“Put the dress back where you found it,” she said at last.
The maid hastened to obey her orders.
“Look at me,” Eliza ordered.
The women dragged their gazes back to her, and she looked each of them up and down contemptuously. “You will each work for one week without pay, and you will consider this your first and last warning. One more transgression like this, and you will be dismissed without a reference. Now go.”
The women hastened out of the room, and left Eliza seething with rage, but filled with a new and fierce determination; she had decided to take some overdue action.
She gathered the entire household staff in the courtyard and even ordered a dozen guards to stand around them so that they would have no thoughts of slipping away.
Eliza stood in front of the assembly, then drew herself up to her full height, thrust her chest forwards and her shoulders back. Then she tilted her chin up and stared down her nose at everyone who stood before her, meeting each one squarely in the eye. She was not tall, not powerfully built, but she had an air of command that was palpable to every person there.
“Good morning,” she began, then waited. Silence. “Is it not the custom here to return a greeting?” she asked, her gaze passing over them, outwardly calm, but inwardly seething with rage.
“Good morning.” The response was a ragged mumble, but it gave Eliza a thrill of triumph that she had forced it out of them.
“That’s better,” Eliza said in a tone of satisfaction. “Now, let me say this once and once only. I am English, as you know. You may call me a Sassenach or whatever else you like behind my back—I cannot stop you. However, since I am going to be mistress of this castle, I would like to be treated with some respect and courtesy, and I will give you the same treatment.
I may be English, but I have the same respect for Scots as I have for my own people, so I would ask you all to come to me if you have any problems, but let me be clear. You will receive one warning for deliberate misbehaviour and one only, and after that, it is dismissal without a reference, and be assured that I am a woman of my word.
However, I would like you all to know that I have your welfare at heart and I want us all to be friends, so if you are good to me, I will be good to you. Now, are there any questions?”
There were none, but this time the silence was not hostile, and there were even a few smiles. Eliza breathed a sigh of relief as she dismissed the meeting and sat down on a chair bythe wall. She found that she was trembling, and her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, but she had accomplished what she had set out to do and was overcome with relief.
At that moment, Maisie came up to her, smiling, and handed her a cup of the castle’s home-brewed ale. “I thought ye might need a wee somethin’ tae help ye calm down, Milady,” she said.
“Thank you, Maisie,” Eliza said gratefully as she raised the glass to her lips.
Then suddenly she remembered what had happened the previous evening with Duncan’s broth, and although she was fairly sure that Maisie would not harm her, she was taking no chances.
She spilled some ale on the floor and sent Maisie away to fetch a cleaning cloth from the kitchen, then discreetly disposed of the ale in a plant pot while she was away. Fortunately, the plant suffered no ill effects, and Eliza mourned the waste of a perfectly good glass of ale. She wondered how much food and drink would have to be disposed of in the future in this manner. It was a worrying thought.
Eliza spent the rest of the day with Maisie, being introduced to the gardeners, kitchen staff, stable hands and some of the guards who were on shift.
Eliza ordered fresh rushes to be laid down in many of the rooms in the working areas of the castle, since many chambers were strewn with sparse and sometimes rotten ones.
Having seen scarcity of meat in the stew that was the servants’ evening meal, she instructed more of it to be included, something which delighted them immensely.
She found herself in the unusual position of giving orders, and was surprised to find that the ability to do so came to her quite naturally, and that the servants were suddenly much more respectful to her. It occurred to her that she had tried to be too friendly to them, and they expected her to be stricter.
Eliza realised that she had learned some important lessons that day; perhaps she could be mistress of a castle, but could she ever be Duncan Sinclair’s wife?
At midnight, she crept towards the armoury, but just as she reached it, a hand landed on her shoulder. She whipped around, startled, opened her mouth to scream, then saw Duncan standing behind her. She let out a long sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry to have startled you,” Duncan whispered, then he took Eliza’s hand. He opened a heavy door that was so well-fitted into the wall that it was almost invisible.
They descended a steep flight of stairs then emerged into a small room lit by a bright lantern, and Eliza inhaled the earthy and floral aroma of dozens of different herbs. She saw bunches of them hanging from the ceiling by hooks.
“What is this place?” she asked curiously.
“My mother’s workroom,” Duncan replied, before going to a drawer in a cupboard by the wall and taking out a long thin knife that looked like a sword, but was much smaller. “This is a dirk. It can be used for throwing, or as a normal sword. I want you to learn to use it in order to defend yourself, Eliza, because although I will always want to protect you, I cannot be by your side every moment.”
He passed it to her carefully, handle first.
“Thank you.”
She was touched by his concern for her welfare, but the weapon was lethal, and even looking at it made her afraid.
