Page 51 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Chapter 14

Clara,

I must see you. Come to me tonight, at the Fisherman’s Retreat at 8pm, for there is something I wish to say to you in private. Please come, sweetheart.

―signed Hamilton Anderson.

23rd June 1850, Wick, Caithness, Scotland.

“You’re in a sunnier mood than ye were this morning,” Mrs Macready observed as Clara arranged her father’s dinner tray.

“Yes, I am. Do you know, I think Papa has made friends with the women of the town. You should have seen him at the church hall, laughing and chatting with them. I never thought to see it.”

“Aye, they think the world of him,” Mrs Macready admitted. “And credit where credit is due, he’s been helping them in practical ways too, though I reckon Mrs Cameron’s influence had a deal to do with it,” she added, giving Clara a sideways glance.

“So I gather,” Clara replied with a smile. “What’s she like, Mrs Macready? Should I be concerned?”

“Well, she’s nae of the same class as yer da, so if that troubles ye, ye may wish to step in. A word in her ear and she’ll back off, I reckon. But she’s a good sort, calm and no nonsense. She comes across as being a bit of a silly creature, but she’s not in the least. She’ll manage your da with her hands tied behind her back, that I will say,” she added with a laugh. “And he’ll love every minute of it, too.”

“That’s rather the impression I got, though I didn’t really speak to her,” Clara admitted, remembering Mrs Cameron’s kindness when she had helped Clara escape. “And I don’t care in the least if she’s of the same class, only that they are happy. Do you really think it’s serious? How strange to think Papa might get married again.”

“Mrs Cameron had a look in her eye that tells me she means to catch yer da, and he’s been too oblivious to notice until recently. I hear her words in some of the things he’s said of late, though. He’s softening under her influence I reckon, more thoughtful, aye. Ye ought to encourage him,” Mrs Macready said firmly. “Invite the lady to take tea with ye. If yer da is married, he’ll nae be so eager to keep ye at his side.”

Clara smiled. “Everyone is giving me good advice today,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh? Who else?” Mrs Macready asked, spooning the rich beef stew she’d made onto a plate.

“Mrs Scott.”

The spoon clattered to the table, and Clara looked around in surprise. “Don’t look so appalled. She was very kind. I know all about her and Mr Anderson too, so don’t stand there with your mouth open. It’s all over now, and I cannot blame either of them in the least for enjoying each other’s company.”

“Well,” Mrs Macready said, clearly too shocked to say more. She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the spoon, shaking her head as she carried on dishing up the meal. “Well, I never did. What did this paragon have to say to ye?” she demanded, gathering her wits at last.

“She said I ought to try crooking my finger, for Mr Anderson would come running,” Clara said a little smugly.

Mrs Macready gave a snort of amusement. “Aye, well, Mrs Scott always did ken the best way to keep a fellow on a string. Reckon ye ought to listen to her.”

“Reckon I shall,” Clara said with a laugh, hefting the tray.

Mrs Macready laughed, setting the lid back on the saucepan. “Well, if ye are nae yet ready to eat I’ll set the saucepan by the range to keep warm. There’s plenty there for ye supper, and for Jimmy too, though where that laddie has got to, I dinnae ken. Up to mischief, I dinnae doubt.”

“Playing with his friends, most likely,” Clara said soothingly, for she had come to trust Jimmy and believed he was a good boy at heart. “Goodnight, then, Mrs Macready, and thank you for everything, as always.”

Mrs Macready fastened her cloak and nodded as she reached for her bonnet. “Ye are welcome, lassie. I’ll see ye on the morrow, bright and early.”

“Well, early anyway,” Clara replied with a laugh as she carried the tray up to her father.

He was in his study, working on his sermon and humming softly under his breath.

“Papa, your dinner is ready.”

He looked up, then began hurriedly clearing space on his desk. She waited until there was room enough to set the tray down.

“My, my, that smells wonderful,” he said with anticipation, reaching for the napkin.

“Are you going out tonight?” Clara asked, watching with amusement as he dug into his dinner and nodded absently. Once he’d swallowed the mouthful, he spoke with enthusiasm.

“Yes, indeed. We have something special planned for this evening,” he added, winking at her.