Bonnie, daughter of the stablemaster back home, was barely seventeen. Her father, with whom Annista was on good terms, had confided to her that though Bonnie had a place in the kitchen, which included working in the garden, what she truly longed to do was be a ladies’ maid.
Since Annista—like Robena before her—shared her mother’s aged tire woman, Morag, she had sued for Bonnie to train.
The girl, with her only since last summer, had been all thumbs at first. Since Annista was not by and large overly concerned with primping, it had not mattered. She liked Bonnie’s company and the girl had a certain talent, as it eventually emerged, for arranging hair and caring for clothing.
It occurred to Annista now that the poor lass had likely not bargained for this. As isolated as Annista, she likely missed her family.
Annista slewed around on the stool where she sat and persistently engaged Bonnie’s eyes.
“I am sorry ye ha’ been dragged into all this wi’ me.” Robena, when she’d come, had not brought a maid with her, having none of her own.
“I regret, Mistress, that ye ha’ been brought into it.” Bonnie flushed again. She had fair hair and skin that betrayed every emotion.
“Still and all, ye must be missing home.”
Bonnie scowled furiously. “Aye, indeed, last night I did, something fierce. But a ladies’ maid goes wi’ her mistress, aye?”
“Aye,” Annista said softly. “And I am that glad to have ye here. Have ye had your own breakfast this morning?”
“No’ yet, Mistress.”
“Then, pray, share mine.”
The two of them picked at the tray Bonnie had brought up while the maid finished making Annista what she calledpresentable. There’d been no time, when Father decided she should trail off to wed a MacKallan, to prepare anything approaching a trousseau. Annista had her good gown from before and the amber one that had been almost prepared, destined to become her wedding dress.
This morning she wore an older gown of dark blue with a fresh white ruff and a blue-and-gold head covering over most her hair. The familiar clothing made her feel a titch more comfortable, yet her stomach tightened when she thought about leaving the privacy of her chamber.
“Show me your sleeping place,” she told Bonnie when the girl ceased fussing. She wanted to make certain it was adequate. If there was no one here to look after her, she must be sure to look out for her maid.
The chamber turned out to be little more than a closet off the side of Annista’s chamber, barely large enough for the two of them to step into, with but a narrow bed and the boxes that contained Bonnie’s own possessions.
“Och,” Annista echoed in dismay, “this will nay do.”
“’Tis fine, mistress. Truly.”
“There’s scarce room to breathe.”
“But as I say, I ha’ it all to mysel’ and ’tis close to ye, no’ upstairs where I canna hear ye if ye call.” Their eyes met again. “Should ye need me.”
Oh.
Understanding touched Annista, leaving her profoundly moved. What did this slip of a lass think she could do to help, if worse came to worst? Still and all… When they’d left home, they’d both believed Annista was to wed Evan MacKallan, the man who had destroyed Robena.
“Thank ye,” Annista said, her eyes pricking with tears. She seldom wept, though she had—a storm of sobs, all pain and anger—when the news of Robena’s death arrived. “But ye deserve better than this pocket o’ a place.”
“I prefer it, mistress. Near to ye. Once Master Robert leaves—”
Ah, yes. Once Father left, it would be just the two of them here, among strangers.
She longed to ask if Bonnie felt the same dark and heavy foreboding she did, as if something waited to pounce upon her, but she did not feel she could phrase the question.
Aye, but judging from the look in Bonnie’s eyes, she did feel that foreboding.
Annista clasped the maid’s hand. “I am that grateful for ye. Promise ye will come to me at once if ye need aught or are treated unkindly below stairs. Or if—”
She did not complete that thought, had no need to. Bonnie nodded vigorously. “I will.”
They were in this together, Annista thought as she left the chamber. Thank God she was not alone.
