Derek was still looking at her. He lowered his voice. “I’m a MacLeish you know? I can help you if you let me.”
“You can help me by getting out of my way. I’m not staying here a minute longer.” She tried to push past him.
He shoved her backward and the door was shut before she had time to recover. She ran across and tried to get it open again but it was already locked. Hammering on the door, she screamed, “Let me out at once!”
There was no response, only retreating footsteps.
She crossed to the window and shouted, “Help!” No one even looked up. They were all clearly in on this together.
Was it not a re-enactment? She’d done a couple of escape the room challenges before. Was this the same kind of thing? Had her mother paid for it for her as some kind of surprise?
It was possible. The fire hadn’t injured her. Could they fake a fire though? Of course they could, it happened all the time on TV. Were the victims just covered in special effects make up? Was that it?
She thought about what had happened so far that morning. They’d arrived at the old hall just after it opened, the first visitors to go inside. Her mother had been unusually excited. She’d thought it was just because she was seeing Andrew MacIntyre’s birthplace but maybe it was because of this.
The smoke. Her mother had noticed it first. Almost as if she were expecting it. Then the flames and her moving through them to the outside, miraculously unhurt.
The men on horseback had appeared from nowhere which was very convenient as well.
Some had run into the fire without stopping. It was all starting to make some kind of sense. It was a set up. They’d brought out actors playing the wounded.
Had she actually seen anyone getting hurt?
No, not a single person. It all fitted her theory. This was just a game like that Michael Douglas movie or that other one, the Bill Murray one set in London. The Man Who Knew Too Little. That was it.
It must have cost her mother a fortune for the tickets. All these people needed paying and all of them doing this just for her benefit.
She could have kicked herself for being frightened. None of this was real, it was just a game. She looked at the clothes Derek had left on the rug when he left. They looked so authentic. The attention to detail was incredible.
She thought about what she knew about medieval costume. Holding up each piece, she slotted them together in her head, trying to remember what her mother had said while they’d been going around the old hall.
No underwear but a long linen undergown. What was that called? A kirtle, that was it. Like a nightdress but almost reaching the floor. Then a dress of plain red wool, the hem of that would reach the floor. Several holes had been deliberately cut into the dress, she had no idea why.
Grey leggings called hose like the men wore. A wool belt known as a girdle back then. Black leather shoes like modern slippers but with the seams on the inside. Attached to the bottom of each shoe was a smooth wooden sole an inch high.
A white pillbox hat was in the pile too. Then a chin strap to hold the hat in place. That was a barbette, she remembered mom saying.
“Only married women had to cover their hair at that time,” mom had said, pointing to the mannequins on display in the old hall. “But you were looked down on if you had your hair on display at all, especially in the noble families. They were quite lucky up in Scotland, lots of plants to dye the clothes. Down in England it was a lot more expensive to be so colorful.”
Seeing outfits like that on a mannequin was very different to holding one in her hands. Was she supposed to put it all on and act like one of them? Could she at least get someone to break character and explain what she was supposed to do?
She looked out into the courtyard again. She saw Derek deep in conversation with Andrew, the laird, the man her mother had admired more than any other figure from the middle ages.
“He united an entire clan and then brought peace to the region for decades afterward,” as she was so fond of telling Beth. “No other clan chief achieved as much for another hundred years.”
Beth looked down at the actor playing him. From this distance she couldn’t tell what he was talking about but she guessed it was her. Derek was gesticulating next to him, no doubt complaining about being slapped.
He seemed to make up his mind a moment later about something and marched toward the keep. Was he coming to her? He stopped again, turning back, continuing his conversation with Derek.
She had to decide quickly. Join in the game or tell him she wanted to cancel the whole thing. Mom had paid for it and would want her to enjoy it.
There was something else she needed to decide too. Should she change into the clothes they’d given her or remain in her existing ones?
Her mother had given her no clues about any of it, she never even mentioned an interactive game when they headed to Scotland together.
Two weeks looking at the sites her mother loved. That was all they were supposed to be doing. It might be their last chance. She was getting weaker all the time. It wouldn’t be long before she lacked the strength for any journeys. It might be their last vacation together ever. That thought alone was enough to bring Beth close to tears.
She would join in, she decided at last. It would be what her mother wanted. She pulled her top over her head, tossing it onto the bed.
Crossing the room to the ewer, she sloshed water onto her arms, wiping away the worst of the soot. Returning to the bed, she undressed to her bra and panties before rolling the hose up her legs. They felt softer than she’d expected, more like leggings than pantyhose.
Once that was done she stepped into the kirtle. Over that went the dress, the kirtle visible in places through it. The dress fitted her surprisingly well, the hem brushing the floor until she put the shoes on, their wooden soles raising her in height at the cost of her ability to balance.
It took a while to get used to the feel of the shoes on her feet. When she finally felt able to stand without stumbling she turned to the hat, tying it to her head with the barbette in a neat bow under her chin.
She wished there was a mirror to see how she looked but maybe her mother could take a photo whenever they were finally reunited. She brushed the dress down, surprised by how comfortable the ensemble was.
She knew he was coming up. She could feel it in her bones. He was on his way up the stairs.
Still it came as a shock when she heard the door unlocking behind her. He was so tall he had to duck as he entered the room, only standing up straight once he was inside. He took one look and her and said, “Now you look like a proper highland lass.”
