Page 11 of The Shadow of a Laird
“Just be my friend,” she replied, smiling. “That is enough.”
5
Gavin woke up the next morning to the sound of a howling storm outside. Normally, the sound would have made him sink into a pit of depression, but this morning he was not feeling that way at all. On the contrary, he was in high spirits, and for a moment he lay still, wondering why, before he realised that he was holding something soft and yielding which seemed to be the source of his good mood.
He looked at the cushion that Maura had given him, then buried his nose in it and inhaled her scent, which he identified because of the hug she had given him the previous night. It was an earthy musk, with a hint of some delicate perfume, and Gavin loved it. The cushion was a work of art. All the patches were joined together with beautifully intricate stitches that he was sure must have taken hours and hours of painstaking labour to execute.
As Gavin held the cushion against himself, he smiled and wondered what it would be like to have Maura in his arms as well. He banished the thought before it had time to take root in his consciousness; Maura was a good woman and did notdeserve someone like him who could not promise her any sort of secure future.
Now all he wanted to do was lie in bed and think about things that had made him happy before that dreadful night when he had been thrown out of the only home he had ever known.
He had absolutely no one. Up to his parents’ death, he had had dozens of friends, but they had all abandoned him, and he knew why. They were all close companions who had rallied around him during that dreadful time and for the next few months. However, he had shown his gratitude to them by pushing them away and treating them all with utter contempt. Gavin had no doubt that if he contacted one of his closest friends even now they would come to his assistance, yet he was too proud and too ashamed to do so.
Gavin realised suddenly that his resolve to think happy thoughts had disappeared, and he stood up and scolded himself for indulging in so much self-pity. He had landed on his feet, he told himself. He had met a kind and merciful soul in the shape of Maura, and he should be glad and grateful. With that, he washed himself quickly and moved into the tavern to eat his breakfast.
He had watched the cook preparing and making food for the customers in the kitchen, and had memorised a few of the simpler recipes well enough to be able to cook his own breakfast. It consisted of a mound of thick porridge and two scrambled eggs, washed down with a large cup of warm milk. Before, he had been used to sausages, haggis and even game birds for breakfast, but he supposed that from now on, he would have to be content with a simpler diet.
Maura had not yet arrived, so he took his time with his meal, putting off the evil moment when he would have to go and scrub the floor. It gave him a sense of ironic amusement to look at his calloused, chapped hands, which used to be so well-manicured that a lady would have been proud of them. Now his nails wereconstantly dirty and the whorls and grooves of his palms and fingerprints permanently ingrained with filth.
How the mighty have fallen,Gavin thought, laughing inwardly.Who would have thought that the wealthy Laird Forsyth would be reduced to scrubbing floors and eating from rubbish bins?
He stood up as Maura came downstairs, and smiled at her. “Good morning!” he greeted her. “Did you sleep well?”
“I never sleep, Gavin,” she replied with a rueful grin. “I lose consciousness. My Mammy used to tell me I was the deepest sleeper she ever saw. How about you?”
Normally, this kind of small talk would have bored Gavin witless, but he found that any time spent with Maura was time well spent. “I slept very well, because I had help.” His tone was deliberately mysterious, and Maura gave him a puzzled frown.
“I cuddled my cushion all night,” he explained, with a wicked smile. “It reminded me of you.”
It took a moment for the answer to register with Maura, then she grinned and gave him a playful slap on his shoulder. “Get tae work,” she said, then walked away.
Gavin sighed, then heated the water over the stove to wash the floor before beginning his odious task. He had seen servants in the castle doing this menial job, but had always walked past them, barely registering their presence. As long as they did what they were paid for, he had cared nothing for their welfare, mental or physical.
Of course, he was not alone in feeling this way. Many in Gavin’s social class were the same; servants were there to be used, not cared about. Indeed, when he cast his mind back, he realised that he had thought of them as almost disposable, and it made him feel deeply ashamed. Now that he was in their position, he was seeing things from a completely different perspective.
He targeted an area of the floor on which someone had spilled something that looked a lot like stout, a thick dark ale, which had dried and made a brown stain on the wood. There were many such stains, and he had long since given up hope of erasing them all.
At last, he reached the other side of the room and looked back with satisfaction on his achievement. This was the point when he usually rewarded himself with a glass of ale, but Maura’s reserve of good quality ale was dwindling, and he did not wish to deplete it further, so he drank another glass of milk. She kept a few cows, so he knew she had an endless supply of that!
Gavin began to clean the bar and the bottles and cups behind it. The task did not require much mental effort, in fact, it had become almost as automatic as breathing, so he could let his mind wander at will.
He thought of the way Maura had looked the previous evening; the sadness in her eyes as he spoke of his mother, as if she herself had shared the same experience. He had wanted to ask her, but when he was on the point of doing so, she had abruptly changed the subject and given him a little lecture on the merits of hard work.
He smiled as he thought of it, and realised that his admiration for her was increasing every day. How could it not? If she were some Laird’s daughter he would have been allowed—no, encouraged—to woo her, but she was not.
Presently, he heard light footsteps in the kitchen, and he peeked through the door to see Maura standing by the back door of the kitchen. She had not seen him, but something told him to be quiet and stay out of her sight, so he stood by the edge of the door jamb watching her. She was obviously thinking seriously about something, and was constantly looking around to see if she was being observed, so he was careful to stay silent and motionless. What on earth was she doing, he wondered?
After a moment, she picked up a basket that was sitting by the door and left, quietly closing it behind her. Gavin was puzzled. He looked outside and saw her walking towards the church at the end of the street, and abruptly a spear of jealousy pierced him. What if she was meeting a secret lover? He was astonished to discover that he was absolutely and irrationally furious at the mere thought of it, and decided to follow her. After all, no one would find it suspicious that he was going to church, since everyone else in the village did.
Maura went inside, and he followed her, expecting to see a man waiting for her, ready to take her into his arms and kiss her. However, nothing like that happened. Instead, he saw half-a-dozen children sitting in the front pews who all greeted Maura with laughs and happy cries, then rushed up to meet her. They were urchins, all dressed in dirty rags, the kind that he would have passed in the street without giving them a second glance.
When she put the basket on the floor, he heard excited squeals of delight as Maura handed out the food which was inside. There was bread, cheese, apples, nuts, dried meat and fruit, as well as all manner of other staple foodstuffs. The children began to eat hungrily until they had had their fill, then Gavin watched as she took out a bar of coarse soap, filled a bucket from the well outside and began to wash them.
Gavin’s heart swelled with what felt like love as he looked at her. If he had admired Maura before, that admiration now increased tenfold. “I havenae any clean clothes for ye yet” she told them, “but I am tryin’ tae find some.”
“Never mind, Maura.” The oldest of the children, a red-headed girl of about twelve, smiled at her. “Ye have given us blankets an’ a place tae sleep.”
Maura stood up and hugged each one of them in turn. “I have tae go now,” she said regretfully. “Remember, if ye need any help, ye know where I am.”
