Page 70 of Stealing Sophie
Chapter 19
Bending, Sophie pushed aside a tangled clump of weeds. The pathway that led to the kitchen door cut through unkempt piles of old leaves and new weeds entwined with exhaustive ivy. She found remnants of flowers and herbs that had once flourished here, grayed clusters of lavender, the sword leaves of iris, crisp old marigold heads. Easing aside a mass of ivy, she saw curled rosemary leaves, knots of thyme, mint, other herbs. She crushed a few leaves, finding faint traces of their scents.
Connor had told her nothing would grow at Glendoon, but she saw growth everywhere, in the kitchen garden and elsewhere. But it was sparse, lacking vitality.
Pausing, she slid the silver chain over her head, holding it in her hand so that the sparkling crystal hung suspended and perfectly balanced. She waved it gently over a patch of the weary garden. Winking and sparking, the pendant swung back and forth and then took a circular path.
Closing her eyes, she put out her left hand and moved it slowly over the tiny, weak plants, over the patch where the crows had pecked at the seeds, over the brownish tangles and bare spots where the soil was weak. Sweeping her hand slowly, letting the delicate crystal dangle and twinkle, Sophie closed her eyes.
She had not done this in a long while, the method she had learned, the way that brought the fairy magic through her. The nuns had not known—but she had known, having learned it in childhood from her mother, who gave her the crystal and told her the tale. Whatever needs healing, her mother had said, whatever needs love, they say the fairy crystals of Duncrieff can help that.
And she had learned that the fairy gift could encourage flowers and plants. When she let it work through her this way, she felt a power she could not quite explain, a feeling that swirled and seemed to sparkle within. Over years of nurturing plants and flowers, she had found that it helped things grow, this power she could summon through the pretty little pendant. It was more than a gemstone connected to a family legend. It had a force within it.
At the convent, she could wave the crystal over a bed of tulips, and the flowers would perk and bloom. She had used it secretly, certain the nuns would not have understood. But as Sophie had waved her hands over the plants one day with the silver chain draped around her fingers, she had looked up to see Sister Berthe standing there.
“Good,” the old nun had said. “You are praying over the plants. I do that, too. It helps them grow. Just like magic.” She had smiled. “It is just love, after all. Prayer is love, and all living things need that.”
Only love, after all. Sophie slipped the silver necklace back over her head. Perhaps love’s magic would help the sad and neglected garden at Glendoon.
She brushed soil from her skirt. So much of Glendoon was in a state of neglect. Yet it could be a fine and good home one day, she thought, despite its laird, so resistant to the idea of any home but Kinnoull House.
Turning, she heard a shout and looked past the curtain wall to the hills. She saw Connor—recognized the rhythm of his stride, his breadth and height, the swing of his plaid—and Neill coming toward the castle. The spaniel trotted beside them while the terriers scampered ahead, chasing sheep before them.
She felt a little thrill to see Connor approaching now. He had not come to the bed last night, and she did not know if he had slept in the castle at all. She had awoken in the morning yearning for him, wishing he was safe and warm beside her.
Though she tried to tell herself it was nonsense, she no longer believed her own admonitions.
She turned to see the old wolfhound ambling toward her. He sat on his haunches, lifting his head to give a series of throaty barks. “Hey, Colla. Do you sense your master coming home?” She patted his head, and he nosed under her hand for more of the same.
She put a hand to the rim of the wide straw hat she wore, which she had found in the trunk that had belonged to Connor’s mother. This morning she had finally relented, giving up the ruined amber satin for a plain blue gown she found in the depths of the old chest. The simple cut of the dark blue cotton gown was more serviceable for daily wear, with its comfortable laced bodice and open skirt panels showing a pale gray undergown. She had found sturdy leather shoes, too, a bit big, but good woolen stockings made them fit more securely. Before dressing for the day, she had washed thoroughly using a basin and pitcher, even rinsing and combing out her hair. She had sluiced herself each morning, but this morning’s ritual, followed by clean garments, was nicely refreshing.
The day was sunny and growing warm, and she was grateful for the shade of the wide straw hat. She had found leather gloves in the kitchen, and steel shears where the trowel was stored. Clipping the weeds, standing to clap a hand to the hat in the breeze and looking about at the castle yard under wide blue skies, somehow she felt different. Better, relaxed, belonging. She felt like the mistress of Glendoon today.
“Mistress Sophie!”
She whirled. “Roderick, there you are! I thought you might be out with the laird.”
“Me, I do not herd cows or sheep,” he said, coming toward her. “I am here to guard you.” He puffed with pride, youthful charm dazzling.
“Thank you,” she said. “I have some work for you today if you like.”
He lifted his brows. “Work?”
“Aye. You will need a shovel and an ax.”
“For what?” He looked at her suspiciously.
“Gardening. We will need a rake as well. I want to clean up the kitchen garden. I have done some weeding, but it needs heavier work.”
“Ach,Mistress, the herb garden is women’s work.”
“But I need your strong arms to clear the weeds and trim the ivy, and help me cut back some plants to bring new growth.” She tipped her head. “Would you rather chase me away from the front gate, or see that I am kept busy?”
“Busy, since you have tried to leave the place twice. Aye, very busy.”
“Well then. I also want to look at the larger garden. I saw it from the library window.” She began to cross the bailey yard, with Roderick falling into step beside her.
“The big garden? You would need several men to dig that one out.”
