she hastened to add, noting Celia’s apprehension. ‘And there are water meadows around the town, full of birds.’
‘You never want for water, then,’ Celia said, with an uncertain laugh.
Margaret thought it better not to speak of how floods might contaminate wells. ‘You’ll like my friend Ada. She is my mother’s age, but nothing like her – she’s practical and clever – in faith, she’s educated. She was the mistress of a great, generous lord. He bought her the home in which she lives on Northgate and the costliest silks.’ She was glad to see Celia’s eyes light up at that. ‘I have missed her good counsel.’
But the day would soon fade. ‘I must see James and Father Francis.’ She regretted deserting Celia when the maid needed reassurance, but there was so little time.
James guessed Margaret’s errand by her boldness in coming to his home, something she had not risked since Roger’s appearance. He was not surprised by her news, understanding the need to depart when the time was right. More interesting was Margaret’s distress. She looked ready to burst into tears, or to scream, neither of which he cared to witness.
‘It is what you wanted,’ he reasoned, offering her a chair.
Margaret ignored his offer, choosing to pacebetween the hearth and James, cupping one fist with the other, then reversing, as if warming her hands, though the room was actually stuffy. ‘Is it what I wanted, or have I walked into a trap?’ As soon as she said it, she pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head as if arguing with herself. ‘I did not mean that.’
‘You did, I believe,’ said James. ‘What has happened?’
She turned away and bowed her head. ‘I caught Roger in a lie.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I asked what had happened between here and Dundee last summer.’
James heard with interest Sinclair’s tale of the Brankstons, how it was because of them that he’d gone to the aid of Edwina of
Margaret heard the echo of her own confusion in Celia’s voice. ‘As travellers we’ll not be expected to be tidy. Rest a while, and I’ll help you later.’
Celia regarded Margaret, her eyes dark beneath the heavy brows. ‘I see by your expression this haste is not your doing.’
Margaret told her of her uncle’s theory. ‘So it is for our own good.’
With an expressive sigh, Celia folded a corner of a gown and sank down on to the space so cleared, her small hands on her knees, studying the plank floor. ‘Tell me again what your house is like.’
Celia had never been to Perth. Margaretrecalled how uneasy she had felt as a child travelling to Dunkeld to see her mother’s parents. Her keenest memory was how the alien smell of everything made her lose her appetite for a few days. Celia had not been interested in food when they’d first arrived in Edinburgh last spring, and though tiny the maid usually had a healthy appetite.
‘Are you certain you wish to come with us?’ Margaret asked. ‘I’ve just told you of the danger.’
Celia’s thick, dark, almost joined brows bunched beneath her broad, pale forehead. ‘I am in danger whenever I encounter a soldier in this town. I think nowhere is safe at present. Tell me about the house. It will give me something pleasant to think about.’
‘It’s larger and tidier than this, you can be sure,’ Margaret said, forcing a smile. ‘It is the second house from the market cross, near the river, but not too near. There is a large kitchen in the backland, and two small chambers over the far side of the hall. We have few furnishings, but it is solidly built to withstand the fiercest winds and the hall sits over an undercroft to protect us from the floods.’
‘Floods?’
‘Sometimes the mountain snows melt so quickly the Tay runs over its banks,’ Margaret said. ‘But the canals on three sides of the town catch most of the flood to turn the mill wheels andcarry barges,’ she hastened to add, noting Celia’s apprehension. ‘And there are water meadows around the town, full of birds.’
‘You never want for water, then,’ Celia said, with an uncertain laugh.
Margaret thought it better not to speak of how floods might contaminate wells. ‘You’ll like my friend Ada. She is my mother’s age, but nothing like her – she’s practical and clever – in faith, she’s educated. She was the mistress of a great, generous lord. He bought her the home in which she lives on Northgate and the costliest silks.’ She was glad to see Celia’s eyes light up at that. ‘I have missed her good counsel.’
But the day would soon fade. ‘I must see James and Father Francis.’ She regretted deserting Celia when the maid needed reassurance, but there was so little time.
James guessed Margaret’s errand by her boldness in coming to his home, something she had not risked since Roger’s appearance. He was not surprised by her news, understanding the need to depart when the time was right. More interesting was Margaret’s distress. She looked ready to burst into tears, or to scream, neither of which he cared to witness.
‘It is what you wanted,’ he reasoned, offering her a chair.
Margaret ignored his offer, choosing to pacebetween the hearth and James, cupping one fist with the other, then reversing, as if warming her hands, though the room was actually stuffy. ‘Is it what I wanted, or have I walked into a trap?’ As soon as she said it, she pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head as if arguing with herself. ‘I did not mean that.’
‘You did, I believe,’ said James. ‘What has happened?’
She turned away and bowed her head. ‘I caught Roger in a lie.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I asked what had happened between here and Dundee last summer.’
James heard with interest Sinclair’s tale of the Brankstons, how it was because of them that he’d gone to the aid of Edwina of
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