Page 21 of Ghost of the Ton

“That’s settled, then,” Lady MacLennan said. “Elspeth, have some tea brought to my chamber, will ye—then make sure we’re not disturbed. My daughter-in-law and I have much to discuss.”

One of the older servants bobbed a curtsy. Taking Mia’s hand, Lady MacLennan led her out of the great hall.

*

“I trust those marks dinnae pain ye.”

After ushering Mia to sit on a threadbare sofa, Lady MacLennan—the Lady MacLennan, for Mia could not think of herself as such—lowered herself into a seat beside the unlit fireplace.

Mia lifted her gaze from the valise on her lap to see the other woman looking directly at her. Her unflinching gaze wandered over Mia’s form, lingering on her hands before settling on her face. Mia reached for her veil to lower it, but Lady MacLennan raised her hand.

“Please don’t on my account,” she said, “nor on anyone else’s. And ye can set that aside.” She gestured to the valise.

Mia obediently placed the valise on the floor, then glanced about the chamber. It was enormous, the rear portion dominated by a four-poster bed and the front section furnished like a parlor, which must be Lady MacLennan’s living quarters.

The chamber had the same stone walls as the main hallway, but lacked the air of gloom. The tapestries lining the walls were brighter, both in color and the scenes they portrayed. One depicted the mountain in soft blues and purples, towering benevolently over a meadow covered in flowers and grasses in differing shades of green, pink, and yellow. A path wound through the meadow, leading the observer’s eye a little to the left of the center of the tapestry, and Mia caught her breath as she spotted the figure of a stag. But unlike the tormented creature she’d seen in the hall, the animal stood proudly on the slopes of the mountain, head tipped upward as it roared at the sky, proclaiming the land as his. Mia couldn’t suppress a smile at the vitality portrayed in the image, the sense of joy in belonging to a land more vibrant than any park in London.

“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?”

Mia glanced at Lady MacLennan, who regarded her with a soft smile.

“Dinnae frown, lass. I would see ye smile. It’s a happy day.”

“I fail to see a reason to be happy,” Mia said.

Lady MacLennan frowned and opened her mouth to reply, but the door opened and a maidservant entered bearing a tray.

“Ah, Elspeth, set the tray on the table, please, and if ye’d be so kind as to pour the tea?”

“Yes, Yer Ladyship.”

The maidservant placed the tray on a circular table with a thick column at the base that splayed out at the bottom to form three feet, carved into the shape of cloven hooves. The tray, fashioned from a dark-gray metal, bore a silver tea set, two cups, and a plate piled high with pale-brown slabs dotted with sugar.

“How do ye take yer tea, Lady MacLennan?”

Mia resumed her attention on the tapestry, letting her gaze wander over the flowers in the foreground.

“My dear?” her host said, and Mia glanced back to see both women staring at her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Elspeth means ye, lass.”

“B-but I’m not…”

“Ye are, Yer Ladyship,” the maidservant said, staring at Mia unflinchingly. Then she smiled. “I’ve brought some milk and sugar in case ye take it, though the mistress has her tea plain. And I hope ye’ll take a slice of shortbread. Mrs. McBride bakes the finest shortbread in Scotland.”

She picked up the plate and approached Mia, holding it out.

“Yes, do,” her hostess said.

Her hand trembling, Mia reached for a slice, and flinched as she lowered her gaze to her hand, the back of which was covered in pockmarks. To her credit, rather than recoil, the maidservant merely widened her eyes before returning to the table.

“Lady MacLennan?” she said, lifting the teapot.

“A little milk and perhaps a spoon of sugar,” Mia said. “I don’t usually take sugar, but today I feel…” She paused, her cheeks warming.

“I understand, my dear,” her hostess said, gently, while Elspeth poured the tea. “Ye’ve endured a long journey and yer arrival must have been very distressing for ye.”