The woman blinked at her, but then smiled warmly. “Ah. Ye must be the new Lady McNeill. Word said ye were pretty. They did not say ye were fierce.”
“I am nae fierce,” Ariella said, though she suspected Maxwell might disagree.
“Aye, me husband says the same about me,” the woman laughed. “I just never listen to him either. I am Mairi Hendry. Cook.”
Hendry. Ariella paused, thinking. “Isla and Ewan’s maither?”
“Aye. Those two devils,” Mairi said fondly. “Callum, me husband, is the blacksmith.”
Ariella stared at her, shocked. “Ye have two children already?”
“And one more here,” Mairi said, patting her belly proudly. “Though between ye and me, this one feels like two.”
“But ye look so young,” Ariella blurted.
Mairi’s face lit with delight. “Bless ye, me lady. I shall hold that compliment in me heart for months. The Hendry familyhave been in the service of the keep for generations, me lady. I have every intention to continue that tradition here,” Mairi said smiling proudly.
Ariella giggled and took the second basket. “Good. We’re lucky to have yer loyalty, Mairi — Where shall I set these?”
The woman nodded toward the kitchen door. “Down in the kitchens. Mind the threshold, it catches.”
Ariella carried the baskets in. The kitchen was enormous, warm, and alive with sound. The cook followed, setting the firewood by the hearth and straightening with a wince.
“How much longer until the bairn arrives?” Ariella asked over her shoulder.
“Arrives this spring, me lady,” the cook responded, nearly out of breath and Ariella instantly
A springtime bairn…the thought soothed something that had been on fire inside of her… something she hadn’t realized was on fire.
The kitchen was a warm, bustling den of heat and clatter. Copper pots gleamed along the walls, bread baked in the great oven, and several women stirred pots large enough to feed an army.
“Oh, this is lovely. I had nay idea we had this kind of support down here,” Ariella said, hands coming to rest on her hips.
Mairi huffed. “It is chaotic, is what it is. But it makes sure the clan is fed. And the clan keeps the laird alive, so one could say our work is rather important.”
Ariella felt something soothe inside her. This was familiar. Women working, moving around one another with ease. The sounds of chopping, the scent of herbs, the hum of conversation. She found a spare apron and tied it around her waist.
“Put me to work,” she said eagerly. “Please.”
Mairi looked her over as if appraising a new kitchen tool. “Can ye chop onions without crying yerself blind?”
“I can try.”
“Good enough. Fetch that knife.”
She worked happily for the next half hour, cutting vegetables, learning how to knead dough, and even took a turn at the hearth, stirring the stew.
She liked the feeling of being useful. Of stirring something instead of worrying something. Of helping instead of being helped.
“Ye have a knack for this,” Mairi said approvingly. “Most ladies poke at stew like they expect it to bite.”
“I enjoy work when I can do it,” Ariella said. “I was kept from most tasks at home.”
Mairi nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Then ye have come to the right place. We never have enough hands. While I’ll never expect it, ye are most welcome, anytime ye wish to spend time down here in the kitchen.”
The women shared a laugh, and then returned to their tasks. As they worked together, Ariella fetched herbs, chopped carrots, folded napkins, and tied bundles of dried rosemary. She had not felt so alive in days. Isla popped in twice to relay messages, and Ewan burst through once only to be swatted back out by Mairi for tracking mud.
Ariella laughed so hard she nearly dropped her spoon.
