By day’s end the hall was cleaner than it had been in years. But while Cicely had worked side by side with her new maidservants, old Mab had sent for several of her older relations, for she was determined that the lady not spend another uncomfortable night in the hall. Mab meant to see that the bedchamber was ready for an occupant.
Gabhan spent half of his day in the chimney that drew the hearth in the bedchamber. He swept the passage free of soot, and removed several birds’ nests, one built on top of another. Then he lit a small torch and, stooping down, held it to see if the chimney would now draw properly. When he saw it did he notified Mab, and immediately a trio of women he recognized as his own kin hurried to the chamberwith mops, buckets, and brooms to sweep, wash, and dust its furniture, window, and floor.
By day’s end the bedchamber was clean, a bright fire burning merrily in its hearth. The room had a lead-paned double window that could be opened by swinging the twin halves out. The window had a wide stone sill. There was a large, comfortable oak bed-stead with a tall linen-fold headboard and two turned posts at its foot to hold up the plain wood canopy. The natural-colored linen bed curtains that old Mab found in a trunk had seen better days, but they were clean and serviceable. Mab set Gabhan to polishing the brass curtain rings, and when he was done the bed curtains were hung.
There was a small round oak table by the bed. It was now topped by a small brass candlestick that contained a short beeswax candle. There was a beautiful brass-bound trunk at the foot of the bed and a single tapestry-backed oak chair by the hearth. The rope springs on the bed were tightened, and a newly made mattress placed upon it, along with a feather bed. Fresh linens, plump pillows, and a warm comforter completed the bed.
Mab came to inspect her relations’ hard work. “Ah, cousins, you’ve done well, and I thank you for it. Her Ladyship will be most comfortable here.”
“You like the lass,” one of her kin said. “I saw her in the hall with my daughter and the others scrubbing with her own hands. For all she is a lady she has no fear of hard work,” the woman noted approvingly.
“She’ll make a grand mistress for Glengorm House,” Mab said.
“If she’ll have him,” another of the women said. “I heard the king is sending to fetch her back to her mistress, the queen.”
“The laird needs but a bit of time with her,” Mab replied. “He’ll win her over.”
“I hope our laird does,” the first woman agreed.
“She looks strong too,” the third woman said. “She’ll give Glengormheirs. I’ll not rest easy until we have them, and know we’re safe for another generation.”
The others nodded in agreement with her. Then Mab had them pick up their brooms, buckets, and mops, and they returned them to the kitchens, departing for their own cottages in the village. Cicely had sent the maidservants home just before dark. The servants’ quarters weren’t ready for them yet, and after all the hard work they had done that day she felt they deserved a comfortable bed to sleep in this night.
Mab came back up from the kitchens to see Cicely walking slowly about the hall, taking the measure of it, inspecting it all, her hand running over an ancient sideboard as she wore a smile that bespoke her pleasure in a job well-done. “My lady,” Mab addressed the girl.
Cicely looked up. “Aye, Mab, what is it?”
“Will you come with me for but a moment, my lady?” And when Cicely nodded Mab led her upstairs and to the chamber that had once been the room of Ian and Fergus Douglas’s mother. Opening the door, she ushered the girl inside. “We cleaned and freshened the chamber today. You cannot continue to sleep in the hall, my lady. ’Tis not right that you should. This chamber belonged to the lady before you,” she said.
Cicely looked slowly around. The fire had warmed the room. Beyond the windows she saw the blazing horizon, the sun gone. The room had been aired. The floors were spotless. And the bed! Ohh, how comfortable that bed looked. She was startled to feel Mab’s hand touch hers. The old lady was handing her a key.
“ ’Tis yours, my lady,” she said quietly. “The door can be locked from the inside.”
“Is there a tub that might be brought to this chamber so I could bathe?” she asked. “I am filthy from my travels, and especially from my exertions today.”
“Will you bathe now or after the meal?” Mab asked her.
“After,” Cicely quickly said. “ ’Twill give everyone more time toprepare it for me. Oh, Mab! How can I thank you for this? And you must thank your helpers too.”
Mab smiled, very well pleased. This was the first step in making the lady comfortable, and certainly she would be more amenable if she were content at Glengorm. But instead she said, “It were a mercy you didn’t catch an ague in that hall last night.”
“You were there too,” Cicely replied, knowing who had kept the fire going, and who had covered her with that thick woolen shawl. “It seems I owe you much.”
“After the meal I’ll take your garments, my lady, wash what I can, and brush what I can’t,” Mab told her. Then she bustled off, leaving Cicely to examine her chamber more closely.
The meal that evening was a merry one. Suddenly there were men-at-arms coming into the hall to be fed. The word had quickly spread that Bethia had been sent home, and that Mab was cooking again without interference. There was venison stew, bread, and cheese below the high board. There was a capon and trout at the high board, along with a salad of braised lettuces, bread, butter, and cheese. And Mab had found the time to bake apples for the laird, which she knew were his favorite. Ale flowed generously to the men. Cicely drank red wine.
Father Ambrose, true to his word, was the first into the hall, and ready for his meal. He did it full justice, mopping his pewter plate with bread until it seemed as clean as if it had been scoured in the kitchen sink with sand. There were six baked apples, and having devoured two the priest gleefully took the last one from the platter as the laird eyed it for himself. Ian’s look of disappointment, and the priest’s chortle of triumph, made Cicely laugh. Ambrose Douglas grinned conspiratorially at her.
“Is not greed a sin?” the laird asked dryly.
“I’ll give myself a penance,” Ambrose replied. He turned to Cicely. “Will you come to Mass in the morning? I have a small church in the village, and I say the Mass daily. If you follow the path from thehouse down the hill you will find the church at its foot. I will absolve you from daily attendance for now, but do come and satisfy the villagers’ curiosity. Bethia is claiming you are a wicked whore, while those who have met you cannot say enough good things about your character,” the priest told her.
“I’ll have Mab awaken me,” Cicely said. Then she arose from the board. “I would go to my chamber, my lord. I am exhausted, and I have a lovely bath waiting.”
The laird nodded. “The hall has not looked so well in my entire lifetime,” he told her. “Thank you.”
Cicely curtsied, and departed their company.
