“I suppose we shall just have to wait and see,” Betsy replied.
The journey north took three long days and a fourth spent rattling over increasingly narrow roads. They slept in modest inns, sneaking in Bramble each night. They ate meals that grew plainer with each mile north they crawled, and watched thelandscape change from soft English fields to harsher hills and stone-lined paths.
Lilliana spent the hours cataloging herbs she might find ahead, while Betsy alternated between anxious chatter and wide-eyed silence as the Highlands drew nearer.
“Oh Lord, are we almost there? My back feels quite done in,” Betsy complained.
Lilliana held on to the side of the carriage as it lurched through the hilly landscape. Scotland was a beautiful, lush green scene, but the road left a lot to be desired. They had left Edinburgh early that morning and were perhaps another three hours away from Malgrave. Lilliana was just as tired and sore as Betsy, but she tried to set a good example and not complain.
“Soon,” she whispered hoarsely. “Be patient.”
“I have not seen any ill people yet. How long until we reach Malgrave?” Betsy whined.
Lilliana peered out the window. “I think the first village is just up ahead. We should be able to get a glimpse of how serious everything is.”
Betsy smiled. “You sound excited.”
“I am.” Lilliana wiggled in her seat. “I have never been given an opportunity like this. I want to make Father proud, so he does not regret it.”
Betsy made a humming sound and looked away, her face purposely blank.
Lilliana knew Betsy’s opinion of her father. Her lady’s maid thought that her father was too hard on her because he tended to complain that Lilliana did not like to flit about and fan herself like the other ladies in the ton, and because no one had asked for her hand in marriage.
At twenty-two years old, Lilliana knew her father was growing impatient. Her sister, Cecily, was engaged, and her younger sister had been receiving visitors every day since she debuted.
Lilliana was aware that her hands were usually stained green and that it might put off some gentlemen, but she was sure the right man was still out there, and she would find him. Just as soon as she helped these villagers.
Betsy took charge of Bramble as they arrived at the gates of Malgrave Castle, where they were stopped by a group of soldiers. Lilliana’s heart stuttered with fear as they inspected the carriage, hostile looks on their faces. She tried to speak with them, but they ignored her.
“Your Laird is expecting me,” she said. “I am here to help.”
No one paid her any mind, simply opening her bags and going through her belongings with an unexpected thoroughness.
“We are civilians,” she felt obligated to say.
Finally, one of the soldiers jumped atop the carriage beside the driver and indicated that they should ride on. Betsy and Lilliana exchanged glances.
“They are even more hostile than I thought,” Betsy whispered, caressing Bramble.
They rode for at least another five minutes.
Lilliana peered out the window, taking in the scenery. “It is quite a bit larger than I thought it would be,” she said.
Betsy peered outside. “Yes, I suppose it is not as small as we were expecting.”
Malgrave Castle had a vast compound and verdant fields dotted with various animals, peacefully grazing. There were also people going about their business, none of whom paid any mind to the carriage.
“I wonder if those are the villagers we are here to save,” Lilliana said, pointing to them. “Though they look quite healthy to me. I suppose the sick ones would not be out and about.”
Betsy nodded. “Yes, they must be elsewhere. These look quite ruddy, hale, and hearty. Like proper Scotsmen.” Her eyes wandered over them curiously. “Though I have never been to Scotland before, so I am just guessing.”
Lilliana smiled. “What about all the Scotsmen we passed on the road? Do they not qualify?”
“Oh, these seem a bit bigger, do you not reckon so?”
Lilliana glanced out the window just as the carriage came to a stop outside massive wooden doors that framed a large stone castle. Her mouth dropped open at the size of it. She had not been expecting something so large and ostentatious.
“You might just be right, Betsy.”
