The castle’s kitchen was easily the most welcoming room in the building, with a cheerful fire burning in the grate and delicious smells wafting through the warm air. Everywhere Meredith looked, scullery maids rushed to and fro, all under the watchful eye of the cook, Mrs. MacDonald. A short woman with a headful of white hair, and the kind of figure that suggested she was in the habit of sampling her own food just a little too often.
“Ye, lass!” she barked as Ellen led Meredith into the room. “Give me that pot over there — and hurry up wi’ it, I daenae have all day!”
Surprised and more than a little bit scared by the woman’s harsh order, Meredith turned obediently to fetch the pot the woman indicated, only to be stopped in her tracks by a low, rumbling chuckle from the cook.
“Och, I wasnae talking to ye,” she said, reaching up to mop at her brow. “I ken better than to start giving out orders to the new mistress o’ the castle. Or so I assume, at least? I was talking to this one.”
She pointed at a small scullery maid, who appeared from behind Meredith, struggling under the weight of the heavy pot.
“Here, let me help ye with that,” she said, starting forward, but the cook got there first.
“Indeed she will not,” she said firmly, pulling out a chair at the long wooden table that occupied the center of the room. “I’ll not have the lady o’ the house working in me kitchen! Ye sit yerself here, and I'll get ye a bowl of broth; I daenae expect his Lairdship has troubled himself to make sure ye have something to eat?”
Meredith shook her head as she sank gratefully into the seat offered.
“He did say he’d arrange for something to be sent up,” she said, not wishing to appear disloyal to Ryder in front of his staff. “But... well, I suppose he must have forgotten. Lucky for me that I met Ellen here.”
“Och, aye, that one’s always turning up like a bad penny,” Cook said, rolling her eyes in the direction of the maid, who simply grinned back at her as she went to help pour the thick broth into a bowl for her mistress. “Ye can take some for herself too,” she said, her voice softer. “I daenae expect ye’ll have had much to eat, have ye?”
Meredith sat at the table and watched the exchange with interest. For all the cook’s sharp words and rough manners, it was clear that there was a good heart lurking somewhere underneath, and Meredith liked her for it already.
“As for his Lairdship,” the woman was saying now, as she energetically kneaded a lump of dough for tomorrow’s bread, “I’m sure he did forget; only his Lairdship could forget to feed the new bride he’s brought to his castle. But daenae ye fret, me lovely, we’ll look after ye here!”
Ellen underlined these words by placing a full bowl of broth in front of her, and Meredith tucked in enthusiastically. “This is so good,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food. “So, so good!”
“I like a lass who enjoys her grub,” Cook said, nodding approvingly. “And his Lairdship does too, I happen to know.”
“Why, has he brought other brides here before, then?" Meredith asked, her eyes wide. She spoke in jest, of course, but she nevertheless felt relieved as the Cook chuckled loudly in response, amused at the very idea.
“Nay,” she answered at last. “Ye’re the first. And the last, I’ll be bound, for if there’s one thing I ken about his Lairdship, it’s that he's loyal as the day is long. Once he’s made up his mind about something, there’s nae changing it."
Meredith would’ve described that as stubbornness rather than loyalty, but she let it go, curious to know more.
“I’m not actually sure he has made his mind up — about me, I mean,” she said ruefully, taking another spoonful of broth. “He daenae really speak much, does he?”
The older woman chuckled again.
“Ye’ll get used to that," she said, handing Meredith some bread to mop up her broth with. “And he’ll get used to ye, too, for that matter.”
“Have ye kent him for a long time, then?” Meredith asked, eager to speak to someone who knew him better than she did — not that it would be hard, mind you.
“Only since he became the Laird,” Mrs. MacDonald told her. “I came here after the old Laird — his faither — was gone, so I’ve only kent him as a man, not as a boy, more’s the pity. Maybe if I’d got me hands on him earlier, he’d have manners enough to look after his bride a bit better.”
“Och, I’m fine,” Meredith protested, getting up from the table. She was disappointed not to have learned more about Ryder, but pleased to at least have found some friendly faces in this strange place; it would certainly make her life that little bit easier. “At least I ken where the food is now," she smiled. “So I’ll be able to come and help meself next time I’m hungry."
“That ye willnae,” Mrs. MacDonald tutted, turning to Ellen, who stood behind her, awaiting her next orders. “Never let it be said that a single soul in Millar Castle ever has to go lookin’ for their supper. I’ll get Ellen to carry some more back upstairs wi’ ye, so ye can eat it in yer chamber.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Meredith was safely ensconced in her chamber once more, only this time with a roaring fire in the grate, courtesy of Ellen, and another tray of broth and fresh bread in front of her. The inhabitants of this castle may be woefully unprepared to receive visitors, but at least she wasn't going to starve.
“Ma and Da dinnae want me to come to work here,” Ellen was telling her now, as she gave the fire another vigorous poke. “They’d heard too many tales of the auld Laird and his ways with the maids, and they dinnae want me to end up the same way. He was a bit too free with his hands as well as his affections, if ye know what I mean.”
Meredith nodded slowly, her eyes on the girl.
“And the current Laird?” she prompted softly. “Is he the same way?”
“Och, nay!” Ellen grinned up at her, showing a row of crooked yellow teeth. “That yin’s bark’s worse than his bite. That’s nae to say his bite isnae bad enough, mind ye, but he’s nae a cruel man, or an unfair one like his Da was. I still wouldnae want to marry him, though –– rather ye than me –– but he isnae so bad. There are far worse masters, and far worse husbands too, I’ll be bound.”
Meredith continued to eat her broth as the girl chattered on. She was relieved to know Ryder was considered a decent master by his servants. “Remember,” her father had told her more than once, “ye can tell a lot about a man by how he treats those who he considers beneath him.”
It was something she had always taken to heart, but while she was pleased to hear that the Laird would at least meet her expectations in that regard, she still found it hard to think of him as a husband. He may not be cruel to her, true, but it was hard to imagine him ever being tender, either, and, for a moment, she found herself almost envying Ellen, who would never have to make the decision Meredith had, and marry a man she barely knew.
“That was delicious, Ellen, thank ye,” she said, putting down her spoon and looking imploringly at the maid. “In fact, I don’t suppose ye’d be kind enough to go back down to the kitchen and fetch me some more, would you?”
No sooner had the words left her lips, however, there was a commotion outside the chamber door, which suddenly banged open to reveal Ryder himself, his face filled with fury.
“What’s this I’m told about ye wandering the castle on yer own?” he demanded, storming into the room and making Meredith shrink back in her seat in alarm. “Ye’re the talk of the castle, woman! Meredith Quinn, wandering the castle like a ghost and giving the maidservants palpitations! What did ye think ye were doing?”
Meredith threw a swift glance at Ellen, who had leaped to her feet at her master’s entrance, and was now staring determinedly at the floor, the strings of her aprons twisted in her hands.
“I… I’m sorry, m’lady,” Ellen said, at last, still refusing to meet Meredith’s glance. “I mentioned how ye almost knocked me off me feet when I was speakin' with the scullery maid, and I suppose she must have passed on the story once we’d left the kitchen.”
“News travels fast, I see,” said Meredith drily. Then, her voice softer, “It’s all right, Ellen, you’re nae in trouble. But I’d be very much obliged if ye could go and fetch me that broth now.”
Grateful to be excused, Ellen swiftly left the room, giving Ryder a wide berth as she did so.
“Well,” he growled impatiently as the door closed behind the maid. “Do I have to ask ye twice? What were ye thinking, creeping around the place without so much as a by-your-leave?”
“I do beg yer pardon, sir,” Meredith said stiffly, drawing herself up to her full height, inconsiderable though it was, “But I had nay idea that I was to be a prisoner in me room. Am I to understand that I may nae leave without yer lairdship’s express permission, then?”
“Aye,” said Ryder after a moment’s hesitation. Then, apparently reconsidering, “I mean… nay. I don’t mean for ye to be a prisoner, that is. But ye cannae just wander where ye will. These corridors are dark and uneven. Ye could hurt yerself, or someone else, as ye apparently discovered with yer carelessness!”
“But no one was harmed,” Meredith countered calmly, refusing to allow the spark of anger that his words had kindled in her to take light. “Indeed, quite the opposite, for I made myself a fine new friend. Two, in fact.”
“A friend, is it?” Ryder was incredulous. “The maidservant isnae yer ‘friend,’ lass. And the servants aren’t here to sit nattering by the fire for yer entertainment. That’s nae what I pay them for. I’ll be having words with that girl when I find her!”
“Indeed ye willnae,” Meredith replied, her green eyes flashing in anger. “Ellen was merely doing as I bid her, and if I’m to be the mistress of this castle –– ” she raised an eyebrow to silence the objection she could sense on the tip of his tongue, “then I should be free to ask her to do as I wish. Perhaps if ye’d provided me with some food and warmth, as ye promised, I wouldnae have had to take matters into me own hands. So, nay, sir, ye will nae take Ellen to task, I willnae stand for it.”
She glared at him, doing her best to look imposing in spite of her small stature.
“In fact,” she continued, as inspiration struck, “I think I’ll take Ellen as me personal maid from now on, if it pleases ye. I’ve rather taken a liking to her.”
* * *
Ryder stared at her for a second, dumbstruck. Had she been a man, he would have struck her for her impertinence. But here she stood before him, a woman — and one who was very much at his mercy, despite all of her attempts to seem brave. It was almost intolerable.
“Dammit, woman,” he spat out at last. “Do ye really think ye can come into me castle –– me home –– and tell me what to do in it and how to run it?”
Meredith smiled suddenly –– a broad, sunny smile that Ryder almost found himself returning in spite of himself.
“Aye,” she said simply, her voice low. “Aye, I do think that. What did ye think a wife would do, yer Lairdship?”
Again, she turned those wide, innocent eyes upon him, and again he hesitated, not knowing how to respond. There were several roles he had expected his wife might perform for him, he had to admit. It was just that none of them were ones he felt able to explain to her then and there, and none of them had involved him being so thoroughly scolded by her, within mere hours of her arrival.
As no response seemed appropriate to her last question, Ryder took the only option remaining to him, turning quickly on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him in an impotent gesture of outrage.
* * *
A few minutes later, however, the door opened once more, and Ellen’s head poked around it, her smile wide on her freckled face.
“Ye’ll never guess who I just bumped into in the hallway,” she said cheerfully, carrying another bowl of broth into the room and setting it carefully on the table. “It was his Lairdship! And he tells me I’m to be yer new maid, m’lady! What d’ye think o’ that?”
Meredith smiled as she took up the broth and warmed her hands on the bowl. Perhaps Ellen was right, she thought, bringing it to her lips and blowing softly to cool it. Maybe his bark was worse than his bite after all.