“What?” she asked absently, for once intent on her chores. She had found it helped occupy her mind, keep her thoughts away from Alan.
“You are daft, Jean Maxwell!” Maura was hopping up and down in excitement. “The whole castle can talk of nothing else, and there you are, with nothing but suds on your mind.”
“Well, tell me then,” Jean said, wiping her hands on her apron and turning to the other girl.
“There is to be a grand banquet!” Maura’s eyes were shining as brightly as marbles. “All of the women are to attend, dressed in their finest. Alan has requested it himself!”
“Aye,” said Jean. “Well, that’s grand, I suppose.”
Maura approached her, whispering in her ear. “You don’t understand,” she said. “It is for all the women, not just the ladies.” She looked in Jean’s face. “It means that you and I can go! And everyone!”
“What?” Jean thought she hadn’t heard her properly.
“Aye,” Maura whispered. “We can dress up and act as if we are ladies – just for one night! Oh Jean, I am so excited.”
Jean felt an upsurge of excitement herself but immediately suppressed it. “I am sure you will look lovely and have a great time, Maura,” she said.
Maura looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a third arm. “You are coming as well,” she said. “We have to go together. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I’ve nothing to wear,” Jean said, in a quiet voice. “I have no grand clothes. I have never been to a village dance, let alone a banquet.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Maura linked her arm with hers. “We will put our heads together and figure out our gowns! Even if we must go to the market and buy some material to make them ourselves. I know how to sew. And we can copy the style of Lady High and Mighty.”
Jean giggled. “Lady Janet, you mean?”
“Aye, her.” A look of distaste came over Maura’s face. “She’s a cow, if ever I met one. Yelling at me because the fire went out, yapping on about what she was going to wear…poor Alan doesn’t know what he is in for, with that one.”
Jean thought of Alan, married to the uppity Lady Janet. Her heart flipped in her chest.
“Maura! Jean!”
Both girls jumped guiltily. It was Aggie, hands on hips and a frown darkening her brow.
“Stop your yapping and back to work, the both of you!”
“But, Cook…”
“I know you’re excited about the banquet,” Aggie said. “Lord knows I would be too, if I was a young lassie again! But there will be time enough to figure it out. It happens in a weeks’ time. So, get back to work before I clobber the both of you.”
They didn’t need to be told a second time.
As she plunged her hands back into the rapidly cooling water, Jean allowed herself a flicker of excitement.
A banquet. Dressed up like a lady. And Alan would be there.
***
That night, in her family’s little cottage at the edge of the loch, Jean mentioned the banquet.
Her mother already knew, of course. How could she not? It was all the kitchen could talk about that day. Her father, on the other hand, had no idea. He frowned slightly as Jean outlined what was planned.
“A fine banquet?” he repeated. “And all the young women in the district are invited?”
“Aye,” said Jean, a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Burns tapped his pipe, staring into their little fire.
“I am not sure, Jeanie, if you should go to such a thing,” he said eventually. “It seems strange, somehow. The nobles have banquets for themselves. I have never heard of a banquet arranged so that the common folk can dress up and pretend to be lairds and ladies.”
Brenda looked at her husband. “Aye, that is true,” she said. “But just because it has never happened before doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t.” She turned to her daughter. “I think Jean should be allowed to attend. It would be lovely to dress up for a night and forget for a while the hard life that we lead.”
Jean clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Mother!”
Burns stared into the fire. “Well, my love, if you think it acceptable, I will let her go.” He looked at this daughter. “But remember your place, lassie. It is only one night. You are not a lady, and never will be.”
“Don’t you think she knows that?” Brenda said. “She has a firm head on her shoulders, even if she daydreams a little too much for my liking.” She gazed at Jean fondly. “But what will you wear? You have nothing that is nearly fine enough for such an occasion.”
“Maura and I were thinking of going to the market on Sunday,” Jean replied. “They sell material there. Maura can sew. If she really tries, she can get two dresses made before the week is out. Or so she says.”
Brenda frowned. “It is too much for her,” she said. “She barely has any time outside her work. It will be hard enough for her to finish her own gown in time, never mind two.” She tapped her fingers against the kitchen table, thinking.
Suddenly, she brightened. “I think I might have the solution,” she said, standing up and walking to an old chest in the corner.
Jean got up and followed her mother. “What are you thinking, Ma?”
Brenda was busy rummaging through the trunk. “It is old, of course. But it might just do the trick.”
She pulled out an old gown, shaking it as she laid it on the floor.
Jean gasped. She had never seen anything as beautiful – not even Janet’s magnificent gown from the banquet the night before.
“Where did you get it?” she breathed, picking up a sleeve and stroking it.
Brenda smiled. “It was my wedding gown,” she whispered. She blinked suddenly, as if trying to keep back tears. “Your grandmother made it with her own hands. She was a skilled seamstress.”
The gown was old and fraying a little. But Jean could see the craftsmanship in every stitch. It was made of lace and was a cream color – it reminded Jean of the color of a magnolia. The bodice was laced with yellowing ribbon.
“You wore this?” she whispered. “When you married Papa?”
“Aye,” Brenda said. “And I felt like a princess. The one day of my life that I ever have.”
Burns had gotten up and approached them. His face softened as he stared at the gown.
“You were the most beautiful lassie in the land,” he said, gazing at it. “I still remember how amazed I was when I saw you walking toward me in it, Brenda. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.”
Burns and Brenda stared at each other, obviously lost in the memory.
Jean felt tears prick behind her eyes. She knew her parents loved each other, but she hadn’t realized how much until this moment.
“I would be honored to wear the gown,” she said softly. “Grandmother did an amazing job.”
Brenda cleared her throat. “That she did,” she said. “We must air it, of course. It has been in the trunk for a long time. And maybe repair a few bits – but I can do that. I may not be the seamstress that my mother was, but I know how to thread a needle.” She looked at Jean, assessing. “Aye, I don’t think we have to adjust the size at all. You are about as slim as I was on my wedding day.”
Jean picked the gown up, holding it against her.
It was becoming real. She was going to the banquet. She would wear this wonderful gown, and pretend that she was a lady for the night.
And maybe, just maybe, Alan would notice her at long last.
She knew he was engaged, to the awful Lady Janet.
She knew she was a kitchen maid, and he was a laird’s son.
She didn’t expect anything, just that maybe he would gaze on her with admiration, if only for a moment.
Chapter Six
Aggie was barking orders in the kitchen, her face flushed and drenched in sweat.
“What are you doing?” she screeched to a maid. “You don’t put currants into that dish! It will spoil it entirely!” She
grabbed the offending fruit from the startled maid’s hands, flinging them into the fire. “Stand away! I must do it myself, like I have to do everything.”
Jean thought she had never seen Aggie so rattled. But then, it was the night of the great banquet, and the orders were for an astronomical amount of food. It had tested Aggie’s capabilities.
“You’d think it was the wedding feast itself,” mumbled the cook as she vigorously stirred the pot. She looked up. “What are you still doing here, Jean? I said you could run down to your cottage and start getting yourself ready.”
Jean looked at Aggie gratefully. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am,” the cook stated, wiping her brow. “Everything is fine here. Off you go, before I change my mind and set you to stirring the custard.”
Jean surprised herself by going to the cook and planting a kiss on her forehead. Aggie looked surprised, too.
“Thank you, Aggie,” she whispered.
“None of that nonsense, now,” Aggie blustered. “Off with you.” She waved a hand dismissively.
Jean turned and ran out the kitchen door.
She would be entering it again later that night – but dressed very differently. She felt a stab of excitement as she raced through the castle into the night air.
***
“There. Turn around so that I can see you.”
Brenda finished adjusting the gown onto Jean, pulling at the bodice so it sat better on her chest.
Jean turned around. Brenda gasped.
Her daughter looked like a princess.
They had repaired the gown and aired it out. It almost looked as good as new; you might never know that it was twenty five years old. It fitted Jean like a glove, clinging to her ample bosom. Her daughter had grown into a beautiful young woman, thought Brenda. Her milky white skin was flawless. She had huge grey eyes, fringed by long, dark lashes in a heart-shaped face.
But her crowning glory was her long, red hair. They had let it hang loose down one side, and threaded it with a bit of extra ribbon. It contrasted with the cream of the dress beautifully.
“Well?” Jean twirled around. “What do you think?”
“I think you will be the most beautiful girl there, my love,” her mother said. She shook her head, trying to fight off tears.
“Oh, Ma,” Jean said, hugging her tightly.
“What is this vision I see before me?”
The two women turned. Burns stood at the doorway, home from the stables for the night.
He entered the cottage, going to stand in front of his daughter. He took her hand.
“You look beautiful, my Jeanie,” he said. “You are not my little lassie any more. Sometimes I forget.” He shook his head, and then kissed her gently on the forehead. “Have a lovely time this evening. Dance like there is no tomorrow.” He smiled, a little sadly.
“It is time.” Brenda broke in. “You should leave now, Jean, or you will be late.”
Jean took a deep breath. “Thank you! You are the best parents a lass could ever wish for.”
She walked to the doorway, not looking back.
She didn’t want her parents to see the tears that were coming down her face.
***
She walked through the kitchen door, just like she had a thousand times before.
Aggie was ladling soup into a huge bowl. She almost dropped the ladle when she saw Jean.
“Oh, my!” The cook looked dumbfounded. “Is that really our little Jean?”
The others stopped and stared, as well.
Jean blushed. “Am I late?”
“Aye, a little.” Aggie continued with her ladling. “Maura is already there. She looks very pretty, to be sure. But she doesn’t hold a candle to you, lassie.”
“I should go,” Jean said. “Should I use the main stairway?” She looked unsure. The enormity of entering the great hall, a little late, was starting to panic her.
“Aye. It’s quicker,” said Aggie. “Well, don’t just stand there, lassie. Get going!”
Jean didn’t need to be told twice. She picked up her skirts, and scurried to the staircase.
She was taking the stairs two at a time, when she heard a noise behind her.
Oh, no. It was Alan, dressed in his finest kilt. As handsome as she had ever seen him.
He stared at her, as if he didn’t understand something.
Their eyes locked, and held for the longest time.
Jean couldn’t think of a thing to say. She knew that she shouldn’t be using the main staircase – it was for the nobles, after all. But how could she explain herself?
She didn’t think. She just turned and bounded up the stairs, not looking back. Her heart was racing. He would think her terribly rude, but it couldn’t be helped.
Alan stood there, frozen, staring after the girl as she ran.
His hand rested on the balustrade, gripping it as if he would fall in a heap if he let go.
Chapter Seven
He entered the great hall as if in a dream.
The tables were groaning under the weight of the food, and the chatter was high. Young women in their finest gowns flitted around, giggling nervously. He could see his men eyeing them appreciatively. The wine was already flowing.
Where was she? The girl in the white gown?
He scanned the crowd. Ah. He spotted her in the far corner, talking to another girl.
He elbowed his way through, finding his mother. He took her arm, turning her toward the girl.
“Who is she?” He pointed as he spoke.
His mother followed his gaze, squinting slightly.
“The girl in white?” she questioned. “That is Jean – she mops the floors in the kitchen. Helps Aggie in other tasks too, I think.”
“She works here?” Alan was frowning. “In the kitchens?”
“Aye.” Lady Margot smiled. “A good lassie, always smiling. Her mother has worked in the kitchens since you were a wee laddie. Her father is Maxwell, who tends the horses.”
Alan nodded. “Maxwell is a great farrier. The best in the district, if not the whole of the Highlands.”
He gazed at the girl. How could he have never noticed her before?
She worked in the kitchens, and yet he had never seen her. Not even once.
How that was possible was beyond Alan. She was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
She was moving now, pushing through the crowd. His eyes followed her anxiously. Where was she going?
He started pushing through himself, following her.
It had taken so long to find her. The woman he had dreamt of. The one.
He wasn’t about to lose her now.
***
Jean stood on the verandah, gazing out over the gardens and into the night sky.
She had wanted to do this forever. Sometimes – not very often – she assisted cleaning the great hall after a major banquet, and she had always longed to step out here. She would see just a snippet of the view from inside. There had never been a chance before.
She had always been too busy. It was not her place to do so.
Now, she had the chance. She breathed in the sweet scent of the roses, brought especially by Lady Margot from England after she had visited there once.
She spotted bluebells and hollyhocks, growing in abundance. She could see the edge of the extensive vegetable and herb gardens, as well.
The sky was navy blue, with a million tiny stars twinkling in the distance. Jean thought she had never seen anything as beautiful.
There was another reason she wanted to stand here, by herself. She needed to gain her composure after the accidental meeting with Alan on the staircase.
She couldn’t believe it. Of all the people to run into, it had to be him.
She should have spoken, apologized for the audacity of using the staircase. She would probably be in trouble. He would tell his mother, the Lady Margot, and she would speak to Aggie about making sure her staff used the servants’ stairwell.
<
br /> But right at this moment, gazing at this view and breathing in the perfume, she didn’t care.
Let tomorrow take care of itself.
“Excuse me.”
She spun around. Alan stood there.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he breathed, coming a little closer.
Her eyes were huge, the color of a sky on an overcast day, glinted with gold. He didn’t think he had ever seen such lovely eyes before.
“You’re not disturbing me,” she stammered, backing away. Her heart had started to thump uncomfortably. Why was he looking at her that way?
“You’re Jean, aren’t you?” He couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Aye.” She curtsied, hanging her head. So he knew who she was. He would tell her off for daring to come out here.
“Jean.” He repeated her name, as if it were a talisman. “I have to tell you, Jean. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Jean started. “Sir?”
He came closer still. “It is true. I have met many fine ladies, but you are the most breathtaking.”
Jean blushed, looking down. “Oh, Sir, you are too kind. I am sure you must be mistaken. What of the Lady Janet?”
She could have bitten her tongue off as soon as she mentioned the name. His face darkened.
“Lady Janet is handsome, of course,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“Oh, Sir, I was too forward…” Jean bit her lip.
Alan shook his head. “I am sorry. It is nothing to do with you, and it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with this moment.” He took a deep breath. “It is beautiful here, isn’t it?”
Jean smiled. “It is the loveliest thing I have ever seen,” she breathed. “I have never seen gardens like this.”
“My mother loves her gardens. She gets exotic plants sent from faraway places. The gardener does a good job,” he said. “Most castles have vegetable and herb gardens, of course. But not many have gardens just for this – for the pleasure of looking at and smelling the flowers.” He took another deep breath, inhaling the scent of the garden.
Suddenly, he jumped the rail and was in the garden. He walked to a rose bush and picked one, cutting it carefully with his knife.
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