Chapter Twenty-Three
Liam left threedays later. He didn’t even wake her when he left because he’d pleasured her until nearly dawn. She had no idea if he slept at all and so worried about him as he travelled first to see the Aberbeag to order copper pipes, then to Edinburgh for her coin, stone, and skilled masons. While he was gone, she was to help Mr. Russell finalize his plans, organize for the incoming workers, and find the reason for her restlessness.
That was an odd question to plague her. She was generally a restless person, her mind hopping from one academic pursuit to another. She dabbled here, then grew bored and dabbled there. It defined her life in London as she wandered from one lecture to another in search of…
What?
Friends? She had found many, but they drifted into and out of her life with regularity. Intellectual stimulation? Yes, of course. But eventually endless studying grew irritating, and she ended up wandering into a new field of study simply because she decided to attend a new lecture by someone previously unknown to her.
What did she want? And had she found it here? That was the question Liam kept asking her. Did she have a good day? Was she happy? Could he make her life easier here?
He had given her purpose. It was a fine challenge to run a castle, but already she was tired of the work. Endless meal preparation, cleaning, and then coaxing of children and adults to try something new. It was incredibly hard to get them to learn the alphabet, and she’d tied it to their pay. And though a few people were inspired to learn, several more grumbled at every turn. It was exhausting and she already knew such a life would destroy her.
And yet, she wasn’t ready to leave. Instead, she grew more and more irritated as she went about her day. Without Liam around to distract her at night, she was restless, short-tempered, and unable to work in any coordinated fashion. Fortunately, she had a great deal of people to distract her.
The Laird was returning.
She learned that when she was standing in the newer kitchen discussing a new oven with Julian and Rhona. The first had no more idea what would work in the large kitchen than she did. The latter was even less help since her every answer was to shake her head and say, “Mrs. Boyce is verra particular.”
“Then Mrs. Boyce should have shown up to work today!” she snapped.
“She’s gone to help the Laird. She’s got two middle boys with him—”
A strident voice cut in. “And I’ll not have them drinking their brains to pudding while they’re playing with knives.”
Clara spun around to see a woman with salt and pepper hair, a wide face, and a sturdy frame stomp into the room. Her face might be appealing if it weren’t pulled into a sour frown as she inspected the people here.
“What are you—” the woman began, but Clara cut her off.
“You’re Mrs. Boyce, aren’t you? Thank God you’re here.”
“—doing in my kitchen? And who’s he?”
Not a woman to be interrupted, it seemed, but Clara was annoyed enough to get her answers any way she could. She glanced at Rhona. “Is that Mrs. Boyce?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Wonderful.” She turned to the woman who was looking more mutinous by the second. “We’re putting in a modern oven. I thought it should go there.” She pointed to the far side of the nearest wall. “Looks like it would be easiest to get things in and out of it without moving things too much. But Mr. Russell thinks it must be here for best use of the pipes that will transport the water to the bathhouse. Your opinion would be valued.”
“An oven? Why do you think we need a new oven? I’ve managed just fine—”
“Well, of course you’ve managed. I thought you’d want one. And since we’re doing repairs now, this is your chance. We won’t be at it again for…” She shrugged. “Ever, I should think.”
“Repairs? What repairs? You won’t be mucking about my kitchen, interfering with the feeding of good people. Not while I’m here, you won’t.” She dropped her hands on her hips and glared at them.
Clara looked back and considered her options. She wanted a better cook than what she and Rhona had achieved, but she would not fight a woman who was contrary just to be contrary. She turned back to Mr. Russell.
“Mrs. Boyce does not want changes to her kitchen. That means we shall be upgrading the old kitchen with the new stove. You have made plans for that possibility?”
Julian grimaced. “It’ll be a great deal more expensive. And the walk will be long from there to the great hall.”
“Can you fix that trip stone? I cannot tell you how many times I’ve nearly knocked myself unconscious just from walking into the room.”
“Of course, I can. But as I said, it’s far from ideal. The old kitchen is much smaller. I thought you meant to move this oven into there and bring a new one here.”
“That makes logical sense, but Mrs. Boyce has refused it. If she wants to make meals with a smaller, less effective oven, then I shall give Rhona here the better kitchen.” She rapped her knuckles on the sketch. “Done. Now let us go to the other kitchen and see what’s to be managed there.”
She turned to go, gesturing Rhona ahead of her, but Julian held her back. “Lady Clara, be reasonable. That is not the logical choice.”
