Authors: Bess McBride
“Didn’t all the Highlanders fight against the Crown?” I was completely baffled.
“Noooo, mistress. I ken see that ye know naethin of our troubles in Scotland. Not all the clans and not all clan members sided wi Prince Charlie’s cause to retake the throne. The auld laird was one of them. Because he sent men to fight for the Crown, he kept his land and his castle, but he wasna verra popular in the Highlands. He wasna the only one to turn his back on the bonnie prince though. There were others.”
She seemed genuinely distraught, and I wondered if the wounds post-Culloden really lasted generations into the future.
“That was a long time ago,” I said, almost to myself.
Mrs. Agnew, on the point of lowering me into the bed like a child, paused.
“Nay, mistress. The battle at Culloden was but a few months ago. Some Anderson clan members did fight with the Jacobites, but they all died in battle. It broke the auld laird’s heart. Now, few want to stay in the Highlands. Many have moved away to the colonies or to work in factories in the cities.”
I smiled.
“The colonies aren’t that bad, Mrs. Agnew. Look at me. I survived. They’re really quite lovely.”
For a second, though I was on my second wind and didn’t believe for one minute that I had traveled in time, I felt a longing for America so painful that it took my breath away. It was rather soon to be homesick. I’d only been gone for about a week.
“I canna stay and chat, Mistress Pratt. The soldiers will be wanting their food and drink. It is late, but they dinna care.”
I slipped back into the cocoon of the mattress, luxurious bedding and warm fire. Mrs. Agnew blew out my candle, picked hers up and slipped out of the room.
This time, I did not fall instantly asleep but listened for sounds in the castle. I heard the rain on the windows and a howling that sounded like wind, and I was grateful not to be stuck out in it.
Captain Jones was certainly a handsome man, as different from Colin as day and night. He seemed to represent something a bit more elegant, more refined than Colin. Colin, on the other hand, had a wildness about him that all the finery of the castle furnishings couldn’t tame. Perhaps it was just the riotous mass of dark curls and dark beard that gave him that impression. I recalled that the captain was clean shaven, leaving his expression open.
The evening with Colin had been lovely, informative, and companionable—if a little crazy. I had fallen hook, line and sinker for the time travel theory, and he had played along wonderfully, acting as astonished as I could ever wish when I told him of the planes, trains and automobiles I had used to get to Scotland, not to mention the bus.
But a few minutes on my own, and I had come back to reality. I didn’t know who the actors were in the English uniforms—they could be the national Scottish rugby team, for all I knew—but they were no more products of the eighteenth century than Colin was.
I closed my eyes and wriggled my toes, just to make sure they were still mine. Nope. I was still in the twenty-first century, and I would go home fairly soon. But maybe not too soon.
Chapter Four
Light snuck in through a crack in the red velvet curtains that Mrs. Agnew had drawn against the night, and I opened one eye, then the other.
I slipped out of bed and pulled out the chamber pot with distaste. If I was going to do anything today besides find out where the bus was, I was going to find the bathrooms in the castle. But for now, I pretended I was camping—or in an eighteenth-century castle—and I used the pot.
I rinsed my face and hands in cool water and turned to look at the fire. It burned low but had not gone out. Shivering, I grabbed the tartan from the foot of the bed, wrapped it around myself and scurried to the fire. Lowering myself to the settee in front, I eyed my clothing on the rack. A look over my shoulder showed the amber skirt and bodice still draped over the chest at the foot of the bed.
Given the more rational me that morning, I decided to slip back into my jeans and long-sleeved blouse. I’d had enough of traipsing about in an eighteenth-century costume. It had been fun while it lasted, but if I was to try to rejoin the tour, I thought I ought to do so in modern clothing, if only to avoid questions. I had no intention of telling anyone on the tour about my experiences at Gleannhaven Castle, or of Colin. Unless he wanted me to advertise his gimmick, that was. Then I would. Because it was pretty good!
A tap on my door brought Mrs. Agnew into the room. She brought the girl who had served us supper last night. Appearing to be about sixteen, the diminutive dark-haired girl bobbed a curtsey and picked up the basin of cold soapy water with which I had washed. She turned toward the side of the bed, bending as if to retrieve something from underneath.
I jumped up.
“Oh, I’ll get that!” I said frantically. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find the bathroom. I hope that was a chamber pot, because I had to use it.”
The young girl stilled and eyed me with bright cheeks on her pale skin. Mrs. Agnew lifted her dark-gray eyebrows.
“Mistress Pratt!” Her voice held a chastising note. “Pot indeed,” she said. “Sarah will empty the necessary and see to yer fire.” She nodded to the girl to continue, and I cringed as Sarah poured the contents of the washbasin into the chamber pot and hauled the heavy porcelain thing out the door.
“The laird thinks ye might be more comfortable taking breakfast in yer room. The soldiers have already eaten and are lying about in the kitchen, getting in Mrs. Renwick’s way, but Captain Jones is dining downstairs at present.”
“Oh!” I said. “No, I’d like to go downstairs, if that’s all right. I’ll just get dressed now.” I turned and retrieved my shirt and jeans from the rack.
Mrs. Agnew, in the act of picking up the amber dress, gasped.
“No, mistress, ye canna wear that clothing, not if ye wish to take yer breakfast downstairs. It isna proper for a lady to wear trousers.”
I sighed heavily. “Mrs. Agnew, is there no way, no way at all, that you guys can just lighten up for a minute? I’m much more used to my clothing. I mean, it was great getting all dressed up for the night, but I don’t want to drag heavy skirts around for however long I’m going to be here.”
Which reminded me I really needed to get Colin to make a phone call for me. Last night had been one thing, it had been late, but now I needed to contact the tour company and see what could be done to retrieve me. I missed my suitcase, my toiletries, my clean underwear.
Mrs. Agnew shook her head gently but determinedly, and she took my clothes from my hands.
“I will fetch ye another dress, something more suitable for daytime. Sarah will fetch ye some hot water to wash with.”
The hot water sounded nice, and I guessed I had no other choice. Mrs. Agnew was as fanatical about role-playing as was Colin.
“Okay,” I said, resigning myself. I settled onto the settee again. Sarah returned in a moment with the empty chamber pot and a pitcher, which I assumed carried hot water. She put the porcelain containers in their respective places and came over to the fire to add some logs. John had said the Highlanders had used peat and kelp, but I guessed Colin was wealthy enough to provide wood for fuel. He certainly had enough trees on his property.
“Where are the bathrooms, Sarah?”
She rotated on her knees and turned dark eyes on me.
“Bathroom, mistress? I dinna ken the word. Do ye wish to bathe?”
Sure, that sounded good! Breakfast with the good-looking Captain Jones could wait. I wondered where Colin was. Probably taking a hot shower somewhere in the castle
I nodded.
“Yes, I do.”
“There is a bathing tub just behind that screen, mistress. I’ll bring ye some more hot water then, shall I?”
I looked at her in surprise and jumped up to look behind an oversized oak-paneled screen. There, resting on another tartan carpet, was a big brass freestanding tub, remarkable for a lack of visible plumbing. This antique certainly looked as if it was the sort of tub one filled by hand rather than turned on the taps.
I came back around the screen to see Mrs. Agnew enter the room again.
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, I guess,” I said with a heavy sigh.
“What’s this?” Mrs. Agnew said. She carried a woven skirt and bodice jacket in a lovely shade of slate blue. The color reminded me of Colin’s eyes.
“The mistress wants to bathe,” Sarah said, rising from the fire.
“Well, what I really wanted was a bathroom,” I said sheepishly. “I’m fine for now. I just really want to know where a working bathroom is. I’m completely disoriented right now.”
“I dinna ken such,” Mrs. Agnew said with drawn brows. “Ye see the bathing tub afore ye. Yet ye dinna wish a bath?”
Gosh, the women were confusing me even more, if that was possible.
I shook my head. “No, not right now. I’ll be fine. Is that for me?”
Mrs. Agnew eyed the clothing in her hand. “Aye, a dress suitable for a cold, rainy day. Her ladyship had many bonnie dresses. It is a fine thing to see them worn again. Ye have the look of her.”
“I do?” I caught my reflection in the mirror. My long brown hair was tangled from the bedding. Short and slender, I had always dreamed of growing taller, but that had not come about. I looked just like my mother. As with Sarah, my pale cheeks were bright red, and I knew that could be due to the warming of the fire or anxiety—or a combination of both.
“Aye! She was a tiny thing but full of life. I miss her greatly,” Mrs. Agnew said with a break in her voice. She cleared her throat and turned to the maid. “Sarah, go downstairs and help Grace and Mrs. Renwick in the kitchen. She’s fair tearing her hair out, poor woman. I will tend to the mistress.”
Sarah left the room silently, and Mrs. Agnew pulled the tartan from my shoulders.
“I can dress, Mrs. Agnew.”
“I dinna doubt that ye can, mistress, but it will take ye longer to do so by yerself. Breakfast is almost over, and unless ye wish to take a tray in yer room, we must hurry.”
“Okay,” I said in resignation. My face flamed as I peeled off my nightgown, and Mrs. Agnew hesitated, eying my panties for a moment, before she started throwing garments over my head. On went a soft linen chemise, the hoop petticoat and the dress. The stays, which she layered somewhere in the middle of the assortment of clothing, were pulled rigid, far more tightly than I had the prior evening.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed.
“I havena pulled yer stays tight, mistress. I can see from yer waist that ye are nae accustomed to them. Meaning no disrespect, but yer dress didna hang right last night without the pannier petticoat. Ye look much better today.”
She buttoned the front of the bodice, and I looked down at my huge hips created by the pannier under the skirt. How was I supposed to move in the thing? Left on the bed where she’d laid the rest of the clothing was something resembling bloomers and white knit stockings. She picked up the bloomers.
“Since ye wear some sort of underclothing from the colonies, we can do away wi these, but yer limbs will chill if ye dinna don the stockings.”
So, on went the stockings, looking a lot like something my grandmother had worn, attached to garter straps on the corset.
Mrs. Agnew tsked as I slipped into my athletic shoes. “Her ladyship did have smaller feet than ye. It is a shame, but no matter. Yer shoes look very sturdy.”
I grinned at her approval.
“Do ye wish me to attend to yer hair?”
“Oh, ummm, no. I got it.” I retrieved my ponytail holder from the dressing table, dragged the comb through my hair and wrapped the band around my hair, thinking to leave it hanging.
“Do ye wear this horse’s mane in the colonies, then?” Mrs. Agnew asked. She reached into a tiny drawer and retrieved some ominous-looking pins before winding my ponytail around my head and securing it.
“Yes?” I said. I tried to remember if I’d seen any Scottish women or girls wearing ponytails since I’d been in the country, and I was pretty sure I had. Another sigh from me.
I followed Mrs. Agnew downstairs and into the dining room. Surprisingly, for it felt like we’d been dressing for hours, Captain Jones was still sitting at the table. He did appear to be done and was enjoying a cup of coffee. Colin was nowhere to be seen.
George met us at the door and pulled out a chair for me across the wide table from Captain Jones. Mrs. Agnew flew out of the room as Captain Jones jumped up at my entrance and bowed at the waist. I wondered where the housekeeper was off to in such a hurry, and I felt bad that she’d taken so much time helping me dress.
In the light of day, though the heavy green velvet curtains had been pulled back to reveal a gloomy, rainy morning, Captain Jones was even more handsome than I had thought. His blond hair, sky-blue eyes and pale aquiline face gave him the quintessentially English appearance. Instead of a sweater-vest and corduroy trousers, he wore his bright red-and-black uniform with shiny brass buttons and gold-threaded epaulettes.
“Good morning, Mistress Pratt,” he exclaimed. “May I pour you some coffee?”