“Ye lie here, then, and I’ll fetch it.”
Nothing but silence greeted Nora as she descended the stairs to the kitchens.
“Is anyone down there?” she called, inching down the narrow, treacherous steps. The kitchens squatted in the very bowels of the house, always busy, always chaotic, except after the last meal had been served and the dishes were put away. When Nora reached the bottom of the steps, she found herself in a cavernous, low-ceilinged room. At one end of the room, cutsof meat swung above wide, shallow dishes to collect the juices. There were hens and fowls of all descriptions, some plucked, some not. One huge trout rested on a plate, covered with a cloth.
The whole place stunk of food. Generally, food had a delicious, pleasant smell, but here, with all the usual delicious scents mingling and clashing, the overall effect was somewhat nauseating. Boxes and baskets of fruits and vegetables were shoved together under one of the huge, well-scrubbed kitchen tables, and a few dishes were left on top. Glittering knives hung from the ceiling alongside bushels of herbs, onions, garlic, and more. Empty cauldrons, recently scrubbed, stood by the massive, empty fireplace, ready for use the next day. Even with the fire not in use, a few embers still smoldered in its depths, filling the room with steady, even puffs of heat.
“Is anyone here?” Nora tried again.
This time, there was movement. An urchin, probably the boy who turned meat on the spit, stirred out from under a pile of blankets and blinked at her.
“Aye, me Lady?” he rasped. “The cooks are all gone to bed.”
“That’s all right. Was there some shortbread left out for Lady Laurie?”
The boy frowned, thought, then pointed at the table.
“There, perhaps?”
He was pointing at a small dish, covered with a cloth and piled with something. Nora glanced at it, and when she looked back at him, he had gotten stiffly to his feet, pulling his blankets around him, and stalked off into an adjoining room. Clearly, he was not pleased at being woken up.
Not wanting to disturb the boy again, she moved over to the table and pulled back the cloth. Sure enough, there was a small pile of shortbread.
This must be hers,Nora thought, picking up the plate. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d hardly eaten at supper, what with the excitement over finally finding a lead to Margaret.
Well, Laurie cannae eatallof these,she thought with a wry smile, and picked up a piece of shortbread from the plate. She took a large bite.
Her first thought was that the cook must somehow have forgotten the sugar. Shortbread was not the sweetest biscuit, but it was meant to be alittlesweet. The texture was wrong, too, less crunchy and more chewy, almost as if they were stale. And without the taste of the sugar, the biscuit waswrong, somehow. Off.
I cannae give these to Laurie. They’ll make her ill. They’re makin’mefeel ill,Nora thought, disappointment resounding through her. Laurie would not be pleased, but at least she’d had something nutritious today. The broth might not be particularly interesting, but it was good for her.
With a sigh, Nora dropped the rest of the shortbread into the slop pail.
Time to break the news to Laurie, then.
Judging by the thin line of light coming out from under the door, Laurie was still awake. Wincing, Creighton pushed open the door and peered inside.
“Are ye asleep, lass?”
Laurie stirred, her head popping up to look at him. “Crey! Ye came to say goodnight.”
“Of course I did,” he said, slipping inside and settling onto the edge of her bed. “Yer poor nurse is ill, then? What a pity.”
“Aye, she’s very sad. But I’m sure she’ll be better in the mornin’. Nora said that she would make her a draught, probably to make her feel better, but I daenae ken if she’ll remember. She might forget.”
“Nora might forget?” he echoed, frowning. “She willnae forget.”
“She forgets lots of things,” Laurie muttered darkly. “She said she would go to get me shortbread for me, but that was an hour ago, and she still hasnae come back.”
Creighton paused in the act of brushing back Laurie’s hair from her forehead. “What, she just left and didnae return? Did she go alone?”
Laurie nodded seriously. “Aye. I wonder if she’s tryin’ to make shortbread.”
“I’d best go check on her, then,” Creighton said at last, rising to his feet and trying to swallow back his unease. Nothing was wrong, of course. Whyshouldanything be wrong?
He left the room and set off at a brisk jog down the hallway.
The kitchens,he thought, taking a turn downwards.She’ll have gone to the kitchen.
