“I am no swindler!”
“Then pay me the agreed-upon amount,” Laurel insisted. The door opened behind her, and several feminine voices carried to her. Laurel’s stomach tightened into a knot, recognizing them as belonging to a handful of ladies-in-waiting. She wondered why they were in town so close to the evening meal, when most of the merchants would be packing up their shops in the market. She needed to hurry if she was to make it to the other merchant.
“I have customers,” the haberdasher hissed. “Give me the gowns and take what I offer. Then be gone with you.”
Laurel didn’t budge. She knew the ladies wouldn’t recognize her, since they would never imagine Laurel would dress so plainly. Laurel waited, but the man didn’t intend to pull out more coins. When he made to step around her, Laurel flipped open her satchel and turned to the young women.
“Ma ladies,” Laurel greeted them, infusing her natural burr back into her accent. “Ye must be from the castle,” Laurel gushed.
When the women turned toward her, their disgust at the Highlander brogue plain on their faces, she pulled the first gown from her bag. She held it up beside her, twisting it from side to side to catch the sunlight on the embellishments. She took a tentative step forward and lowered her chin.
“I canna say the three kirtles I have are so fine as what ye wear,” Laurel demurred, despite recognizing two of her own creations in the group. “But I am newly a widow, and I must sell ma wares to feed ma weans.”
Laurel didn’t flinch when the haberdasher released a stream of curses that made the young women titter. She felt no remorse for her scheme. If the man hadn’t attempted to shortchange her, assuming she didn’t know how to count as high as one hundred pounds, she wouldn’t have taken such delight in the tale she was spinning.
“The mon here quoted me a price, then tried to fool me by nae paying what we agreed upon. Is that how they be here in Stirling?”
“Nay,” Lady Sarah Anne Hay stepped forward, wearing one of Laurel’s designs. As the leader of the younger ladies-in-waiting, Laurel had known she would insist upon being the first one to inspect the gown. “The stitching is quite fine.”
Laurel bobbed a shallow curtsy, “Thank ye, ma lady.”
“Such a gown would easily sell for fifty pounds,” Lady Sarah Anne said as she fingered the material. “How many did you say you have?”
“Three, ma lady.” Laurel laid the gown over her forearm as she pulled out the next one to several oohs and ahhs. The gown was finer than the first one she’d shown the group. She watched as several women ran their fingers over the velvet and whispered to one another. When she felt the excitement crescendo, she presented herpièce de résistance. The satin and velvet gown was a deep amethyst hue with Opus Anglicanum along the hem and train of the skirts, and embroidery covered the bodice. This was the gown that merited the price she’d demanded.
“This is exquisite,” Lady Margaret Hay, Sarah Anne’s older sister, murmured. “Even Lady Laurel doesn’t have something so fine.”
Of course she doesnae. She sells any gown this extravagant. To this day, I dinna understand how nay one realizes that they see me in the same five kirtles season after season, year after year. All I do is change out the ribbons and laces. I suppose the different embroidered patterns helps. But still. Daft lot they are.
“I shall take them,” Sarah Anne announced.
“Them, ma lady?” Laurel infused surprise and uncertainty into her voice.
“Aye. One hundred and sixty pounds is what I’m willing to pay for the three,” Sarah Anne announced. Laurel’s stomach flipped in excitement. She knew the amount was more than most serfs saw in a lifetime, and it was more than any of her clansmen were used to seeing. But the Hays had a long-standing reputation at court, and it was rarely for the better. Sarah Anne and Margaret’s uncle had once tried to abduct Deirdre Fraser to carry out a proposed betrothal. Deirdre’s husband, Magnus Sinclair, had ridden to her rescue, and Archibald Hay died for his scheming. It had been a scandal that rocked the court not long after Laurel arrived.
Sarah Anne loosened a pouch of coins from her girdle and handed it over to Laurel, who shook it and weighed it in her palm. She pulled the strings apart and peered into the small sack. Just as she suspected, there was far more than the amount Sarah Anne offered.
“Are ye certain, ma lady? That is a small fortune ye’re offering me,” Laurel said.
Ignoring Laurel’s questions, Sarah Anne squinted at Laurel, as though she would try to see through Laurel’s veil. The material was so thick that it was difficult for Laurel to see through it at times, but it completely obscured her features. “Have you more such as these?” Sarah Anne asked.
“Nae at the moment, ma lady. But I can,” Laurel hedged.
Sarah Anne nodded twice before reaching for the gowns, which she dumped in her sister’s outstretched arms. Laurel couldn’t help but think how similar Sarah Anne and Margaret’s relationship was to how Myrna had once treated Laurel herself. But Laurel wasn’t interested in observing the sisters or continuing a conversation. She dropped into a deep but purposely wobbly curtsy and slipped from the shop without looking back.
This will last me through autumn. It’ll last me through winter and into the new year if I’m frugal.
The relief that washed over Laurel was nearly palpable. She’d been growing desperate as of late. She’d had plenty of trade, but many of the merchants who frequented Stirling only came in the summer months. The leaves were beginning to change, and Laurel feared she wouldn’t have enough stashed away before she was forced to rely on merchants such as the haberdasher, a Stirling resident. Just as she had that morning, she hurried back to her chamber where her maid, Ina, helped her prepare for the evening meal. Laurel knew that Ina was aware of Laurel’s sewing, since the woman had seen Laurel’s handiwork appear on her own gowns countless times, but they agreed via mutual silence never to discuss it.
Ina Ross had known Laurel since she was a babe and chose to remain her maid, even after Laird Ross offered Ina the chance to return to Balnagown. Laurel tried to show Ina her gratitude, but it still surprised Laurel that she had remained after the way Laurel treated everyone upon her arrival at court. While she supposed Ina’s loyalty was grounded in pity, Laurel accepted the only reliable link she had to the Highlands. With a last glance in the looking glass, Laurel squeezed Ina’s hand before making her way to the Great Hall.
