Chapter 5
Kyleakin Village – Festival Day
Una locked the doorto her small sewing school and pocketed the key with a satisfied smile.
Summer.Blessed, glorious summer.
Her cousins had departed a week prior for Edinburgh, their trunks loaded with the finest garments Una's skill could create, their heads filled with dreams of wealthy courtiers and advantageous marriages.The parting words they'd offered her had been predictably cutting.
"I daresay we'll return engaged to noblemen whilst ye're still arguing with the weaver over the price of linen."
"To think we'll soon be dining in the king's castle while you'll be tending the fire alone in this hovel."
And even her aunt had thought it necessary to chime in."If only yer ma had not married beneath her, perhaps ye'd be fit for royal court.I fear ye have inherited her stubborn spirit."
Una had smiled through every barb, nodded through every slight, and waited until the sound of their horses faded before she leaned against her closed door and breathed freely for the first time in months.
Which meant Una had nearly three months of peace.
Well, relative peace.She would still need to earn coin, which meant taking commissions and working on pieces she could sell at market.But that was different from the daily grind of teaching girls who looked down their noses at her while simultaneously demanding she teach them skills fine enough to impress royalty.
With happy thoughts putting a spring in her step, she adjusted the basket on her arm and set off down the lane toward the village proper.The summer festival had just begun, and she planned to enjoy every moment of it.
She had dressed carefully for the occasion, wearing one of her newer creations – a gown she'd spent the winter months perfecting.The kirtle was a soft sage green, made from fine wool she'd bought from a traveling merchant.The bodice fit perfectly, the result of multiple fittings and techniques she'd learned from her grandmother.
But it was the embroidery that truly made the gown special, giving it the look of something a fine lady would wear.
Una had spent countless evenings working by candlelight, using silk threads in cream and gold to create delicate patterns along the neckline and cuffs.There were tiny flowers intertwined with leaves and vines, each petal formed with the split stitch embroidery that separated true masters from merely competent sewers.
Her arisaidh – a length of wool in deep brown – was draped over her left shoulder and pinned with a simple bronze brooch.She had woven the trim herself, the pattern created by carefully counting threads and varying the over-under of the weft, producing texture without the need for different-colored yarns.
The lane was quiet that afternoon, most people already at the festival.Una could hear music and laughter carrying on the warm breeze, and could smell roasting meat and fresh bread.
She found herself humming as she walked, her basket swinging gently.In her pocket were a few coins saved from her teaching wages, enough to buy some ribbons and perhaps a honey cake or two.She might even commission a new length of linen from the weaver if the price was right.
Perhaps she would visit her friend Bella MacKinnon tomorrow and bring her godson baby Quinn a gift from the market.Una smiled at the thought.Seeing Bella so happy, so loved, so completely content with her husband, the fearsome Laird Boyd MacKinnon, and their baby son, made Una's heart warm.When Bella and Boyd had named Una as Quinn's godmother, she had been deeply touched.At least there were some people in the world who did not find her beneath their notice.
It was through Bella's encouragement that Una had decided to open her sewing school and set up shop permanently in the nearby village.Within weeks, she'd had a steady stream of customers and a means of making coin for herself.The MacKinnons were her staunchest supporters, and Una would be forever grateful for their friendship.
