Page 5 of Married for a Highland Debt
By this time, an interested crowd of spectators had gathered around them, all eager to find out what was going on. They saw their laird giving the new kitchen maid a furious, venomous gaze, then turn around and stride away.
After a few moments, a hum of conversation broke out, and Bettina caught some satisfied grins from the chambermaids who had considered her an upstart.
“Well, ye have just done yerself out o’ a job, hen,” Myra said smugly as she passed Bettina. “Serves ye right. Ye shouldnae argue wi’ the laird. ’Tis a wonder he didnae smack ye.” She walked away with a group of her best friends, giggling.
Bettina did not care about the scathing words. She felt utterly despondent. Being a servant who scrubbed floors, lit fires, and washed dishes was not the way she would have chosen to spend her life, but it had given her a way to put food on the table and a measure of self-respect. Now, through her own fault, she had nothing. The laird was not going to carry on employing a woman who had argued with him and humiliated him in front of most of his staff. She sighed and went downstairs.
“I think I will be leaving today,” Bettina said sadly as she sat down by the fire in the kitchen.
Ina came to kneel beside her. “Bridie, hen, what has got ye so upset?” she asked worriedly. “Ye look terrible! Tell us what is wrong.”
“I had an argument with the laird in front of everyone,” she answered. “He will surely turn me out, Ina.”
“What was said?” Ina asked, mystified. “He is a bad-tempered swine, but he usually doesnae pick fights.”
“He asked me about where I came from,” she began. “Then he told me I was an educated woman and asked me why I was doing this kind of work. He made me feel as though I was trying to be better than everyone else. I was embarrassed. I cannot help the way I speak, Ina. I am not trying to put on airs or look down on anyone.”
“Did ye insult him? Call him names?” Ina asked, frowning.
“No.” Bettina shook her head firmly. “I have always tried never to do that, even when I am very angry.”
Ina sighed. “He is a very strange man, lass,” she said, frowning. “Sometimes he does the opposite o’ what ye expect.”
Bettina put her face in her hands. “I will go and collect my belongings, then hope he will give me my pay.” She was trying to stay hopeful, but she knew it was a lost cause.
“Maybe he will surprise ye,” Ina said, making a valiant attempt at being cheerful. “Try sayin’ sorry.”
“Of course I will.” Bettina nodded in agreement. “Even if I do not mean it.”
Ina paused for a moment, then she said: “Ye must understand one thing, Bridie. The laird—a’ lairds—need heirs.” She frowned. “He was married once, tae a very beautiful, but very vain an’ selfish woman. But he loved her. Ye could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her. Or so we thought. After they had been married for three years, there were still no babies; he sent her away because she was barren.” She stood up to throw another log on the fire, and Moira came in to sit with them. “I am tellin’ Bridie about the laird,” she explained.
Moira frowned. “Aye, that poor lass,” she said sadly. “He didnae dae right by that young woman. I didnae care for her much, but tae be cast off like an old shoe? Nobody deserves that. We were no’ supposed tae know, but the truth came out anyway. The laird didnae care about her after all. As soon as he found out she was barren, he asked the church for permission tae divorce her because she was no good tae him anymore. That was given an’ he was a free man, but it changed him.”
“Aye,” Ina went on. “He had been a very pleasant man ’til then, but now he is just as you see him—hardly ever smiles, gets angry at the slightest thing. He is a very bitter person.” She went on to tell Moira briefly what had happened between Bettina and the laird.
At first, Moira was horrified, then she thought for a moment. “If ye go an’ say sorry, I think he will forgive ye,” she said thoughtfully. “There is a good man in there somewhere, I know it.”
“I can only try,” Bettina agreed, sighing. “But I do not hold out much hope.”
Bettina stood outside Ninian Ogilvy’s study, her heart thundering and her ice-cold hands shaking with fear. When she knocked timidly on the door, it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
“Come!” His voice was a deep rumble. She took a deep breath and stepped into the chamber with a terrifying sense of foreboding.
Ninian looked up from his work as he heard the door closing. His face was as expressionless as a stone statue’s.
The walk across the floor to his desk seemed like a thousand miles, but at last, Bettina stood before him, willing herself to be calm.
“Yes?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I wanted to say sorry for my rudeness, M’Laird,” she said quietly. “It was wrong of me.”
“Indeed it was,” he agreed. “But I accept your apology. Now go and get on with your work.”
“You still want me to work for you?” Bettina was incredulous.
“Yes,” he answered. “But this is your last chance.”
“Thank you, M’Laird.” Bettina had tears in her eyes as she turned and fled.
