“Aye, if she is guilty of thievery,” Margaret conceded readily. “But first, let us suppose that she is not and see where that path may take us.” She turned to Ainsley, who was sniffling pitifully. “Do you remember what you did with the serving tray the last time you had it, child? Take your time and think carefully.”
“I don’t have to take any time thinkin’,” Ainsley answered tremulously, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“That’s handy, as ye never seem to anyway,” Elspeth grumbled.
Margaret rolled her eyes good-naturedly, then focused on the scullery girl again. “Go on, then. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I carried it back to the kitchen from the great hall after last night’s meal,” Ainsley said, choking back a sob. “I washed it, as I was told. An’ then I put it away wi’ all the other pots an’ dishes I scrubbed. I know I did! It should be where it belongs, an’ if it’s not, then it’s someone else’s doin’ an’ not mine!”
“Easy, child,” Margaret replied soothingly. “I’ve been in your station before, and I know how confusing it can be. I made so many silly mistakes when I was your age, it’s a wonder that Miss Elspeth did not cave my skull in with that ladle of hers…though she seems to have forgotten such things now,” Margaret added, raising an eyebrow at the cook.
Elspeth’s face turned red, but she remained silent. From the look on her face, she knew that Margaret had meant well with her gentle reminder.
Margaret thought back to her days as a scullery worker. How many valuable items had she misplaced in those first few weeks? Too many to count. There were so many things to keep track of in the kitchen, after all, and so many of them resembled each other to the untrained eye of a servant girl overwhelmed by her new responsibilities.
Cooking pots which ended up with the cleaning pans. Floor brushes which accidentally found their way onto the same shelf as the ones used on platters.
And all at once, Margaret knew exactly where the serving tray was.
She crouched next to the cabinet that housed the wood and metal cutting boards, and sure enough, the tray was nestled among them. Given its overall shape, it made sense that Ainsley would have mistakenly put it there.
Margaret pulled it out and handed it to Elspeth, who blushed a bit harder as she accepted it. “I don’t suppose we will need to banish or execute Ainsley today, will we?”
“No, I imagine not,” the cook grunted. “She’d best take greater care with her duties, though.”
“I have every confidence that she will,” Margaret said, beaming guilelessly at Elspeth. “In fact, I’d wager that in time, she will serve you better than I ever did.”
Elspeth smiled ruefully, stroking Margaret’s cheek. “Those are high boots indeed for any to step into, but I shall give her a chance for your sake. I am exceedingly proud of ye, lass. Ye’ll be a maid, at last, an’ none deserve it more.”
Margaret’s heart melted at the words. They echoed those of Seamus just minutes earlier, and she knew in that moment that she had been blessed with the parents she hadfoundrather than the ones she might have been born to.
Elspeth had been tough on her at the start, certainly, but in time, she had become a kind of mother figure to Margaret, teaching her to juggle what seemed like a hundred impossible tasks at once, all while making it look easy. So much of her thick skin and sensible nature had come from the cook’s harsh but well-meaning tutelage.
And now, at last, it was about to pay off.
She was going to be a maid.
As she poured the water into the pitcher and brought it back to Seamus’s chamber, she could scarcely conceal her grin of excitement.
