Page 26 of Christmas Wore Plaid

“What if it was put into a bursary? To train a skill? My tenants are farmers, not factory workers, but if they could be taught, perhaps they could be employed elsewhere.”

Emerson’s eyes lit up. She dashed to his side to grasp his forearm. “Indeed! Apprenticeships! To be a blacksmith, or a cook. Or perhaps a shepherd, since mutton abounds more and more.”

“Or a foundry worker or coal miner,” he added, unable to remain indifferent to her enthusiasm. “With the clearances, farmers have no other options, and they try to subsist on poorly arable land on nothing but pottage.”

“Which no doubt leads to illness,” Emerson said, and he watched a shiver rack her frame and a storm cloud darken her brow.

Aye, scarlet fever had left a lasting mark on her. He couldn’t imagine what enduring that illness had felt like.

“Many of my tenants have come south from Inverness and beyond, hoping to find work and a bothy in which to put their children.”

She shook off the melancholy and beamed up at him, and the beauty nearly stopped his heart. “A jolly good idea! A bursary to sponsor apprenticeships would help them immensely. And profits from boarders would keep it funded. And so, a shilling donated by each guest who comes to the party?”

He considered it, then smirked. “Nay. A pound sterling.”

“A whole pound? Such greed, Brady,” she teased, clicking her tongue.

“And that’s only if I agree to a party. Forget not that I have yet to agree.”

“Why would you not?”

“The expense would be grand.”

“I said I’d pay for it.”

“I’ll not accept charity.”

“Then consider it a loan.”

His face hardened. “I’ll not be indebted.” Her smile fell and he shook his head slowly. “Not ever again.”

“Fine,” she breathed, pursing her lips. “I can understand why, and I cannot begin to fathom the betrayal you must have felt at being so blindsided by that burden. But you’re a stubborn man, Brady MacInnes, willing to make so many suffer when there’s a way to help them right in front of you.”

He smarted. Her quick wit had lashed him. He could see the twinkle in her eye and knew that her scolding was laced with confidence that she was right. Aye, a solution, at least, the idea of one, was at their disposal, with the space to throw the party like his parents had always done, and the funds for which to finance it.

“I’ll think on it,” he finally replied, folding his arms and pacing to the window.

“An entire pound, instead of a shilling?” she quirked her brow.

He shook his head. “Dear Emmy, the wealthy folk can spare a pound or two, and not just from their waists, for they’re the very people who evict their tenants to protect their pocketbooks. But I fear such a party would have to wait until next Christmas,” he finally added.

Her smirk dropped and she perched her hands upon her hips. “Why?”

He furrowed his brow. “Christmas day is two weeks hence. How on earth can I see to my manor’s refurbishments in such a short time? And for that matter, how do you intend to plan a party and invite all the guests by then?”

She shook her head as if he were daft. “My hand is not broken, kind sir,” she added with a dramatized lilt. “I’m more than capable of writing out all invitations this evening and having them delivered on the morrow.”

“You expect to ride back to Crieff today to write invitations? After passing out on my front step? Lord, woman, you’re a fool if you think that’s a sound plan.”

“Are you suggesting that I stay the night?” she asked.

The idea tripped his stride, then put a smile on his face. His hospitality wasn’t worth much, but he didn’t mind having her stay in the least, though he doubted he’d sleep a wink knowing she was down the corridor from him.

“I’d wager the weather thinks you should.” He gestured to the window. Snow had accumulated along the sill. “I promised one of my tenants a trip into town tomorrow besides, so I could easily escort you. She lost her daughter years ago, but it turns out the woman bore a lad out of wedlock. We’ve just discovered this, and I’ve been searching for all clues as to whether the child survives. You could wake well-rested and ride home when the weather has improved.”

“Aye, Clara mentioned your quest. She even suggested, well…”

Brady furrowed his brow, but Emerson didn’t elaborate. Her cheeks burgeoned with pink and she looked away. He didn’t need her to say anything else. He’d heard Clara’s gossip, for who in town hadn’t? And from the uneasy look that had fallen across Emerson’s brow, it would seem Clara had gossiped to her, too.