Page 16 of Return to Wildsyde

“There’s bread,” she offered hopefully.

He looked at her as if she were dim-witted. “Aye, ’tis often the way with soup. It comes with bread.”

“Not always, and not bread like this. Mrs Baillie wanted you to try it,” she added glibly, too eager to know what he thought of it to act with a grain of sense. “I’m to tell her what you thought.”

He set down his spoon with a huff of annoyance and glared at the bread like it had offended him. “It does nae look any different from usual,” he said suspiciously.

“But does it taste different?” she pressed, determined to get an answer from him.

Giving a long-suffering sigh, he picked up a piece of bread and took a massive bite. Luella watched, rather fascinated, as he chewed.

“Tastes the same,” he said with a shrug.

Luella grinned, despite knowing better. “Really? Just as good as usual? No difference at all?”

He gave her an odd look. “What have ye done? Is it poisoned?” he demanded, glaring at the bread and then at her.

“Of course it isn’t poisoned,” she retorted crossly. “It’s just that I made it and I’ve never made bread before. I just wondered if it was as good as Mrs Baillie’s.”

“It is nae as good,” he said, his expression hard.

“But you said—”

“’Tis not even close, and I’ll thank ye to leave my food in her hands. Dinnae come here again.”

Luella stiffened but held her tongue. She had asked for it. It would have been far wiser to just give him the tray and leave.

“Very good, my lord,” she said with as much ice in the words as she could muster, before dipping a curtsey and hurrying back to the door.

“I know what ye are about, Miss Fulbright, and it will nae work,” he warned her.

Luella turned at the door and glared back at him. “You know nothing at all,” she said bitterly, and went out before he could say another word.

Chapter 6

Muir,

I don’t know if you are right to stay away. I know I got my head bitten off. I have nae met the cousins yet. After getting such a warm welcome, I’ve spent a few days catching up with people and visiting old Mr Clugston. He’s in good spirits, despite his rheumatism playing him up. He’s finally given up riding, though I understand his son is teaching Master Fulbright. I’ll let you know more once I’ve met them. I’m going back in the morning so we shall see.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Hon’ble Mr Hamilton Anderston to The Hon’ble Mr Muir Anderson (younger brothers of The Right Hon’ble Lyall Anderson, Viscount Buchanan)

15th May 1845, Wildsyde Castle, The Highlands of Scotland.

“The pony is called Adaira. She’s a Highland pony, and she’s black with the longest tail you ever saw. I fed her a carrot and Mr Clugston said she liked me. I rode her around and trotted, though I felt like a sack of potatoes, but I didn’t fall off, and Mr Clugston said I did really well. Then I brushed her down and cleaned her hooves and I had to polish the tack too, I like the smell of the polish, it’s much better than cleaning silver, and I’m going to have another lesson before breakfast tomorrow if I get up early enough, and I can do it every morning before school as well, if I want.”

Jack finally paused for breath long enough to stuff half a sausage in his mouth. Luella blinked hard, her throat growing tight, for she had not seen him this happy or excited since he was a little boy and their mother still lived.

“Well,” she said, once she could trust her voice again. “It sounds like you are a natural and I can’t wait to meet Adaira. Perhaps Mrs Baillie will let me take her an apple.”

Jack grinned at her, helping himself to two more sausages. His morning’s riding lesson had clearly given him an appetite. “I told Mr Clugston I could help in the stables today, instead of in the kitchen. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” Luella said, delighted that he had found something he was interested in doing. “Just make sure you do as you are told and don’t get under people's feet, or ponies' feet either, come to that.”

“I won’t. Have you seen him at all?” Jack asked, frowning a little.

Luella did not need him to explain who he was referring to. “No, not once since I took the soup up to him. I’ve seen Lady Morven, though. She seemed pleased that I was making myself useful, though I think she still suspects my motives.”

Jack scowled at that. “They’ve no right to—”