“Do you love this Andrew Gordon?” the priest inquired.
Cicely hesitated. Then she answered candidly, “Nay, I do not believe that I do. But you know that love is not the point of marriage. Marriage is for procreation. Matches are made for wealth, land, power, good Father.”
“More’s the pity,” the priest answered her, thinking she was a true daughter of privilege and had been well taught. “It is said that the king loves his queen. Is that so?”
“Oh, yes, he loves her deeply, and she him,” Cicely said. “And my own father loved my mother, but when he married a second time it was for more practical reasons.”
The priest sighed. “So you have two men who would have you to wife. One has declared his love for you. Has the other?”
Cicely shook her head in the negative. “Nay, Andrew has not said he loves me.”
“You say you would wed for sensible reasons,” Father Ambrose said. “And you claim to love neither of your suitors. Yet you must wed, so why would you not wed the man who claims he loves you as opposed to the one who has not said those three words so dear to a maiden’s simple heart?”
His argument gave Cicely pause for thought.
“At last!” Ian gloated. “Someone to take my side in this matter.”
“Of course he would take your side,” Cicely snapped. “He is your blood kin.”
“If Mab is going to continue to cook like this,” the priest said, “I shall take my meals with you.” He snatched up the last crust of bread, scraped the remaining butter from its stone crock with his thumb, and spread it over the bread before popping it into his mouth, chewing with great relish.
When Tam and Artair had cleared the table, Mab returned to the hall with a group of young men and women. “Good morrow, my lord, my lady, Father Ambrose,” she said. “I have brought you this group of men and women eager to enter your service, my lord, my lady. They are hardworking and honest, and will not steal, like someothers who shall remain unmentioned.” Tam had told Mab of Cicely’s intuitive remark. She curtsied to the laird, and waved half a dozen girls forward. “I should like Bessie and Flora to remain in the kitchens with me. Sine, Sesi, Una, and Effie are more than competent to work above stairs, if it please Your Ladyship.” She curtsied again.
Cicely turned to Ian. “My lord?”
“ ’Tis your choice, ladyfaire,” he replied.
“They are all Mab’s nearest kin, and good choices,” Father Ambrose murmured softly.
“The laird is pleased to welcome these girls into his service. And Tam and Artair have done well this morning. Who are the others, Mab?” Cicely asked the old lady.
“My nephew’s lad, Gabhan, who will sweep the chimneys and keep the knives sharp,” she said, pulling Gabhan forward. He ducked his head to the high board.
“He looks a fine lad,” Cicely responded. “He is welcome.”
“The other lads will care for the stables, my lady,” Mab told her.
“You have done well, Mab, and the laird thanks you. Thank you all.” She stood up from the high board. “Come along, lasses. We have a full day’s work ahead of us.”
“You will work with them?” The laird was surprised.
“I am nobly born and nobly raised, Ian Douglas,” Cicely said. “But I was brought up in the household of Queen Joan of Navarre, who did not tolerate sloth or idleness. She believed that for a woman to direct her household she must know exactly how all that needed to be done was done. I will teach these lasses the proper way to keep your household so that when I return to Perth your home will not fall into slovenliness again.”
“Ah, nephew, I see your lass is a stubborn girl,” the priest said softly, and he chuckled wickedly. It was a most unpriestly sound.
“When that time comes, ladyfaire, you will not want to return to Perth,” the laird said, “for your heart will be mine, as mine is already yours.”
Cicely shook her head. “I have never known a man so big or so softhearted as you are, my lord. You are a conundrum.” But she gave him a small smile as she turned and, gathering the young maidservants to her, began to direct them in their duties.
“You have discovered a treasure for yourself, Ian,” the priest said, low. “Now you must find a way to keep her. Will the king send after her?”
“Undoubtedly,” the laird answered his uncle. “My ladyfaire is Queen Joan’s best friend. They were raised together.”
“Sweet Jesu!” the priest exclaimed. “Could you not have fallen in love with an ordinary lady, nephew? Aye, they’ll be coming for her, and for your head as well.”
“She’s mine,” Ian Douglas said, and his eyes went to Cicely, who was now showing the new maidservants the proper way to polish his ancient oak sideboard. “Look at her, Uncle. Does she not belong here in this hall directing her staff? I will give her anything she wants to make this the home to suit her.”
“Perhaps if you get lucky we’ll have an early winter, and they’ll have to leave her until the spring. That will give you time to work your wiles on the lady. Aye, that’s your only hope, Ian. And I’m going to pray for it,” Ambrose Douglas said.
