Page 43 of The Last Debutante
No one spoke. No one even moved.
Still in a curtsy, Daria glanced up at the laird—whose eyes, she was not pleased to see, were glimmering with delight. He put out his hand to help her up; she took it, squeezed hard, and rose. “Thank you for the privilege of dining in your company this evening.”
“Thank the laird, then,” Aileen said, and turned away. “We didna invite you.”
“Aileen,”Robbie Campbell hissed.
“What?” Aileen said. “She’s held for ransom, no’ to entertain.”
Daria didn’t have the chance to be offended, for Geordie scribbled something on his slate and handed it to the laird, who smiled and handed it back. “That’s a wee bit pessimistic, Geordie. I feel confident we’ll get at least a few pounds for her.”
Daria blinked with surprise; the laird laughed.
But the family was not in a laughing mood, and Robbie said something in Gaelic that suddenly had all of them talking at once. Daria stepped back, fairly certain that whisky decanters would begin to fly at any moment. Certainly hands were flying and voices were raised, and Geordie’s chalk on the slate grew so insistent that Daria feared he would break it clean in two. She was not welcome at their table, just as Campbell had said, and it was made all the more evident that they were speaking about her when Hamish Campbell squinted at her and said, “But sheseemsrather bonny, aye?”
All right, then. Daria considered herself a good judge of when one should quit a room, and she was thinking of slipping out the door, but then the laird said something in a quiet voice that made everyone stop talking. He coolly looked at each of them as if expecting a response, and when he received none, he smiled tightly at Daria. “Our supper is served, then,” he said, and offered his arm once more.
Daria looked at the family standing behind him, but he shifted, blocking her view. “Donna lose your courage now, lass,” he muttered.
He thought she had courage? Surprised, Daria looked up at the laird, but he had already turned his head and was speaking to his cousin as he escorted her.
They entered another chamber immediately adjacent, a small dining room Daria had not yet seen in her wanders. The ceiling was low and held up by beams that were a foot thick. A table that seated only eight stood before a blazing hearth. Across from the hearth was a wall covered with a frayed tapestry that depicted unicorns happily leaping through flowers in what she supposed was Campbell territory. It was a cozy dining room, one where she could imagine the family had gathered to dine intimately for generations.
The butler pulled out a chair and gestured for Daria to sit. She reluctantly took it and sat directly across from Aileen. Daria smiled on the off chance that it might thaw the woman’s icy countenance, but she suspected Aileen was determined not to thaw.
To add to Daria’s discomfort, Geordie sat on her right, his slate at the ready. Across from him sat Uncle Hamish, flanked by Aileen and Robbie.
Hamish smiled at Daria. “Quite like the mutton.”
“We are not dining on mutton tonight, Uncle,” Robbie said.
“Quite like the mutton all the same.”
Daria smiled at the old man. He was one of the few Campbells who did not seem to harbor any hard feelings for her—he grinned right back.
“Mr. Campbell, I have longed to meet you,” Daria said, meaning it quite sincerely.
Geordie scribbled on his slate and handed it across the table to Robbie. Robbie held it out, tilting his head to the right, studying it. “I make out the letter O,” Robbie said and looked at Geordie. “The rest of the word is missing.”
“Allow me, husband,” Aileen said, and reached across Hamish and took the slate from Robbie, studied it a moment, then looked up at Daria. “Owe,” she clarified. “I believe he means that you owe our uncle an apology. I agree.”
“Aileen,” the laird said low.
“I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding with my grandmother, Mr. Campbell,” Daria said quickly, wanting to address the issue that seemed to float like a dark cloud above them.
“’Twas no misunderstanding,” Aileen said. “It was thievery—”
“Ba!”Robbie said sharply, and Aileen pressed her lips tightly together and looked away.
“It was not thievery,” Daria said evenly. “There has been a terrible misunderstanding, I grant you, but my grandmother believes it was a gift.”
Hamish smiled.
Geordie gestured adamantly for his slate, but the laird was quick to take it before Aileen could return it to him. “There is no point in debating it now. I will remind you all that Miss Babcock will be treated as we would treat any guest to Dundavie.” He looked pointedly at Geordie. “We pride ourselves on our hospitality, do we no’, brother?”
Geordie glowered; the laird handed the slate to Young John, who returned it to Geordie.
An uncomfortable silence began to thicken around the table. Daria sipped the wine a footman poured for her and thought of Lady Eberlin. When she had assumed the title of countess of Ashwood, as was her right, Lady Eberlin had not been well received in Hadley Green. Before her arrival, her cousin had done some dishonest things in Lady Eberlin’s stead, and the people of Hadley Green were slow to forget or forgive. But Lady Eberlin had surely inched her way into the hearts of them all. She’d done it by taking care to speak to everyone, to learn something about them, to make them feel important.
