The housekeeper grinned. “Aye. I will wait for ye outside the door. And I have packed us some sweet bread as well, Me Lady.”
“Oh, good. Thank you, Moira.”
The castle was bustling with life as they walked, and Lilliana decided to get some information from Moira between bites of the sweet bread in her hand. “How many people live here?”
Moira shrugged. “It depends on the time of year. At the moment, the shepherds are up in the hills with the sheep. They will come down in the winter. The guards reside here in the castle and in the guard house. Most of the single lads take rooms in the castle while the others scatter to the village.”
“Oh.” Lilliana was a bit nonplussed. So much of their lifestyle differed from what she was used to. “Why do they go up to the hills in the summer?”
“Ach, the pasture is up there, and the sheep love it. Sometimes they make it down here one day a week. It really depends on the time of year. The wool grows long, and it is sheared in the autumn to make nice thick plaid for the winter.”
Lilliana nodded in understanding. “That is interesting. And?—”
“Here we are!” Moira interrupted, pointing at a patch of ground with a flourish. She was right about it being neglected.
Lilliana bent down at once to pull some weeds.
“Oh, there ye are, Old Fergus. I think ye have met our new mistress already, have ye nae?”
Lilliana looked up to see who Moira was speaking to, and her eyes landed on an old man limping towards them, his gnarled right hand wrapped around the knob of a walking stick. She straightened to greet him.
His expression was ornery, and he did not seem pleased to see her.
What could I possibly have done to earn his ire?
She felt very put off.
Old Fergus came to a stop beside them and stared at her. “Mhm, aye, we have met, though nae formally. We sat at the same table during yer pre-wedding dinner. That was an interesting evening.” He chuckled to himself.
“Ach. Go on with ye and introduce yerself, will ye?”
Fergus snorted. “Can she nae speak for herself?”
Lilliana’s temper rose. “I can speak for myself quite well. I am not fond of speaking to rude men, however.”
Fergus’s eyes widened. “Ach, thesassenachsare always so fixated on mannerliness. I wouldnae have thought the Laird would marry one.”
“Fergus, it isnae yer place to decide what the Laird does,” Moira chided. “Now, greet Lady McGill properly, lest she think we are all ill-mannered scrunts and bend the Laird’s ear on it.”
Fergus narrowed his eyes at her before executing an awkward bow in Lilliana’s direction. “Itisa pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Me Lady. Now, why are ye in me garden?”
“Oh!” Lilliana said with feigned shock. She refused to back down because if this garden ‘belonged’ to anyone, it was her husband and thusher. “I did not know this garden belonged to you. Moiratold me this was the healer’s garden, reserved for the healer’s use, and that the old healer had retired.”
“And so? What of it? Does it nae make the garden mine?”
Lilliana cleared her throat.How tiresome.
“No, Old Fergus. It means that the garden is no longer yours, just as the healer’s quarters are also not for your use. So, we are here to clean up the garden of weeds—it is clearly in disarray.”
“Is that so? Do ye even ken the difference between a weed and a plant?” Fergus asked, as an old man might challenge an ignorant girl.
The amusing thing about this was that Lilliana was far from ignorant about this topic.
“Careful, Old Fergus. You must watch your tone to be effective in your argument. If you do not, you risk not being taken seriously.”
“Is that so,Me Lady?”
“Oh yes! I would know, of course. As the receiver of your argument, I can tell you that your tone is dangerously close to the point at which you lose credibility.”
