Page 13 of The Secret of Drulea Cottage

Freda looked at her husband like he had lost his mind. “What? Daniel, I have to talk to hernow!She has to fix this!”

Briony saw Daniel’s face shift to anger, so she jumped in to keep them from getting into a full-fledged argument. “Most o’ those things sound pretty normal, but if you’d like, I can discuss them with you in more detail once Adaira and I finish with our errand.”

The spark in Freda’s eyes faded a bit. “Normal, you say? Well, I’m sure that after you hearallthe details, you shall na think everything is so normal! But fine, I’ll expect you later this afternoon, then.”

Daniel let out a frustrated breath, turning to follow his wife as she waddled away with as much pomp as an eight-months-pregnant woman could muster.

Adaira looked at Briony with wide eyes. “Is she always like that?”

Briony pursed her lips and nodded.

“I’m so glad I don’ have yer job. I would na be able to handle hearing that all the time.”

“I barely can either…” Briony’s attention shifted to four men at a new merchant ship by the dock. They were swaying back and forth as they struggled to carry a large piano down the gangplank. She watched them for a moment, worried they would drop it.

There’s only one person in town wasteful enough to buy a piano. I hope he’s na nearby—

“Put yer backs into it, men! You’d think you were my age with how much trouble yer having!”

Laird Oliver.

Despite the distance between them, Briony’s gut clenched with dread. If the man saw her, he would surely find a new way to make her feel like she was lower than a worm. He was currently preoccupied, but that could change at any second, so Briony grabbed Adaira’s arm to get them moving again.

Though Everton was one of the smallest settlements on the island of North Ronaldsay, it wasn’t small enough to avoid having a laird. These men who owned large estates of land often served as unofficial leaders of their towns. And since Joseph Oliver was the village’s only laird, he and his wife seemed to think they could make people do whatever they pleased.

If only the lairdship o’ Harray was na passed on through blood, the rest o’ the town would be much better off.

Briony preferred the wiser counsel of Mr. McGuff and Dr. Sherwin at the town meetings; they were far more apt to offer ideas that benefited all of Everton, not just the Olivers.

Na that anyone cares about my opinion. I could probably just na show up and no one would notice.

The smell of burning kelp hit Briony’s nose as she and Adaira strode toward their destination. Laird Oliver had heard that many lairds in other towns had gotten rich selling the ash, so it hadn’t taken long for him to convince many of the villagers this was the best way to preserve Everton’s economy throughout the summer. Now the scent was so familiar that Briony barely even noticed it as it traveled up from the shore. Some families would spend as many as eight hours burning seaweed every day before letting it cool overnight. Then they would break the ash into lumps and send it south to be turned into soap and glass.[14]

“…do the talking when we arrive, all right? Briony?”

“What?” Briony turned to Adaira in surprise. “Sorry, I did na realize you were speaking.”

“Isaid, ‘Let me do the talking.’ It takes nary a minute to rile you up, and I don’ want yer temper spoiling our chances o’ getting information.”

“Fine,” Briony muttered.

When they reached Nathaniel Levins’s dilapidated house, loud voices met their ears. If it had been anyone else’s home, Briony might have been concerned. However, she knew that all these men ever did was shout at each other; if they didn’t, they wouldn’t be able to hear well enough to carry on a conversation.

“Get the door, Angus!” croaked one of the men when Adaira knocked. The door squeaked open, with old Angus Dunnet standing on the inside. His gray hair was thin and messy, matching his scatterbrained personality.

Straining her neck to see over Mr. Dunnet’s shoulder, Briony barely got a glimpse of the man’s companions: Nathaniel Levins, Steven McLaren, and Phillip McGuff. They were all seated around a small footlocker in the living room, apparently playing a card game.

“Hello there, Adaira. Yer interrupting us from somethingveryimportant. What brings you here?” Mr. Dunnet asked, completely ignoring Briony.

“I’ve come fer information I thought you or one o’ yer friends might be able to give,” Adaira said.

“Do you have news from the Mainland?”[15]Steven McLaren called, his eyes still on his cards.

“Nay, I don’ have any news.”

“Are those English dogs finally going to give up Scotland?”[16]Mr. Levins interjected.

Briony stepped out from behind Adaira. “She clearly just said we don’ have any news, Mr. Levins.”