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She sounded more confident than she felt, however. She and the laird had been more or less running the estate together for the last few years, but she had a feeling that when it was in the hands of one of her incompetent siblings, it would go to rack and ruin.
* * *
Bernard yawned as he came within sight of the castle. He was exhausted but glad he had spent some time in the village, for it had given him an insight into what the villagers thought of their laird, lairds-to-be, and Janice.
He had talked at some length to Jim Elliott, whose opinion of Laird Stewart was that he was a good, caring man with a heart of gold.
“I can see him in Janice,” he remarked, “but no’ those eejit sons o’ his. He doesnae deserve boys like that.” He shook his head and tutted.
“Everybody says that,” Bernard remarked, laughing as he sipped his ale.
“That is because it is true, lad.” Jim raised his ale to his lips, shaking his head.
Now, as Bernard gazed up at the layered turrets of the castle, he thought about the twins. He knew that, for Laird Ballantine’s plan to succeed, one of the weak-minded brothers would be a perfect solution, but he could not help but be sorry that Janice would not be doing the job of looking after the estate. She deserved it, and she was good at it.
Then he cursed himself.Bernard Taggart!he thought viciously.You have been led astray by a pretty face and a shapely body, and you know that is not part of our plan.
He sighed and urged his horse into a trot. When he reached the stables, he kept a look out for the little girls, Flora and Ailsa, but rather, to his disappointment, he could not find them. Damn. What was happening to him? He was going soft in his old age. He had never seen himself as a father, but when he observed Janice having so much fun with the little ones, he felt a sting of jealousy. Then he realized he was thinking of Janice and children at the same time again.
He decided to go to bed and hoped that he woke up in the morning feeling more like his usual rational self. It must be all the ale he had drunk that was making him fantasize like this. Yes, that was it.
He climbed the stairs, intending to pass the great hall on the way to his bedroom, when he saw Janice again, and this time she was doing something else that was utterly astonishing. It was completely out of character with his notion of an upper-class and wealthy young woman. Janice had her arms around one of the maidservants and was whispering to her softly, seemingly comforting her while the young woman wept on her shoulder.
A pitcher of ale lay smashed at her feet, and her hand was bleeding where she had cut in on the broken glass. Janice was holding her lace-edged handkerchief against the wound, uncaring of the damage the blood was causing to the fine material.
“Be at ease, Josie,” she murmured. “I am here, and I will look after you. Go to Aggie and get her to tend to this, then rest for a few moments. You have had a shock. I will have someone else deliver the ale.”
The girl looked at her gratefully. “Thank ye, mistress,” she murmured. “Ye are sae kind. What about this mess?” She looked at the pool of ale and shards of glass on the floor.
“You cannot clean that with a cut hand,” Janice said firmly. “I will have one of the kitchen maids come to take care of it. Go now.”
The girl smiled at Janice but said nothing. Her expression, a mixture of gratitude and fondness, said it all for her before she turned and made her way back to the kitchen.
Bernard was shocked. He had never seen anything like the sight of the mistress of a castle comforting a maid before, and he was lost in admiration for Janice Stewart. She was unlike any other woman of her class he had ever met.
Presently, she looked around to see Bernard staring at her, and she lifted her chin to stare defiantly back at him, her grey eyes resembling storm clouds.
He moved toward her, their gazes still locked, until he was standing just outside the puddle of ale and glass on the floor.
“What happened?” he asked, pointing to the mess.
Janice sighed angrily. “My brother Alasdair,” she replied tersely. “He was stumbling back into the hall after going to relieve himself when he bumped into poor Josie. He is thoroughly inebriated, and he bumped into her. It was not her fault, and all might have been well if he had just left her alone, but he struck her on the back of her head—deliberately, I might add, then told her it was all her fault, and she stumbled. This was the result.” She indicated the shambles at her feet, shaking her head. “And if I could have him flogged, I would.”
Bernard watched the anger suffusing her beautiful face, flushing her cheeks and making a deep frown gather on her brow.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, puzzled. “She is a servant, not someone of your own station.”
Janice’s eyes blazed as she walked forward and stuck her forefinger into his chest so forcefully that he took a step backward.
“She is aperson!” she growled. “And she deserves to be treated with the same dignity as you and I do. If I do not treat her that way, I will receive contempt and disloyalty, and I would deserve it.”
“What about your brothers?” he asked. “Do they also deserve contempt and disloyalty?”
She huffed. “No doubt they do,” she replied. “But they are grown men, although sometimes I suspect that they are overgrown little boys. And although I try to keep an eye on them, they are of age, and there is little I can do about their behavior.” She grunted in frustration.
At that moment, a plump, middle-aged woman came to clean up the glass and ale on the floor. She gave a quick nod to Janice, then knelt down to her labors.
“Thank you, Bettie,” Janice said as she and Bernard moved away. “I had better take my place inside.” Her voice was reluctant as she sighed and squared her shoulders as though she was going into battle.
