Lorna closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead even though the nauseating pound of earlier appeared to be letting up. Apparently, Mrs. Thistlewick’s remedies bordered on the miraculous.
She eyed the frustrated child, trying to come up with the words to help her understand. “Ye canna fight emotions with logic, my fine wee lass. When someone is trapped in the clutches of their emotions, those fears and feelings are all that make sense to them. The irrational becomes rational. I know this from experience.”
The child snorted her disagreement. “But will ye help me get rid of her?”
“Aye, but remember it’s the dead of winter and the ground is frozen, so it will be harder to bury the body.”
Ebby gasped, but Bella looked hopeful.
“A joke, Ebby,” Lorna hurried to explain. “It was a joke.”
“A joke?”
Lorna silently cursed whatever force had brought her back to the past without a seventeenth-century dictionary or thesaurus. “A jest. It was a jest.”
Ebby relaxed, but Bella seemed disappointed.
Deciding it prudent to steer the child away from the option of murder, Lorna shooed her off the bed. “Away wi’ ye now. While I rest, go be thinking about what it would take to convince yer da to boot Lady Murdina and her weasel of a brother out of the keep—without killing them, ye ken?”
Bella’s eyes narrowed, and she bobbed her head. “I will think on it.” She lunged forward and wrapped Lorna in a tight hug. “Frances and Hesther were right. Ye are the kindest of the kind.” Then she skipped out the door, humming under her breath.
“Would it be all right if I sit in the window to let out yer skirts?” Ebby asked. “The light in here is so much better than in my room.”
Lorna slid back down in the bed, curled over onto her side, and hugged the pillow. “What skirts? I dinna have any.”
“Oh, aye, ye do.” Ebby opened both doors of the wardrobe. “Just look at all ye have. Himself gave orders for the trunks to be brought out and the clothes altered to fit ye.” She beamed proudly as she ran a hand across the neatly folded items and those hanging on the pegs. “I dinna think it will take much work at all to make all these yer own.”
An uneasiness took hold as Lorna’s suspicions grew. Even though she didn’t want to hear the truth, she had to know. “Ye said he ordered the trunks brought out?”
Ebby nodded as she bit a thread, then plucked it out of the hem of the deep blue material bunched in her lap.
“So, I assume that means they had been in storage somewhere?”
“Aye. In the tunnels and eaves off of himself’s rooms.” Ebby angled the material closer to the window and pulled at more threads.
There was no other thing to do but just say it. “Which wife did they belong to?” Lorna asked, inwardly cringing as she waited for the answer.
Ebby looked up from her work and smiled. “Both, actually. And fortune smiled upon ye, mistress. Both Lady Mariella and Lady Corinna, God rest their souls”—she crossed herself—“were tall, regal ladies. Much like yerself.”
“Aye, fortune smiled on me, all right.” Lorna covered her eyes again and stifled a groan. In theory, she understood nothing could be allowed to go to waste, but she did not want to wear the clothes of Gunn’s dead wives. That was just…wrong. “Are ye certain that willna bother…himself?”
“Why no. The chieftain is the one who ordered them fitted for ye.” Ebby fluffed out the material and smoothed a hand across it. “He wasna ready until now to see them put to good use again.” She smiled. “’Tis a good sign, mistress. Our poor chief has struggled for many a year with all that he has lost.”
“I am sure he has.” Lorna rolled to her other side and curled into a tighter ball. Whether it was Mrs. Thistlewick’s concoction, the burned bread, or the willow bark tea that had tamed her pounding head and churning stomach, she didn’t know. But she felt loads better than she had. Except now, she was more aware of the worrisome knot in the center of her chest.
Life had gone so horribly wrong. Yet if it hadn’t, she never would have met Gunn. At first sight, his handsomeness had struck her, but it wasn’t his raw alpha maleness that held her attention. No. It was the uncanny ease of talking to him. Even though they had just met, it seemed like she had known him all her life. Like a long-lost friend she hadn’t seen in ages who couldn’t wait to catch up on all they had missed. How the devil could that be?
“Will ye wish to wash yer face and hands before ye change for the feast?” Ebby shook out the skirt and draped it across the back of the chair.
“Aye.” Lorna pushed herself back to a sitting position. “I also need a visit to the toi—uhm…chamber pot. Is it here under the bed?” That was where it was usually stored in the history books she had read.
“Oh no, mistress. Here in the wash cupboard. See?” With her mending basket tucked under her arm, the maid opened a narrow door Lorna hadn’t noticed in the corner on the other side of the wardrobe. “I already lit the candle for ye and put fresh water in the pitcher. More is warming in the kettle on the fire.” She pointed at several covered crocks on the stand with the basin. “Mrs. Thistlewick’s daughter makes the best soaps and herbals to keep yer lady bits and oxters fresh.” Then she pointed at a chest squatting in the corner. “Top drawer has everything ye need to clean off after the chamber pot, and I stocked the bottom two drawers with rags for yer courses.” Ebby beamed with pride. “Mrs. Thistlewick checked and said I didna forget a single thing, but if ye need anything else, ye will tell me, aye?”
“Aye,” Lorna agreed softly, somewhat overcome by the seventeenth-century lady’s room and all it entailed. The challenges of personal hygiene and her monthlies hadn’t crossed her mind until now. Never had she missed her favorite deodorant and tampons so much in her life. And a toothbrush and toothpaste. Her mouth tasted like someone had shite in it.
“Is something wrong, mistress?” Ebby peered at her, her pale brown brows drawn together over her worried eyes. “Did I forget something?”
“No. Nothing wrong.” Lorna shook free of the shocking realizations and motioned toward the short cabinet. “I am just not certain how to find the chamber pot. That sort of cabinet is new to me.”
