“The name’s McKenna.”
“Mrs McKenna. I have a basket for you, something small, nothing special—” Birdie handed her the basket. The woman took it reluctantly.
“I didna expect—” She interrupted herself. Evidently, Birdie didn’t fulfil her expectation of what a duchess should look like. The woman looked down at the basket.
“I hope you like this. I apologise for the selection. I made the biscuits myself. I thought, maybe the children would like them.”
A look of surprise crossed the woman’s face. “Ye made these yersel?”
“Yes. I rather enjoy baking.”
“Ye bake these yersel?” she repeated. Birdie nodded. The woman took a biscuit out and bit into it. “It’s… good.” The note of surprise in her voice grew.
“I whiled away much of my time in the kitchen where I grew up. Sometimes I helped Cook cut out biscuits. I like to add some lavender to them. It gives them this extra special taste…” Her voice petered out as she took in the woman’s abode.
It was dark and dank inside. Aside from a straw pallet where a bulky figure lay, the room had only a rickety table with two chairs and a shelf with pots. She’d never seen such poverty. Birdie tore her gaze away and smiled at the woman.
“I’m Eilidh McKenna,” the woman snapped.
“Eilidh. What a pretty name. Are these your children?” Birdie turned to the three urchins that had crowded around them, curiously looking at her. She gave them some biscuits, which they took shyly.
“Aye.”
“Eilidh, I was wondering if you could be of assistance to me. The castle is sadly understaffed. Do you know where I can find people who might be willing to help out?”
Eilidh’s eyes grew. She looked away. “No. Naebody would work… up there.”
“Eilidh!” a rough voice sounded from inside. It seemed to belong to the bulky figure lying on the bed. “Who is this?”
The figure rose from the bed and walked towards them. He was a rough-looking man.
“My husband,” Eilidh explained. “Logan, this is the new duchess. She’s brought us a basket.” Logan was tall and would have been a good-looking fellow if he groomed himself better. His auburn hair stuck out in all directions. His beard was matted and tangled. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of alcohol. Birdie took an involuntary step back.
“We don’t need no basket. We don’t need no duchess neither,” Logan snapped.
His wife pulled him back into the house. “Oh, whisht. This is for the bairns. And look, a bottle of wine.” Logan took the bottle, uncorked it and sniffed at it. He shot Birdie a mistrustful look.
“As I was telling your wife, I am looking for people to hire,” Birdie said nervously as she fiddled with her shawl.
“Nae.”
“But why?”
“I forbid it.”
“Excuse me, Mr McKenna, but it’s not up to you whether I hire people in the castle or not.”
He shrugged.
“I happen to need a maid,” Birdie continued. “A housekeeper. And a cook. And two, or three, or more people who clean up the place. You would be paid, of course.”
Eilidh’s head snapped up. “Paid?”
“Of course. Make no mistake, his Grace will pay any retainers he hires. He won’t be ungenerous. Well, I have to go. If you know anyone who might be interested in work, be sure to let me know.”
Birdie hesitated. For a moment, she hoped Eilidh would speak. But no, Eilidh shot a fearful look at her husband, who was drinking directly out of the bottle of wine.
“Nae is nae, and that is nae,” he said and burped.
