“Well, that’s what makes the Laird a good man, aye?” Mrs. Murray smiled. “He’s nae forcin’ her to learn all the nonsense about needlepoint and deportment and which fork to use atfancy dinners. But readin’ and writin’? Those are useful, no matter who ye are. And he wants her to have every advantage.”
Ava looked at the books again. “I ken how to read and write. And I’m decent enough with numbers. But Latin? I only learned the basics meself, and that was years ago.”
“Then ye’ll learn together.” Mrs. Murray patted her shoulder. “The Laird has faith in ye, lass. Now, I’ll leave ye to it. Breakfast is served in the great hall at eight, lunch at noon, and supper at six. Daenae be late, the Laird is particular about meals.”
She stepped out, leaving Ava alone with Esther and a huge pile of educational materials.
“Right then.” Ava moved to sit at the table, her mind already working through how to approach this. “Esther? Can ye come here, sweetheart?”
Esther abandoned her wooden horse and climbed into the chair beside Ava, her dark eyes curious.
“We’re goin’ to start yer lessons today,” Ava explained gently. “I ken ye can write, and probably read reasonably, too. But yer uncle wants ye to learn more readin’ and writin’. Does that sound all right?”
Esther nodded, though anxiety flickered across her face.
Ava pulled out the first book, a primer with large letters and simple illustrations. “Let’s start with somethin’ easy. See this word?” She pointed to large letters that spelled‘lass’at the top of the page. “Can ye try readin’ that word ?”
Esther stared at the letters, her small hands clenching in her lap.
“There’s no rush, lass,” Ava said softly, recognizing the fear in the child’s eyes. “Take yer time. It’s just ye and me here, and I promise I willnae judge how ye sound. I just want to hear ye try.”
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, so quietly, Ava almost missed it:
“Lass.”
It was barely a whisper, more breath than sound, but it was there.
“That’s perfect!” Ava kept her voice calm and encouraging, not wanting to overwhelm the child with too much enthusiasm. “Absolutely perfect. Now, let’s try the next one. This is the word ‘ball’. Can ye try?”
“B-ball?”
The stutter was there, but Esther had made the sound. Ava felt a surge of triumph.
“Wonderful! Ye’re doin’ so well, Esther.” She moved her finger down the page. “Let’s keep goin’. This word starts with C...”
They worked through the first ten words, Esther’s confidence growing incrementally with each one.
By the time they reached half of the set of words, she was speaking slightly louder, though still hesitant. When she stumbled over a word, tensing as if expecting punishment, Ava would simply smile and say, “That’s all right. Try again. We have all the time in the world.”
After an hour, Ava closed the book. “That’s enough for today. Ye did brilliantly, Esther. I’m very proud of ye.”
“R-really?” Esther’s voice was small but hopeful.
“Really. Tomorrow we’ll practice those letters again, and then we’ll start puttin’ them together to make words. How does that sound?”
Esther nodded, then surprised Ava by wrapping her thin arms around her in a spontaneous hug. “Thank ye, Ava.”
Ava held her close, her throat tight with emotion. “Ye’re welcome, sweet girl.”
A knock at the door made them both look up. Caitlin poked her head in, her usual cheerful smile in place.
“It’s nearly time for lunch, Miss Harris! The Laird will be expectin’ ye in the great hall.”
Ava’s stomach immediately tied itself into knots.
Lunch. With Noah.
For the past three days, she’d shared every meal with him—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Always in the great hall, at the high table, with Esther between them and various castle residents at the lower tables. It should have felt routine by now.
