Page 9 of Her Highlander’s Darkest Temptation (Highlanders of Cadney #14)
CHAPTER SIX
L aird Ranald had not even left the room before Maisie descended on Lydia like a storm cloud. “What were ye thinkin’? The laird daesnae clean, nae ever! ‘Tis nae done!”
Lydia flushed, embarrassment sweeping over her at her error - an obvious mistake in hindsight. “I… I did not ask him to assist me. It was only because I fell…”
“Daesnae matter! A laird daesnae clean, just like a servant daesnae give orders or write letters—nae unless ‘tis the Steward or the Healer.” Maisie scowled at her.
I have done both — giving orders and writing letters. I used to do both things.
She dared not say such things, so she only bowed her head. “I understand. It will not happen again.”
“It shouldnae. ‘Tis the pride o’ a servant tae work well an’ support her laird.
Tak’ more pride in yer work, lass, or ye’ll never keep a position.
Steward Corvin daesnae abide poor service, an’ neither daes Laird Ranald.
” Maisie huffed and waved for Lydia to join her in the next room.
“Ye need tae work faster, an’ still maintain the standard the laird expects, dae ye ken? ”
“Yes. I… I ken.” Lydia swallowed hard. “Laird Ranald has commanded me to serve him at the council meeting after supper. Would you… tell me how best to do so?”
Maisie raised an eyebrow. “An’ why would the laird be askin’ ye tae dae somethin’ like that? ‘Tis usually a squire’s duty.”
Lydia thought quickly, her hands fumbling a cleaning rag as she searched for an excuse. “I was attacked upon the road - it is why I was alone and Lord Ranald brought me to the keep. Perhaps he wishes to have me tell what I saw, and believes this to be the most acceptable solution?”
“I suppose that could be true. I did hear Corvin moanin’ yesterday that the newly hired servants he was expectin’ tae arrive were waylaid.
” Maisie nodded. “Well, I’ve never served the Council, but from what the lads say, there’s little enough tae be daein’.
Just stand tae one side with the food an’ drink, serve anyone who waves ye over, an’ clear away any dishes that need removin’.
Otherwise… obey the orders ye’re given, an’ be quick about it. ”
She paused. “Och, an’ remember… ‘tis the laird’s orders ye follow first, then Master Ewan’s, afore any other member o’ the Council.”
That seemed simple enough. Lydia nodded. “I believe I can manage.”
“Och, I should hope so, considerin’ a lad o’ eight tae ten summers can dae it.” Maisie scoffed. “But since I’m thinkin’ o’ it… ye should ken, if ye havenae gathered already, that there’s a rule for who ye serve an’ when.”
Lydia nodded. “I supposed… I assumed that Lo-Laird Ranald’s orders were always the most important. And then… Master Ewan?”
Maisie shook her head. “Master Ewan’s third or fourth fer servants.
‘Tis second fer the warriors, but we’re nae part o’ that, unless there’s an attack on the keep, an’ that’s nae happened for some seasons now.
Nay, ye’ll heed Laird Ranald first, Laird MacEwen second—he’s a guest an’ Laird Ranald’s close friend—an’ Steward Corvin third.
Then Master Ewan an’ Healer Evelyn, unless ye’re given special duties tae attend tae one o’ them.
But ye’re nae likely tae be, since ye’re already servin’ Laird Ranald with me. ”
Lydia made note of everything Maisie told her.
She’d met Steward Corvin briefly the night before, at Maisie’s insistence.
He was a thin but sturdy man with salt-and-pepper hair and a somewhat weary and distracted manner.
However, he had been kind to her. Of course, she had no guarantee that would continue to be the case, particularly if he came to share Maisie’s obvious opinion of her skills as a maid.
Perhaps she could find a way to be taken as an assistant to the healer, Evelyn.
There were different expectations for healers, in terms of work, and while she knew it would still be difficult, she might have an easier time explaining away her lack of knowledge in certain areas by saying she had been beginning her training before leaving her previous household.
For now, however, there was work of another sort to be done, and Maisie had already turned away to continue with the daily chores. Lydia stifled a sigh, picked up her bucket, and followed her. She was already exhausted, but she dared not complain.
Perhaps the Council tonight will be easier. And even if it is not, I may learn something of Laird Ranald, and of the lands and other lords nearby. Any discomfort or embarrassment is worth the trouble, if only I can find the means to escape Rory Cameron and my uncle for good!
The rest of the day passed in a haze of work, punctuated by Maisie’s frequent, often exasperated scoldings.
The younger woman was never unkind, but she made it clear that she felt Lydia had been poorly trained and was poorly equipped for the tasks of her station.
As the first candle-mark drifted into the second, then the third, Lydia found herself agreeing.
There were so many things she needed to know, and so many things she and Elswith had never considered.
It had seemed an excellent idea at the time of her escape—no one would look for a noble lady among laborers and servants.
However, neither she nor Elswith had ever considered that she might have to not only look the part, but act it, if she wished the ruse to last long enough to evade her uncle and Laird Rory Cameron.
Working with Maisie was an eye-opening revelation for Lydia.
By the time they paused for the noon meal, she was painfully aware of just how little she understood about being a servant.
There were a thousand and one tasks that always needed doing, taken care of by people she’d hardly ever given more than a passing thought to.
And servants themselves were… not what she had imagined. She had no idea if Highland servants were different from English servants or if she had simply never noticed the truth, but Maisie was nothing like the quiet, demure, and almost invisible figure she’d expected a maid to be.
Maisie was bold, outspoken even with those that outranked her.
She offered appropriate deference, of course, but never groveled or ducked away from those that approached her.
She did what needed doing, but she did it with a straight-backed, bright-eyed and determined sense of pride, as though being a serving maid were tantamount to being a queen.
Most importantly of all, however, was the wisdom the maid imparted as they returned to their work after the noon meal.
“I can see ye dinnae have any proper experience—‘tis clear by now that nay one ever gave ye proper instruction on yer duties, an’ more fault tae them. So, I’ll teach ye as me maither taught me, startin’ when I was a young lass.
The first thing she ever told me was this— if ye dinnae ken how tae dae something, ask .
‘Tis better tae ask an’ be taught, even if ye dinnae enjoy needin’ the instruction, than tae be found lackin’ because ye cannae dae the work. ”
Lydia blushed. “When I was traveling, there were so many tasks I did not know how to dae, and I always… I thought, if I asked…” She trailed off.
“Och, whoever had yer trainin’ was a proper bampot, if they didnae teach ye tae ask when ye needed help.
Especially if they didnae realize what a shy little thing ye are—ye looked like ye wanted tae hide in a corner just askin’ me about servin’ the Council this eventide.
” Maisie shook her head. “Mayhap ‘tis different in England. But I cannae say I think much o’ the English way o’ doin’ things, if the way ye were taught is any example. ”
With Maisie’s patient assistance and willing instruction, the afternoon work passed much more smoothly, and with less anxiety on Lydia’s part.
It was still difficult, demanding, and exhausting labor, but at least she no longer feared every moment of uncertainty or incomprehension might reveal the truth.
By the time they stopped for supper, her arms, legs, shoulders and back ached fiercely, but she had learned a great deal.
Even so, she had to fight back a groan of frustration when she realized that her work was not yet done.
The arrival of several older men, all wearing clan tartans and stern expressions, reminded her of the council meeting she was supposed to serve.
She was surprised, and grateful, when Maisie slipped her two small vials, and a pot of something Lydia recognized as an ointment for soothing aches.
Maisie smiled at her expression of gratitude.
“Ye’ve much tae learn, Lydia, but I can see ye’re a willin’ worker.
‘Tis clear ye’ve made an effort, even when I could see ye were ready tae fall off yer feet.
This…” She tapped the first bottle. “...will help ease the weariness. An’ the second one will reduce the achin’ without makin’ ye sleep.
Tak’ them both afore ye go tae the council chamber.
The ointment ye can save for later. ‘Tis best applied after a hot bath. Ye’ll want tae visit the bathin’ chamber after the meeting, I’ll wager. ”
“Aye.” The word was easier to remember to say instead of ‘yes’ than it had been several hours ago. Maisie’s smile widened and she gave Lydia a quick one-armed embrace.
“Och, listen tae ye. We’ll have ye speakin’ an’ workin’ like a proper Highland lass soon enough.” The maid released her and shooed Lydia toward the corridor. “Go on now, ‘tis best if ye’re there an’ waitin’ afore the laird and the Elders arrive.”
Lydia nodded and hurried down the corridors as fast as her aching feet and legs would allow.
The tonics Maisie had given her tasted foul, foul enough for her to wish she had a cup of wine to wash away the taste, but she could tell by the herbs they contained that they would help, so she finished them without complaint, before tucking the ointment into her apron pocket.