“I am told I’m quite clever.”
Of course, she was, but sewing and baking were not her tasks. “Perhaps your time would be better spent becoming the lady of the castle. I thought you wanted to start a school. A…a Davie could not do that.”
“How would you know what it takes to start a school?” she asked, her voice tart. “Have you ever thought on it?”
“In fact, I have. And not once did I imagine it involved learning how to make bread.”
“That depends on the school. Cooking is an important skill.”
“But the MacCleals already know how to do that. Clara, I brought you here to teach us things we don’t know. Not to learn the things we already do.”
She lowered her spoon slowly, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. He hated to see her expression darken, especially since she’d been so happy a moment before. But she had to understand her place here, and it wasn’t working as an apprentice baker.
“You said I could do as I wanted. You said I could spend my half of the dowry doing as I saw fit.” She spoke slowly, but he could hear the anger growing underneath. So could the two girls as they curtsied and slipped away.
“This isn’t spending money on improvements.” He brushed at a smear of dough on her forearm. “This is playing at being a peasant.”
“I’m playacting now?” She thrust her chin out in stubborn display.
“Don’t look so offended. We both know several women who run around pretending to be shepherds like Mary with her little lambs.” He grabbed his empty bowl and added it to the pile of dirty dishes. “You once called them silly creatures with empty heads.”
“Yes, I did.” She straightened up to face him nose to chin. “I cannot believe you think I’m doing the same thing.”
“Aren’t you?” He tried to reach for her, but she jerked backward. “Whyever would you need to know how to bake? Every woman here knows how.”
“Because every woman here knows how. It is not helpful if I can’t do—”
He cut her off. “There are hundreds of things the women here can do that you will never master. They won’t accept you just because you try.” He shook his head. “Indeed, they’ll gossip about how bad you are at it.”
She didn’t say anything, and he thought for a moment that he had hurt her. No one liked to be wrong, least of all a woman as clever as Clara. But she needed to start on the right foot, and neither of them had time to waste.
Still, he felt bad for the pain he’d caused her. “Clara—” he began, but she cut him off.
“You want me to come in as a lady and order everyone around. You want me to throw money at them and demand that they follow my commands. And anyone who disobeys won’t have a job. Yes?”
Yes! “You need not be mean about it.”
“I won’t be,” she said firmly. “Because that is not how I intend to go on.”
He blew out a breath. “Clara, I’m trying to help.”
“You’re trying to tell me what to do. You want me to be just like my mother.” She shoved him in the chest hard enough that he took an involuntary step backwards. “If you had wanted that, you should have married her.”
“I’ve upset you.”
“Go away, Liam, before I throw the crockery at you.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to wash the dishes! That is the next thing that a scullery maid does.”
Of all the infernally stupid ideas. “You’re not a scullery maid!”
“I am the lady of the castle—”
“Yes!”
“Then I shall do as I please.”
