"That means more than ye think, Lavina." She reached out, and her sister took her hand without hesitation.
The moment lingered, then Lavina gave her hand a squeeze and stepped back. "Come now, we've much to do before this room is ready. And ye, little sister, have an auction to make worthy of the McGowan name."
Maisie's grin returned, fierce and full of purpose. "Aye, and I'll nae disappoint ye."
Together, they walked toward the door, already speaking of ribbons, garlands, and the work ahead. The work took them straight through the morning toward noon.
"It's time for a meal," Lavina said.
"Aye, I must say all this work has given me an appetite," Maisie said.
Just then, Morag, the maid appeared. "Me lady, we have set up in the parlor as ye've asked."
"Thank ye, Morag," Lavina said.
Maisie followed Lavina into the parlor, where a table was set for a light luncheon of smoked ham, bannocks, honey cakes, and tea.
"I suppose we should decide if we should serve a supper at the long tables at the auction for people to eat from throughout the evening, or if we should have a proper mealtime in the great hall." Lavina pondered. "What do ye think?"
Maisie took a thoughtful sip of her steaming hot tea before answering. "I think the first. We daenae want people to be waitin' around for their bellies to be full. Let them eat from the tables at their leisure, surrounded by the art, and we shall have the whisky and port flowin'," Maisie said.
"I think ye are right," Lavina said.
"We do work well together, do we nae?" Maisie said before biting into a honey cake.
"Aye, it makes me think…" Lavina said but did not finish her sentence. Maisie watched as a frown came over her sister's face as she set her teacup down.
"What is it? Ye seem suddenly ill," Maisie asked.
"Nay, I am nae ill. I only thought of a time when ye might nae be here any longer. When ye are married with a family of yer own, far from me, and I daenae think me heart can take it," Lavina said.
"Och! Lavina! I hardly think that should be a problem. So far I have nae matched with any suitor. I am well over an inch above most and they daenae want to look up to their wife," Maisie said in jest.
Lavina laughed and Maisie was glad to bring a smile to her sister's face, but deep down, the thought of never finding love simply because she was not petite did cause a wound in her soul.
A sharp rap at the heavy oak door drew both their attention. Morag stepped inside, balancing a small silver tray in her hands. Resting on the tray was a single envelope, sealed with a dab of dark red wax.
"Beg yer pardon, me lady," the maid said, dipping her head toward Maisie. "A letter's come for ye. It was delivered to the gatehouse nae five minutes past." She stepped forward, the tray steady in her hands.
Maisie's brows lifted with curiosity as she crossed the room. "Thank ye, Morag," she said warmly, taking the envelope from the polished silver. Her fingers closed around it, the paper cold to the touch from its journey.
She glanced at the script on the front, her eyes widening slightly. "It's from Nathan." The name came out almost like a smile.
Lavina tilted her head, her expression edged with question. "Nathan? Who might that be, then?" Her tone was careful, though her curiosity was plain.
Maisie held the envelope lightly between her fingers, turning it as she answered. "He's a travelin' merchant, comes through the village now and again with his wagon full of wares. I've bought wee trinkets from him before. Last time I saw him, I told him I was lookin' for artwork and asked him to spread the word. I even gave him a letter to take with him, showin' me interest to others."
Lavina arched a brow, still watching her. "I see. And now he's written ye." She gestured toward the letter with a small nod. "Best see what's so important."
Maisie slipped her finger beneath the seal, breaking the wax with a crisp snap. She unfolded the paper, the black ink neat but hurried in its strokes. Clearing her throat, she began to read aloud.
"Lady Maisie, A man's come into possession of a rare painting by the renowned artist Byrne. Says he's willing to sell for a fair,small price if you've the coin ready. He'll meet you today in late afternoon at the stables just outside the western edge of the village off the main road. I thought of ye at once, Nathan."
Her voice had risen with excitement by the last line, and she folded the letter against her chest.
"Did ye hear that, Lavina? A Byrne paintin', right here, so close! I'll nae forgive meself if someone else gets there first." Her eyes shone, the thought already filling her with restless energy.
Lavina's lips curved faintly, though a shadow of caution remained in her gaze. "Aye, I heard. And I also hear the urgency in his words. If ye mean to go, ye'll take a guard with ye."
