“My name is Agnes, my lady,” the midwife said, and she curtsied to Cicely.
The two women hurried upstairs. Mab had already seen the cradle from the attics brought into the bedchamber. Sesi had cleaned it thoroughly, and Sine had brought fresh straw in from the stables to line the cradle. The straw was covered by a piece of wool, which was topped with a softer cloth. A black iron pot of water was heating over the flames in the hearth. There were clean clothes and a little flask of oil on a table.
Maggie lay upon the bed groaning with her labor, but Agnes the midwife, upon examining her, nodded, pleased. “You’ll birth this bairn in no time, my lady, and you’re made for birthing, I’ll vow.”
“Cicely,” Maggie called, “take my lord downstairs to the hall and stay with him. Look at his face. He frets, and needs not.”
“I’ll come back,” Cicely said.
“Nay,” Maggie told her. “You’re still a maid, and have not been raised in a house with birthing women. ’Tis better you remain in the hall. I’ll have them call you back when the bairn is born, and you’ll carry it to its sire.Please.”
“She’s perfectly right,” Orva agreed. “I’m not needed here, as Mab and Agnes and Sine are perfectly capable. I’ll go with you, and when my lord Grey is settled with the laird and Sir William, you and I will come upstairs to unpack your trunk.”
“Very well,” Cicely agreed.
Lord Grey kissed his wife’s damp brow, and murmured something that caused her to smile. Then he departed the bedchamber, assuring Cicely he could find his way downstairs to the hall by himself. “Go and tend to yourself, madam,” he said.
Together Cicely and Orva hurried to her chamber. The trunk the tiring woman had brought had been set at the foot of the bed next to the other little trunk.
“You were wise to bring my possessions,” Cicely said.
“I brought them all,” Orva replied, “including your horses, my lady. I did not think it advisable to leave anything, for you know how some of the younger girls are.”
“It seems I will be remaining at Glengorm, at least for the interim,” Cicely said, and then she went on to explain the conversation she had had with Sir William and the laird. “It is somewhat disconcerting to know I can be replaced so easily in the laird of Fairlea’s heart,” she finished wryly.
“He had no care for you, my lady,” Orva said. “It was your dower, not just your beautiful face, that attracted him, and frankly I am notcertain which came first, but I do know which he valued more: your dower.”
“You did not say it before!” Cicely accused her tiring woman.
“You appeared to be seriously considering the man, and I did not want to interfere with that decision, for your father made it plain that the choice was to be yours alone,” Orva defended herself. “And the laird of Fairlea was a gentleman who would have treated you well had you wed him.”
“And the laird of Glengorm?” Cicely asked.
“I do not know him well enough yet to render you my opinion should you desire it,” Orva responded. “But you have been in his house for over ten days now, and he has not attempted to force himself upon you. Indeed, he has given you free rein over his household and his servants. That alone speaks well of him.”
“The house was a pigsty when I arrived!” Cicely exclaimed. “There was no one in service but Mab and that wretched creature Bethia, who was stealing from the laird’s stores to profit herself, and bullying poor Mab as well.”
“And the laird gave you permission to do what you would with his house?” Orva asked, curious. “He might have left you to languish in the wretched slough, but he didn’t, did he?” Orva pointed out.
“Indeed, he told me that if I didn’t like his house to make it over to suit myself,” Cicely admitted. “And now he says that half my dower portion will remain in my hands. I will confess to you, Orva, that this reckless rogue of a border lord is beginning to intrigue me, for I do not believe I have ever met a man like him.”
“And I think your interest in him is far greater than your interest in your Gordon laird ever was,” Orva replied.
Cicely nodded. “Perhaps you are right,” she said. “But I cannot help but wonder if my father would approve such a match. He is an earl, a noble of high rank. Ian Douglas is naught but a simple border lord. And how my stepmother will crow with delight should I wed aplain border lord. I am certain she is already planning an important match for my baby half sister.”
Orva sighed. “May I speak plainly, my lady?” And when Cicely nodded she continued, “ ’Tis true your sire is an earl who springs from an ancient line, but your mam, God assoil her good soul, was the daughter of your father’s steward. They were blood kin, ’tis true, but your mother’s family were not noble. You were fortunate in that your father loved your mother, and sought to wed her. That he saw you were made legitimate when she died, and raised you as his own. That you were placed in a great household and became the dearest friend of a girl who is now a queen. It was unlikely that there was any great match for you here in Scotland. Lady Joan sought to have you with her because she was going into a strange situation and wanted her friend. And in England you would have had to be satisfied with a second or third son. Here at least you can wed a propertied lordling, and be mother to his heirs. And that being said, you should marry the man you love, or at least one who loves you.”
“I love no man,” Cicely said.
“Mayhap if you gave your laird a chance . . .” Orva began.
“He is notmylaird!” Cicely responded firmly.
Orva smiled and, opening the trunk, she began taking out the garments she had so carefully packed for her mistress. “Mab tells me there is a small chamber next to this one. With your permission I shall take it so I can be within call.”
“ ’Tis not my house,” Cicely said. “You must ask the laird.”
Orva smiled again. Her mistress had always been a stubborn girl, but in the end she would come around.And I will ask the laird,she thought to herself.
