Page 23 of The Laird's Bride
Jeannie rushed forward and helped her brush the sticky strands off her face and hair, assuring her that there was no spider on her. "I saw you walking toward it, but I thought you were going to knock it down with a stick or something," she said.
"No, I didn't— " The woman bit her tongue and looked away.
And suddenly Jeannie understood. "You didn't see it, did you?"
Mrs. Findlay said nothing.
"Your eyesight is going, isn't it?" Jeannie said softly. Of course. That was why the maids had been able to get away with slapdash work.
There was a short silence. "What makes you say that?"
"I've been wondering why, when you're such an efficient and well-organized person, the castle is in need of a good clean."
"A good clean?"Mrs. Findlay repeated stiffly.
"You can't see it, but there is a faint layer of dust on much of the furniture, and even some cobwebs in some rooms."
Mrs. Findlay sagged. "I suppose it's no use pretending any longer. The last year or so it's been getting worse. I've tried spectacles, but they do nae good. I can barely even read my own writing." She straightened and said with dignity, "You'll be wanting to dismiss me, then."
Jeannie thought for a minute. "I don't think that will be necessary."
Mrs. Findlay looked at her with a shocked expression. "But you said the castle was dirty! You cannot want—" She swallowed and said with quiet dignity. "I have always prided myself on the quality of my work. If I can no longer perform to the required standard—"
"As I said, your organization seems first rate to me. It is just your eyesight that is letting you down."
"Just my eyesight," Mrs. Findlay echoed bitterly. "The most important part. If I canna see whether the girls have done a good job—"
"No, but I can."
There was a short silence, then Jeannie said, "If you will continue to organize the castle, I will be your eyes—for the moment, at least—and I'll try to be discreet about it." Though it was clear the maids knew. "Have you had your eyes examined by a specialist?"
Mrs. Findlay snorted. "I don't need some doctor to tell me I'm going blind. I can see that for myself." She sighed and added in a defeated voice. "My mother's eyesight went the same way—she was blind before she was sixty."
"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Jeannie said. "Now, let us inspect the greenhouse."
Mrs. Findlay didn't move. "You'll have to tell the laird. I canna go on deceiving him."
"I'll tell him, but he did promise me that the household was mine to run, so there's no need to worry." Cameron might have thought it a grand joke when he'd told her she'd be 'the woman of the house' but she intended to hold him to it.
Mrs. Findlay still didn't move. Her eyes filled with tears. "Are you sure about this, lass?"
"Very sure," Jeannie assured her gently. She knew what it was like to be alone and dependent on the good will of others. Besides, this woman was almost fearsomely efficient, apart from her eyesight. "Now then, let's look at that greenhouse. I'll be having tea with my husband's uncle this afternoon, and I'll need to wash and tidy myself first. He seems to me to be a very elegant gentleman. And possibly hard to please? My marriage won't exactly have endeared me to him." She ended on a questioning note, hoping the housekeeper might give her a hint or two about Charles Sinclair.
His extreme old-fashioned elegance and courtly manners were a little overwhelming, especially for a girl who everyone knew had been fished out of a bog. And was still wearing the same blue dress she'd been married in.
Worse still, her marriage had stripped him of all power and influence.
Mrs. Findlay opened the greenhouse door. "Och, Mr. Charles is no' so bad. He's bored, that's all. And mebbe a bit lonely. He's no' an outdoors sort of gentleman, so he gets no pleasure from hunting or fishing like the other men do. He's all for society and art and things like that—he paints, you know, and plays music on his spinet. He was reared in the French court."
"Ah." That made sense.
They finished the tour of the greenhouse and the kitchen garden. At the base of the stairs, Jeannie paused when Mrs. Findlay laid a hand on her arm. "You truly mean it about being my eyes, m'lady? You'll not dismiss me?"
"Of course not," Jeannie said softly "I think we'll make a good team, don't you?" The older woman nodded, wordlessly.
Jeannie hurried upstairs. To her delight, the bedchamber was now spotless, with every surface burnished and fragrant with the scent of beeswax polish. The carpets, now well beaten, glowed with color and the floor had been mopped and polished to a soft sheen. Even the window panes were freshly washed and gleamed, crystal clear.
She turned slowly, noting every change for the better, and smiled. Not a speck of dust or shred of cobweb anywhere. It was a tiny victory. Her first step in becoming the wife of the laird. Next, to get the whole castle looking like this.
