4
In her nearly two decades of life, there had hardly been a time when she had been shown consideration or received great comfort.
In the orphanage, where life had often been a struggle, comfort had always come at a cost. Usually, it was blistered and bloodied hands as she tried to pave her way to something better, using the one skill she possessed—knitting.
It was the one thing that gave access to a warm bed for Elize when she fell sick.
Emily’s mind had often been consumed with the thought of keeping her sister away from the threadbare pallets on the cold, hard floor they had used to sleep on. Their housemates had mocked them a lot, declaring them soft sissies who feared that a mite of cold might kill them.
“Emily. Elize,” Mrs. Donnelly called out, stepping into the maids’ common chambers.
“Yes, Mrs. Donnelly,” the sisters answered, rising and smoothing down their skirts.
“Pack yer bags and come with me,” Mrs. Donnelly ordered, before stepping out of the room.
Murmurs rippled through the air, and Emily’s heart thudded heavily in her chest.
“Do ye ken what she wants, Emi?” Elize asked nervously.
Emily did not dare look at her, not wanting her to see the guilt in her eyes. But the worry in her sister’s tone surprised her. Had Elize come to like being in the castle?
“Let us see first, Elize,” she answered. “Pack quickly.”
They hastily packed their bags and joined the housekeeper in the hallway. Emily saw the questioning look in her eyes, but rather than say anything, Mrs. Donnelly led them through the halls.
She stopped in front of a door a few floors up, opened it, and stepped inside.
Emily did not move, unsure whether to follow or not. She took the time to survey the carpeted hallway and saw a few more doors on either side.
“Are ye going to stand there all day, lass?” Mrs. Donnelly asked, jolting her out of her reverie. She was watching her with an expression Emily could only describe as pained patience.
Her face heated in embarrassment. The housekeeper must think she was a bit daft to stand in the hallway and simply stare off into the distance.
Stepping into the room gingerly, Emily looked over the space, her eyes eagerly drinking in the details.
The room was big, at least compared to the rooms back in the orphanage. A large bed draped in emerald green occupied the center. It was well made, the covers turned down at the edges. An oak carved chest sat at the foot of the bed, and a beautiful chair stood in front of the fireplace.
It was day now, but she could already imagine how cozy the room would be when the fireplace was lit at night. It was simple, but to her, it was heavenly.
She could feel her cheeks tugging up with an excited smile.
“Is it to yer liking?” Mrs. Donnelly asked.
Once again, Emily had forgotten about the housekeeper’s presence, lost in admiration for her new accommodations.
“I love it,” she answered. The simple words were unable to fully capture her awe and gratitude. “Thank ye, Mrs. Donnelly.”
“Ye are welcome, lass,” the housekeeper said simply, then turned to leave. Stopping at the threshold, she turned back. “Yer sister’s room is next door, and there are clothes in the chest for ye.”
“Thank ye,” Emily repeated, her heart overflowing with gratitude. “This is too much.”
“This is nothing, believe me,” Mrs. Donnelly assured her, before leaving.
As soon as the door closed, Emily dashed to the wide windows like an excited child. From up here, she could see the horizon and the castle grounds as servants hustled to and fro, going about their daily chores.
Would she be able to continue her knitting now that she was to be the Laird’s betrothed?
As much as she loved knitting, she was grateful that she would not have to depend on it for survival for the next thirty days. Now she just had to focus on pretending that she was a lady of high pedigree.
