Edwina (6 page)

“Never mind,” he said and gave her his
back.

Edwina stared down at the dress. He hadn’t
said anything about it when she walked in. It was certainly more
elegant than anything she’d ever worn; had it been someone else’s?
His sister’s perhaps, dead even now in the graveyard, and the dress
reminding him of the loss? Oh her mind was flying.

It was time to flee. She lifted herself from
the seat in the corner, keeping her back against the wall, and
looked for an exit. Was the only way out the double doors they had
entered? Apparently so. She would head there, smiling and talking
to this one and that one on the way and disappear down the hall,
pack her things, and ask Reardon if he might drive her back to
Edinburgh this very evening while the Scot was still at his
party.

As she slid by, a wood panel suddenly opened
and a servant appeared. “How’d you do that?” she asked, shocked.
There was no knob—at least not one she could see.

“
It is the servant’s
passageway,” the girl announced and went on her way.

Well if it opened again, she was going to
escape. Sure enough, a few minutes passed and it slipped open. This
time Edwina caught her finger in the door, almost crying out
because the very heavy door pinched her quite nicely.

The passageway stairs were steep, very
narrow, and it was dark. After several turns she opened a tiny
butler’s door and stepped into the kitchen. A room she had not seen
until now.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She slid along the kitchen
wall. “I must have made an error. Which way out?” She smiled
sweetly, hoping they would not tell their employer of yet another
faux pas by the American.

“There.” One pointed, and she was almost to
her destination when the voice of Bertie sounded in her ear.

“What ye be aboot now, lass?” Her hands were
on her ample hips.

“Oh, nothing. I was just... hungry... that’s
all . . .”

“Hungry? After the dinner ye ate and all the
food above stairs?”

She looked up at the woman. “It’s the dress,”
she said quickly, glad for a reprieve.

“What’s wrong? Have ye injured it?” Bertie
seemed very upset.

“Oh no... that’s... what
I’m worried about.” Edwina picked up the thread of
conversation.
I’m becoming quite quick in
my responses to trouble
, she thought
proudly.

“It’s... just that I don’t want to harm it
and feel I must change into my own clothes. I am very tired.” Then
she added for good measure, “I do have the beginnings of a
headache.”

Bertie did not believe her, but she allowed
her to go. “Be aboot your business then. At least ye’ve made ye’re
appearance at the laird’s party. And lay the dress across the bed –
carefully.” she replied.

“Who’s dress is this?” The words came out of
her mouth before she had time to put them back in.

Bertie’s face turned sad for a moment, “A
lady whom the Laird loved.”

“Oh.” Edwina wanted out of that dress. “I’ll
be very careful...”

“See that ye do, lass.”

“I will,” Edwina called out, but Bertie was
already gone.

Escaping from people is
difficult around this big place
, Edwina
mused as she tiptoed up the stairs, the dress lifted in both
hands.

Chapter 9

O
nce concealed in her room, exhausted, Edwina kicked off her
shoes and fell across the bed, pulling a pillow beneath her head.
“What work it is to suffer through all this fliff-fluff.” she
sighed as her eyelids fluttered. “I rather think my lifestyle much
more . . .” Her words faded away as her thoughts left
her.

The next thing she remembered was Bertie
calling to her softly. “Miss Edwina... Miss Edwina . . .”

Her eyes opened. There in the ghostly
darkness was Bertie, a candle burning, flames dancing upon her
austere face. Edwina thought her the epitome of a 1940s character
on an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

“How eerie.” Edwina tried to sit up. “Do you
always go around with a candle? Surely the electricity—”

“Works fine enough. I prefer a candle. It
wakes a soul more gently than a light turned on full in one’s
face.”

Well, what about that?
Bertie had concerns about gently waking me? How strange.
Edwina rubbed her eyes, then realized she’d
fallen asleep in the dress. She jumped up, smoothing the
skirts.

“I’m sorry, I guess I..

“There now, be gentle with the dress, lass.”
Bertie interrupted.

“What is it with this dress anyway?” Edwina
began to undo the buttons at her wrist.

“Tis nothing for ye to think aboot,” came
Bertie’s quick answer.

“That’s true,” she acquiesced. “I’m sorry,
Bertie.”

“You need not call me Bertie,” she said
smartly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” She started to say that
Bertilda was so proper and decided it may not win her any affection
from the formidable Miss Bertie.

“There, give me the dress.
And stop saying,
I’m
sorry
.”

Edwina almost said it again and stopped
herself with a finger across her lips. She handed Bertie the dress
and turned to retrieve her packed case, which still stood next to
the door. While Bertie was busy in the adjoining dressing room, she
quickly skidded the case to the end of the bed and plunked it down,
then opened it.

“Ah, I have found a nightdress for ye.” The
woman held up a pink confection to the lamplight now lit atop the
small table.

“It is much nicer than my... my . . .”

“Much nicer,” Bertie said forthrightly. So
her raggedy pajamas had not gone unnoticed by the maid. “Slip off
yer underthings, and I shall help put this over yer head. Edwina
obeyed. “We mustn’t muss yer hair.”

“Why not? I’m just going to take it down
anyway,” Edwina stated, pulling at the pins. She could not possibly
sleep with all those knots Bertie had wound into her hair. “Lass,
don’t know ye know yer manners yet? Tis my duty to unwind yer hair
and comb it free.” Bertie shook her head. Bertie was forever
feigning disgust and tired as she was, Edwina was rather sick of
it.

“
I can do it myself,
Bertie... I mean Bertilda,” she said crossly. But before she had
lifted her arms to do it, Bertie slapped her hands away, took hold
of her shoulders, walked her to the little pink flowered seat in
front of the vanity, and sat her down.

“Well.” was all Edwina could say.

“Now sit still, lass. I
have much to do yet this eve.” Edwina nearly blurted, “Well, go and
do it . . .and leave me be.” But she bit her tongue. After all, she
was a guest. And soon she would be out of this castle with all its
Scottish rules and manners. It was
au
revoir
to all plans for a sneaky getaway
this evening.

“Oh, but that feels so nice.” Edwina felt her
frustrations fly away as Bertie’s hair and scalp ministrations left
her body feeling as though she had no bones.

“Tis good for a body to relax before going to
the bed.”

Bertie’s voice had softened. Edwina, in some
far-off fashion, wondered why. She had so much to do. Suddenly she
jumped awake.

“Shouldn’t you be combing Ilana’s hair?” she
looked up at Bertie.

“That lass won’t let me lay a hand on ’er.”
Bertie’s face hardened right before her eyes.

“Why? It feels so nice... and Ilana has such
beautiful black hair . . .” her voice trailed off as her muscles
relaxed again. Bertie was running a soft brush through her hair
now.

“Tis not for me to speak of.” Bertie clamped
her lips shut.

“Ah... and not for a guest to know either,”
Edwina said.

“Right ye are lass,” Bertie agreed.

“Then we won’t speak of it . . .” Edwina’s
voice trailed off again.

“Now to bed with ye.” Bertie pulled her up
and gave her backside a little slap. Her eyes popped open. It was a
mother tap. Edwina wanted to cry—her own mother had done such
things when she was a child. She could remember distinctly.

“Well, be off with ye,” Bertie’s voice
sing-songed.

“Thank you, Bertie.” Edwina hesitated, then
hugged the woman quickly and ran for her bed. She felt like a
ten-year- old. And here she was a twenty-seven-year-old woman,
practical and quite satisfied with her life. But with a newfound
bit of humor, she reminded herself.

Edwina saw the candlelight disappear and then
heard a soft click as the door closed.

Chapter 10

M
orning came too quickly as Edwina turned in her bed, the long
gown wrapping around her like the red stripe on a white candy cane.
She pulled it free and stuck her feet atop the covers, stretching
as she woke. Why hadn’t Bertie come this morning? Surely she was up
and about. The woman probably never slept with both eyes
shut.

Her mind danced as she lifted her well-rested
body from the bed and turned on the bath water. Just as she was
slipping beneath the bubbles, she heard Bertie’s heavy
footfall.

“Lass, ye ’ave run yer own bath?”

She sounded upset. “Of course,
Bertie—Bertilda—you have plenty to do. I love this scent.”

“Don’t change the topic,”
Bertie warned. “And call me Bertilda. I’m tired of ye saying
Bertie
,” she sputtered
as she gathered Edwina’s tossed clothing.

“Yes, Bertie—I mean Bertilda,” Edwina said
sweetly. “As you wish.”

Bertie harrumphed and closed the door behind
her, opened it again, and announced, “Breakfast in an hour.” Then
she was gone.

An hour? What time was it
anyway?
For some reason this castle had no
clocks.

Edwina hummed as she shampooed her hair,
wondering which book she would read today. This was her last day at
the castle, and instead of trying to run, she had decided sometime
during the night she would make the best of things and make full
use of the library today, as, no doubt, Mr. Dunnegin and his
fiancée would be making plans for their nuptials. She happily let
her mind create a different heroine than that of Ilana for her
Scottish hero. The book would weave a much sweeter life for the
handsome Scot. Thinking thusly, she removed herself from the still
warm water, toweled try, and wrapped the cherry pink towel around
her body.

Off to her bag to find
something suitable to wear for a Sunday’s pleasure. Upon opening
her case, she picked up her Bible.
Oh
Lord, I have been so remiss.... Here I am running around with all
my worries, and I have not talked with You.
After a half hour of reading and some overdue prayer, Edwina
lifted herself from the chair and pulled on a pair of worn jeans
and a pink T-shirt. Planting her bare feet in the black flats, she
took them off again and let them dangle from her fingertips. No way
was she going to be found this day. She wanted to be
alone.

After putting her ear to the door, no sound
came. She opened it ever so slowly. The wood creaked loudly.
Tiptoeing on bare feet, she descended the long staircase
successfully and silently made her way to the library. Upon
entering she saw the drapes already open and began perusing the
book- shelves. Something caught her eye above.

Some of the oldest books lay on the top
shelf.

It must be a half story
up,
she thought, then drew the ladder
along the rails and positioned it squarely to the left so she could
reach the desired volume. Edwina climbed slowly, curled her toes
around a rung, reached for the book, and had it in her hand when a
voice sounded from behind her.

“Lass, I’ll get it.”

The heavy volume fell from her grasp, and she
tried to catch it, nearly knocking herself free of the ladder.

“Must you always come up behind me with that
shouting voice?” Edwina let loose.

“Must ye always be aboot something unsafe?”
he shouted back as he picked up the book off the floor, smoothing
the pages in his large hands. “Do ye always climb library ladders
in yer bare feet?”

Edwina looked down. Her
shoes sat at angles on the floor below.
Wouldn’t you know.

She sought another topic. “It seems I ’ave
been nothing but trouble for ye ever since I arrived,” she said
contritely and meant every word.

“Ye? Now ye speak like one of us Scots.” His
laughter boomed throughout the room, successfully announcing to
everyone where they were. So much for a quiet day alone. She slowly
descended and slipped on her shoes.

“What is the noise aboot?” Bertie stood in
the doorway, hands on hips.

“Nothing amiss, go aboot your business,
Bertilda.” The Scot’s voice held the hint that he was still laird
of the castle.

Bertie disappeared.

“After breakfast I’m leaving for the farm.
Think ye can abide here without the servants calling me back?”

He was suddenly grumpy, but
she
had
made him
laugh already this morning. “Oh yes,” Edwina said sweetly, her
hands behind her back. “I will do just fine. In fact, I was about
to read for the entire day. If you don’t mind...,” she
added.

“Do as ye wish. It is yer affair.” He
hesitated at the door. “Is there anything ye’d be needing?”

“Oh no, thank you.” Edwina moved toward him.
“You have been most kind, especially in light of all the...
well...you know... I have been a handful, and I’m sorry for any
inconvenience I have caused you. It’s because of your kindness I
have been so well received in your Scotland.”

“Nicely said.” He nodded. “Well then, I will
be aboot my business and you yers.” He bowed slightly. “Did you get
your writing done last eve?”

He had noticed her gone
early from the party
.