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Amelia kissed her mother on the cheek, and then took her book and bag and opened the door, a wave of cold air blowing through the house. She shivered.
But, it was not Mr. Fletcher that greeted her on the other side.
A young, dirty boy, with hardly a bit of manners, stood by the carriage and spit on the ground near her feet as he asked her, “Aye, are ye the Parker woman? Fletcher tells me I’m tae collect ye and take ye tae the castle.”
“Ah, yes, I’m Amelia Parker.”
“Well, let’s go. The carriage is here, and I’ve got other errands to run after I drop ye.” He turned without a thought to the items Amelia was carrying and sat up on the driver’s seat holding the reins to the horse in front.
Amelia turned back to her mother and smiled. Henrietta waved. Then, Amelia climbed up next to the boy on the driver’s seat, wrapped herself in the woolen blanket provided, and they left, the stone cottage getting smaller and smaller and the green hills and fields expanding.
Amelia opened her poetry book to read over her last few lines. Each day in the past week she’d been drawn outdoors by the tragic beauty of the landscape and had been attempting to pen it into words.
“Green hills that mirror the movement of my soul…”She read aloud, but then made a scoffing sound in her throat. “Ugh, that’s not good at all. Why can I not express what I want?”
She looked up, ready to feel again the beautiful pang the surrounding wilds gave her, hoping to glean inspiration from their freshness. While they rode along, she turned her eyes from side to side, taking in her new environment.
She’d always been a city girl, and London was a true city. Busy, dirty, always moving, always scheming, and so, she didn’t understand this calmness and isolation. The hills simply stood and looked on at the river and at the sea, and the fields sat quietly at attention. A cold breeze came and touched her cheek, and she felt as though it was whispering some message to her that she couldn’t understand. The fields and hills knew, but she did not. Perhaps that’s why she couldn’t create the poem she wanted. She didn’t speak the language of the land.
* * *
Fiona rung her hands in impatience, pacing from side to side in the main room of the castle. “Oh, will they never arrive?” Lady Kinnaird was dressed casually but primly with a dark gray dress and buttons down the front of her bodice. Her brown hair was pulled tightly back, and she stood with her back straight.
William came by her side, trying to offer her tea once again. “Milady, please drink it. It will calm ye.”
Fiona accepted the cup and sipped it carefully. “Och, and where is James? He hasn’t the foresight to think his mother would like him to meet her new companion?”
William smiled. Fiona only used Jamie’s Christian name when she was upset with him. He could tell she was tense.
“Milady, Jamie was out late last evenin’, and he will be on his way, I’m sure. I couldn’t find him when I’d left.”
Fiona eyed him angrily. “And you, William Fraser, both of you, heading out into the dark sectors of Brechin for women and nightly pleasures. Jamie’s father would be ashamed.” She paused and waved her hand in the air. “Och, but I suppose it’s all until you both find the right women.”
William laughed and put his hands up in defense, “I donae think any woman would be happy with the likes of me, and I think Jamie’s content with himself for the moment. Women are nothin’ but trouble.”
Fiona’s eyes narrowed, and William swallowed hard and stammered, “Forgive me, Lady Fiona, I was only jokin’.”
She smiled and pointed her finger at him, “Och, you just wait and see William Fraser. You will meet your match soon enough as my Jamie will meet his. If you both weren’t too stubborn to see it. It’s men that are the trouble, but they like to think well of themselves.” The corners of her mouth turned up, and she continued pacing after giving William the dressing-down he deserved.
William sat at a wooden bench and petted Prince Charlie. He grabbed bread from the table and ate slowly. He wasn’t worried about Jamie, and he wasn’t worried about who the companion would turn out to be. He was just excited to see whether or not his prediction would be true. Luscious treat? Or haggard schoolmistress? Whoever it might be, he would find reason to poke fun at Jamie’s discomfort.
* * *
After 20 minutes of rumbling past farms and through rocky glens, Amelia could see Kinnaird castle up ahead. She gasped and covered her mouth. It was like something from a fairytale. Stone walls rose high with pointed turrets and guard towers. Windows gleamed in the morning sun, and a lush, dense forest surrounded the castle, as if wrapping it in a protective blanket.
“Good lord!” She whispered to herself, and her eyes were wide with pleasure.
“Eh?” The boy said. “Och, that be the laird’s castle and mighty it once was, ‘til yer English came and stole it from them.”
“Excuse me, but I would never condone such treatment as stealing land.” She turned away from him, indignant, but a wave of concern suddenly flowed in. What if the Kinnaird family felt the same way as he did? She didn’t mention in her letter that she was English. What if they turned her away and she’d be right back where she started? Amelia’s stomach clenched, and she gripped her hands around the bench seat, trying to hold on to her seat and her breakfast.
They rode up the drive and outside the main wrought-iron gate, the boy stopped. He said nothing and didn’t move. Amelia realized it must be his signal to get down, and so she did, grabbing her bag along the way. But, as she came down her skirt caught on the carriage’s loose edge, and she tripped forward onto the grass, her bag spilling out, and her hair pins loosening, sending pieces of blond hair flying.
The boy laughed heartily and didn’t even check to see if she was all right before clicking the horses to head on their way. “Ye bloody deserve it, Sassenach!”
Amelia stayed on her knees, mentally checking to see if she was all right. She threw an angry glance towards the back of the boy’s head, hoping he could sense her ire. She yelled out, “Insolent boy! You’re hardly a gentleman!” hoping her anger made it all the way to him, but she doubted it made any impression.
She stood up, resolving to appear calm and collected before her new employer. She adjusted her hair pins as best she could and dusted off her dress. She bent down again to pick up her small bag of items, poetry book included.
She smiled, “I know such a place will give me the poetical inspiration I’ve been needing. God’s teeth, but it’s beautiful.” Once she collected all her things and put them in the bag, she took a deep breath of the cold winter air and stood up quickly, just in time to bash into something tall and hard.
