Lilly rushed to her side. “My Lady!” Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
Marian gave her a look, drawing her closer to whisper, “Making myself at home.”
Lilly gasped in surprise, but her excitement was quickly interrupted by Mrs. MacBride’s shout.
“What are ye starin’ at?” Her voice was loud as she told off the rest of the kitchen maids, who had stopped to watch the drama, and they scrambled back to their original posts.
A small smile tugged at Marian’s lips as she turned back to the two maids in the pantry with her.
“Come now,” she urged, her eyes lingering on the vegetables in their hands. “Let’s get back to it.”
With that, she resumed organizing the pantry. She directed the maids over the sound of Mrs. MacBride’s loud protests, which were mostly indirect complaints intended entirely for her to hear.
“Daenae change up me orders!” she yelled once.
Marian whipped around, only to see her bending over one of the maids mixing flour.
“Excuse me, Mrs. MacBride,” she interrupted her once when she needed more hands to move around bags of grains.
Mrs. MacBride barely looked up to answer her.
“Pick any girl you want, me Lady,” she grumbled. “Ye clearly daenae need me permission.”
Several moments later, when she finally cleaned her hands off the dough, Mrs. MacBride walked into the pantry again.
Marian looked up to catch her frown fading, but once Mrs. MacBride caught her looking, it returned.
“Ye’ve rearranged everythin’,” Mrs. MacBride said flatly.
Marian nodded. “Aye.” The word slipped out before she could stop it, sounding strange on her English tongue. “I was sure to label everything, if you’ll let me show you.”
Mrs. MacBride arched an eyebrow. “I suppose,” she allowed, rolling her eyes.
Marian smiled.
“Over here.” She walked across the pantry, her steps eager as Mrs. MacBride followed behind her. “I sorted the greens with the freshest ones behind. That way, you get to the older ones before they start to wither. I kept grains and flour separate from fresh foodstuffs, so the weevils do not spread easily. I also arranged the most frequently used grains on the lower shelves. That way, you don’t have to strain your back fetching them daily.”
She turned to look at Mrs. MacBride, glad to see that the woman was no longer frowning.
A flicker of curiosity crossed Mrs. MacBride’s features as she asked, “Where are me oats?”
Marian smiled softly. “Right here,” she said, pointing toward the middle shelf where it could easily be reached. “You Highlanders seem to fancy oats quite a bit, so I kept them in the best spot.”
Mrs. MacBride laughed—a small, surprisingly sweet laugh that caught all the kitchen maids off guard. “Quite a bit? They’re the best food!”
Marian nodded. “I certainly have to agree. I could not get enough of your oat bannocks the other day.”
Mrs. MacBride lifted her chin proudly. “I see ye have good taste,” she said quietly, before pausing to look at her again. “I have bread bakin’. Would ye like to try some fresh out of the oven, me Lady?”
Marian’s smile widened in surprise. “Of course!” Her stomach grumbled right on cue. “I would very much love to try some. Thank you, Mrs. MacBride.” She let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding.
One of the maids fetched her a stool at the kitchen table, and another gave her a glass of water. Marian sat there, watching in awe as Mrs. MacBride brought out the hot bread from the stone oven.
At that moment, she realized, with quiet surprise, that it reminded her of nothing from her life in England. Yet, for the first time since arriving in Glen Carrick, she did not feel like a guest wandering through someone else’s world.
She felt… home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
