“Ye cannae even imagine the shock I received when yer mother wrote, asking if ye could come for the summer. It was so unexpected. After she’s kept ye from me all these years.
“And I’ve been so worried aboot what ye’ll think of me, or what yer parents have told ye that... And Gavin, well. Ye cannot blame him. Ultimately, it was my own pride that made me do it. But I certainly dinnae do it right, did I? And it’s beenagony today, ye see, worrying that I’ve made ye think ill of me...”
Her grandmother reached out a wrinkled hand to set on Arabella’s shoulder. But at the last moment she drew back as if worried her touch wouldn’t be welcome.
Arabella’s heart pricked, remembering the way her grandmother had hugged her yesterday, even sopping wet and muddy as she’d been. Now the woman didn’t even dare touch her. And she recalled, with some shame, the first words she’d spoken to her. Some bitter comment about Scotland. No wonder the woman was hesitant.
And so, biting back her pride, Arabella said, “I need to apologize as well. I’ve been arrogant and judgmental...and, well, I think you know my parents sent me here as a punishment. But that is no excuse for my behavior since my arrival. No excuse formepunishingyou.”
Grandmother shook her head. “Ye could never be a punishment, lass. ’Tis a blessing tae have ye here.” She looked at Arabella with undeniable hope. “Do ye think we might begin again?”
Mr. McKenzie’s advice from this morning echoed in her head again.
Do not let whatever your parents told ye keep ye from spending time with her and getting tae know her.
Arabella bit her cheek. She’d had every intention of interacting with her grandmother as little as possible this summer. She wouldn’t be rude, just reserved. Distantly polite.
But she’d never intended to get to know her.
Admitting that made Arabella feel unexpectedly callous. What other person, offering to play hostess to her for several months, would she treat with such indifference? And how had she come to the decision that she wouldn’t make an effort with her own grandmother?
Because her parents, whether they’d said it aloud or not, had made it perfectly clear she wasn’t worth knowing.
Arabella wasn’t sure exactly what it was that made up her mind. Perhaps it was regret for the way she’d acted. Perhaps it was a desire to contradict her parents. She didn’t wish to examine her motives too carefully.
But she nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. “Let’s begin again.”
Her grandmother smiled, wrinkles gathering in the corners of her eyes.
It was such a small thing Arabella had offered, but seeing how much it meant made her determined to make good on her word.
Grandmother picked up the brush from the dressing table. “May I?”
Surprised, Arabella nodded.
One by one, she removed Arabella’s hairpins, then began brushing her hair in long strokes. Her withered hands were capable and strong, but she was gentle, brushing all the way from Arabella’s scalp to the ends of her hair.
Arabella closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing ministrations.
“This was yer mother’s room, ye know,” Grandmother said quietly.
Arabella opened her eyes, curious. She looked around, trying to imagine her mother here. Mother, who never said a word about the past. Who never spoke of Scotland without derision in her tone.
Grandmother continued brushing. “I used tae do this for her every night while she sat in that verra seat.”
“Did she not have a lady’s maid?”
Her grandmother’s eyes grew distant. “Ach, yes. But I loved tae do it. I think yer hair is even thicker though. So long and lustrous.”
“It’s impossible to manage,” Arabella retorted.
“It’s beautiful.” She gave a sad sort of smile. “Yeare beautiful. Almost hurts me tae look at ye.”
The ghost of her mother’s memory lingered between them, and Arabella couldn’t meet her grandmother’s eyes in the mirror. Nor could she think of what to say.
But Grandmother seemed content to talk, her soft Scottish brogue rolling over her words. “I’ve a portrait of her down in the gallery. Painted when she was just a wee bit younger than ye. I can show ye tomorrow, if ye’d like tae see it.”
Arabella had so many questions about her mother, so much she wanted to understand but didn’t. “Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”
