“Some things do not change.” Hugo motioned for Elspeth to refill his cup again.
“He would run off with the other farm lads, leavin’ me standin’ by the barn, me stomach twisting into a knot tighter than any fisherman’s. The rejection was so blunt and public… He made me feel… small. Insignificant.”
“Well, that is hard to imagine,” he said with a laugh. “Yet, I can imagine hard. Go on.”
“I had crept back home, tryin’ to hide the tremor in me chin, but me maither, bless her keen eyes, saw everything. She found me huddled by the hearth, pretending to mend a tear in me apron. ‘What ails ye, me lassie?’she asked. ‘Yer face is pale, and yer stomach sounds like a storm brewin’. Do ye think ye ate somethin’ foul?’”
“A mother always knows,” Hugo remarked with a smile.
“Aye! I mumbled something about a bad berry, but she just smiled and said, ‘Aye, a bad berry can sit heavy in the stomach. But I ken just the remedy.’ She turned to Morag, me nursemaid, who was hummin’ softly as she spun wool by the window—as she did with me maither on most days I was hurryin’ about thevillage—and told her to fetch some chamomile tea, so I asked her what that was.”
Elspeth got choked up then, which prompted Hugo to hand her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes delicately, then poured more tea.
“She said it was something that would help. The knot in me stomach began to loosen, even just from their kindness. We walked to the edge of the meadow, the three of us. I can remember the afternoon sun, warm on me face. Me maither’s skirts rustling through the tall grass. Morag telling me: ‘There, Elspeth. See them? Like tiny suns, they are. Wait until ye see how they bloom in the water. Pick some for us, lass.’”
Hugo nodded, the faintest curve on the corner of his lips.
“I can remember me maither kneelin’ beside me, her movements fluid, before she began plucking the flowers. ‘Each one holds a little bit of the sun.And when brewed, that peace settles into ye. If ye cannae find chamomile, perhaps look up at the sky. Ye will find peace there, me love.’”
“I can see why you enjoy it so much,” Hugo remarked as he drained his cup.
“The simple, repetitive motion of pluckin’ flowers was calmin’, and for a few precious moments, Hamish and his cruel words faded away with the passin’ wind. Back home, me maither heated water in the iron kettle over the fire to brew me potion.”
“You are a sorceress by birth, then,” Hugo teased. “Seems your mother shares your talents.”
“Aye, I learned every good thing I ken from her. She was taken from me too early, but that is a story for another day. So, aye! When the tea was ready, me maither poured it into me favorite mug, the one with the chipped rim from when I first learned to drink from it. It was a pale golden color, fragrant and earthy. I wrapped me hands around the warm ceramic, feelin’ the heat seep into me cold fingers. The first sip was like a gentle hug, spreadin’ warmth through me belly, easing the tension that had coiled there.”
“Tell me more,” Hugo urged, leaning forward in his seat.
“‘There now,’me maither whispered, brushin’ a stray strand of hair from me face. ‘See? The sun’s peace.’And it was, Yer Grace. The tea, brewed with love, dinnae just settle me stomach. It settled me heart. When I feel alone, I go back to that moment, surrounded by the quiet comfort of me home and her unwaverin’ love. I was loved for bein’ me.”
A hint of sadness flickered in his eyes, so intense that it shook her to her core. He looked down, his brow furrowed, his jaw tense.
Elspeth cleared her throat, “It is gettin’ late. I should get some sleep. We have many preparations to see to before the big party.”
She began to gather the pot and porcelain cups hurriedly, nearly knocking them together.
“Leave it,” Hugo urged. “We have servants to take care of these things.”
“I willnae leave it. I will leave it better than I found it. It is me way.”
“Indeed,” Hugo said as she held the dishes to her chest and hurried out of the room.
After taking the pot and cups to the kitchen, which the maids chastised her politely for, Elspeth went up to her chambers. She shed her clothes, which still held glue, shreds of paper, and glitter. She saw the pieces fall to the floor, but she did not have the strength to kneel down and clean up one more thing.
Instead, she strode over to her wardrobe and grabbed her softest nightdress. She slid the cool, silk fabric over her body and took pleasure in the simplicity of the sensation.
Then, she walked over to the window, the coolness of the late summer evening a welcome friend. She looked up at the stars, sticking her head slightly out of the window to admire Orion’s belt. She used to look at it with her father, lying on bales of hay outside of their humble home.
Suddenly, she heard a noise to her right and looked down at the street below.
There is nothin’ there, except maybe a stray cat.
Thwack.
She heard it again and looked to her right, where Hugo had thrown open the shutters in his room. She had forgotten just how close their rooms were, especially given the twists and turns of the grand second floor. His room had to be enormous, especially if the entrance is so far down the hall. She had only seen it once and did not have the opportunity to fully explore it.
“Do you often stick your head out of windows?” Hugo asked.
