Scent of Scotland

by Mac Flynn

  The large windows on either side of the hearth looked out on the center courtyard. The untrodden snow glistened in the weak light and the snowflakes fell about like large feathers. Mrs. Greer pulled out the same chair I occupied the previous night, and I took my seat.

  "Now what do you hunger for? Bread? Cheese?" she asked me.

  I furrowed my brow and shook my head. "Would. . .would it be any trouble if there was any meat?" I wondered.

  Her eyes danced with glee and she pushed my chair up to the table. "As you wish it, Abby. I will return in a moment."

  Mrs. Greer disappeared into the door through which the servants had brought the food the night before. I leaned back and sighed. I was still a prisoner of sorts within the confines of this grand home, but Mrs. Greer was so kind that some of my frustration melted away. The dress I wore was also hardly the clothing I imagined an abused prisoner would wear.

  I reached up and pinched the bodice material between my fingers. My years in the tailor trade told me that Lord Moray had spent a great deal on the soft fabric.

  "Lord Moray. . ." I whispered.

  My quiet voice broke the silent reverie in the room. A cool breeze swept over me and I wrapped my arms around myself. The temperature in the room felt colder and the light from the fireplace dimmed. I raised my eyes to the candelabra and watched the candles flicker against the breeze. A noise to my right startled me, and I swung my head in the direction of the fireplace.

  My eyes widened as I beheld a white apparition. It was the shape of a woman, but transparent. Her outline was hazy as though she stood in a fog, and her plain attire was from a simpler time. She was half-turned from me with her eyes focused on the fire near her feet, but I could see she was beautiful. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders and her soft hands spoke of little labor.

  My heart quickened as she raised her head and turned towards me. I wanted to scream, to run from the room, but I was rooted to my chair. My hands gripped the edge of the table and my body trembled. Her eyes glowed with a bluish light and her expression was filled with melancholy. A feeling of deep sadness washed over me.

  There came a noise from in front of me. The figure's eyes widened and she vanished. The spell was broken, and I slumped over the table just as Mrs. Greer stepped into the room.

  "Abby!" she yelled.

  Mrs. Greer rushed over and set the tray in her hands on the table. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled my side against her bosom.

  "Abby? What in the world has happened?" she asked me.

  I raised my arm and pointed a finger at the fireplace. The fire was just as it had been before the apparition appeared, as were the candles on the table.

  "I-I saw a ghost," I choked out.

  Her eyes widened and I felt her hands tremble. She stiffened her lip and helped me to my feet.

  "Come away with me, Abby, and we shall set you in the parlor," she suggested.

  I grasped her arms as she led me from the room. "I-it will not follow, will it?" I asked her.

  She shook her head. "No indeed, but let's come away."

  Mrs. Greer guided me into the entrance hall where we met a familiar figure. Lord Moray himself came through the front doors and a swirl of snow swept inside with him. Snow lay atop the shoulders of his fur-lined coat and his boots left deep tracks on the stone floor. His dark hair was speckled with water the gleamed in the dim light of the lamps placed on either side of the doorway. He shrugged off his coat to a servant before he noticed us, and a smile graced his lips.

  "Good-" His smile vanished and his eyes narrowed. He strode up to us and grasped my shoulders to keep me on my feet. "You're shaking," he commented. He turned his eyes on Mrs. Greer. "What's happened?"

  "She's seen her, my laird," Mrs. Greer explained.

  His lips pressed together in a firm, tight line, and he returned his attention to me. "Fetch some brandy and meet us in the parlor," he ordered Greer without looking to her.

  "Very good, my laird," she agreed, and hurried back to the kitchen.

  The lord slipped to my side and pressed me close to him. His warm voice was soft and soothing after that chilling experience. "Can you walk?" he asked me.

  I nodded. "I-I think so."

  "Then follow my footsteps," he requested.

  He led me across the entrance hall to west wing and the door that stood opposite the dining hall. The same servant who held his coat opened the doors for us, and we stepped into an elegant but not lavish parlor. There was fine horse-hair couches and chairs, and a low oak center table for tea and pastries. Small conversation tables with chairs sat the rear and were surrounded on either side by bookcases filled with many volumes of books.

  The layout of the room was a mirror image to the dining hall with the windows at the rear on either side of the chimney. The snow fell gently as Lord Moray assisted me into one of the couches. I leaned forward and clasped my head in my shaking hands. The icy chill of that room still lingered on my flesh.

  Mrs. Greer soon entered with my tray of food, and a bottle of brandy with a glass. She set them beside me, and the lord glanced between the tray and her face.

  "She hasn't had any food," Greer explained.

  "Then have her eat some, and have a glass of brandy. I will return in a moment," he commanded her.

  Mrs. Greer nodded and without a glance at me the lord swept from the room. My caretaker seated herself by my side and poured a glass of the alcohol. I sat up and she held the glass close to my face, but I caught a whiff of the repugnant smell of alcohol and wrinkled my nose.

  "This will steady your nerves," she told me.

  I cringed, but reluctantly took the glass from her and took a sip of the brandy. The taste was sweeter than I expected and slipped down my throat like velvet. A warmth spread through me and relaxed my muscles. I took a deep breath and shuddered.

  "What. . .what was that?" I asked her.

  Mrs. Greer sighed. "She was a lady of the house some two hundred years ago."

  My eyes widened. "Two hundred? Then. . .then what I saw was-?"

  Mrs. Greer nodded. "Aye. A spirit."

  The brandy in the glass shook in my hands. "Will I. . .will I die?" I asked her.

  The housekeeper blinked at me for a moment before she tilted her head back and burst into laughter. I frowned at her, and she composed herself enough to smile and shake her head. "No, Abby, you will not die. She is not an ill omen, but she is rather a frightful one, or so I am told."

  "Then you have never seen her?" I guessed.

  She shook her head. "No. She only appears to those who are lady of the house, or destined to be one."

  My heart quickened. "Then she believes me to be the lady of the house?"

  Mrs. Greer's smile widened and she bowed her head. "She does, my lady."

  CHAPTER 10

  The door behind us opened and we turned to see Lord Moray stride into the room. He moved around the couch and looked me over. His eyes were soft, but troubled.

  "How do you feel?" he asked me.

  "Much better," I replied.

  A ghost of a smile graced his lips. "That's good." He took a seat in a chair close to the couch and clasped his fingers together as he studied me. "What exactly did you see?"

  I grasped the glass tightly in both my hands and shuddered. "I. . .I saw a woman. She stood beside the fire and I could. . .I could see through her," I explained.

  His lips pursed together. "And did she try to communicate with you?" he wondered.

  I shook my head. "No, though she did turn to me. Then Mrs. Greer entered the room and she vanished."

  Lord Moray turned sharply to Greer. "You left her alone?" he questioned her.

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Forgive me, my laird. I never would have left her alone if I had known the White Lady would come to her so quickly."

  "'White Lady?'" I repeated.

  "It is the name given to the spirit by my family and the servants," Moray told me.

  "Does no one know her name?
" I wondered.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. We only suspect she was the lady of the house for a short time, and died tragically or suddenly. That is typical of spirits who are trapped and are unable to ascend to heaven."

  "If no one knows her name then how is it known that she portends who is to be the lady of the house?" I asked the pair.

  "The only women who have ever seen her are those who were, or have become, lady of this house," the lord revealed.

  I grasped the glass in my hands and shook my head. "But I have no desire to be the lady of this house."

  He tilted his head to one side and studied me. "Have you found the house not to your liking?" he guessed.

  I whipped my head up and shook my head. "No! It's nothing like that!" I assured him.

  "Then is it the circumstances which brought you here?" he wondered.

  I turned my eyes to the floor and nodded. "It is," I whispered.

  "I see." His voice was soft and low.

  I sighed and looked up into his face. His expression was a dark mask that I could not read.

  "I cannot remain here," I told him. "When the snows leave then so must I."

  "There is nothing which can convince you otherwise?" he asked me.

  "Nothing I can-" A noise in the entrance hall arrested my attention from our dour conversation. Footsteps hurried up to the door and there came a knock.

  "My laird, a carriage comes," a voice called through the door.

  Lord Moray jumped to his feet and frowned. "Who in the blazes could that be?" I heard him whisper as he swept around the couch and to the door.

  He opened the entrance and revealed a servant who quickly stepped aside and bowed to him. "There are also two riders, my laird," the servant added.

  "To whom does the carriage belong?" Moray questioned him.

  "The markings indicate Laird Stewart," the servant replied.

  I noticed Moray stiffened. "I see. Prepare rooms for the laird and his company at once."

  "Aye, my laird," the servant answered, and he hurried off to obey.

  Lord Moray shut the door and turned to us. His lips were pursed tightly together, and more so when his eyes fell on me. He strode around the couch and knelt in front of me. I started back, but he clasped my hands in his and looked into my eyes.

  "Whatever you say, mention neither your reason for being here nor your seeing the White Lady," he ordered me.

  I blinked at him. "But why?"

  He shook his head. "That is not something of which you should worry, but promise me you will not speak of those two subjects."

  "But-"

  "Promise me."

  I sighed, but gave a nod. "I swear it."

  A small smile slipped onto his lips and he nodded. "Excellent."

  Lord Moray stood and his hands slipped off mine. I regretted the loss of contact, but I quelled the thoughts. I was determined to leave, and they would do me no good. The lord looked to his housekeeper.

  "Keep her by your side at all times," he ordered her.

  She bowed her head. "As you wish, my laird."

  The lord straightened and sighed. "Very good. Now let us greet these new guests."

  Greer set a hand on my arm and looked to the lord. "Should she not be kept out of sight, my laird?" she suggested.

  He shook his head. "No. It would be far worse for anyone to discover her being here without our knowing than to reveal her presence on our own terms." He turned his attention to me and offered his arm. "I know deceit is not in your nature, Abigail, but this ruse need only last as long as these guests remain. After that we shall send you on your way home."

  I raised an eyebrow. "London?" I guessed.

  He nodded. "London."

  "And you would have me leave even though your ancestor tells you I'm to be the lady of the house?" I wondered.

  "I would have you be happy wherever you are," he told me.

  I blushed and took his arm. "I will do as you ask," I promised.

  He smiled and pulled me to my feet. "I will ask no more of you, now come. I hear the carriage wheels arrive at the steps."

  Lord Moray guided me from the room and to the front doors with Mrs. Greer at an appropriate distance. Servants waited for us at the doors with our cloak and coat in their hands, and McKenna stood to one side. I glared at him, but he merely bowed to us.

  "My laird," he greeted Moray.

  "There are two riders with her?" he questioned his servant as he was helped into his coat.

  "Aye, my laird, but neither is the laird nor any of his usual staff," McKenna replied.

  "Find out who they are," Moray ordered him.

  "As you wish, my laird," McKenna answered.

  McKenna hurried into the east wing and the lord once again offered me his arm. I took it and we stepped outside into the falling snow, but my thoughts remained with the conversation between servant and master. An uneasy feeling washed over me that I could not shake.

  A large carriage sat close to the bottom of the right-hand stairs, and the top and rear each held a large trunk. Two riders cloaked in black and with their scarves wrapped around the lower part of their faces sat atop their horses close by the vehicle.

  "Now if you would follow my lead, my lady, then hopefully their short visit will be pleasurable," he whispered.

  "I will try my best," I offered.

  He studied me with a soft smile as we walked down the snow-covered steps at the front of the grand home. "It is a great pity you wish to leave so soon. You would have made a fine Lady Moray," he commented.

  I didn't have a chance to reply before we reached the final step and moved onto the gravel. Our feet crunched on the stone and snow as we made our way to the elegant carriage. A livery servant opened the door and set down the stool. A dainty foot emerged from the carriage, followed by an elegant skirt.

  The woman emerged, and my eyes widened as I beheld her beauty. Her chestnut hair shimmered even in the dim, cloudy day, and her complexion was a fashionable pale. The dress fit snug around her slim physique, so much different than my own plump figure, and her dainty hands showed no signs of labor. Her face was sharp, but not unflattering. In one gloved hand was a white fan, and strung around the wrist of her left hand was a small drawstring bag that matched her dress.

  Nearly everything about her was perfect. The only blemishes were her eyes and the curve of her pert red lips. The lips were forever in a mocking smile, and her eyes were narrow and hard. I felt a chill go through me the moment her eyes fell on my person, and it wasn't from the cold winter day.

  The lady stepped onto the soft snow and hurried over to us. She ignored me and held out a white-gloved hand to the lord. "Lord Moray, it's been far too long," she commented.

  He freed himself from my grip and took her offered hand to place a soft kiss on the fabric. "Indeed it has, Lady Stewart, but what do I owe the honor of this visit in such weather?"

  She laughed and tapped his shoulder with her closed fan. "There you are, always so blunt. Can't an old friend visit whenever she pleases?"

  "Indeed, she can, but in such weather pleasure turns to danger," he scolded her.

  Lady Stewart's eyes narrowed and her smile widened. "I prefer a little danger now and again, don't you?" she teased.

  "Aye, but alone?" he wondered as he looked past her at the carriage.

  She waved her fan and shrugged. "What can I say? My husband was too afraid to join me on this short journey, and I was dying to see you again." She glanced past him to me. "And who is this pretty little thing? A new servant?" she guessed.

  Moray stepped aside and I noticed a cross expression slipped onto his face. He gestured to me and bowed. "Lady Stewart, this is a distant relation of McKenna." My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened, and I choked on my angry words. Only a stern look in Moray's eyes stopped me from arguing vehemently against such a designation. He gestured to the woman. "Abigail McKenna, this is Lady Stewart."

  She opened her fan and her narrow eyes studied me f
rom over the top of the soft cloth. "I had no idea your quiet servant had relatives," she commented.

  "She is from another branch of the family, and intends to stay with us for only a short while," Moray explained.

  I curtsied to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stewart," I greeted her.

  Lady Stewart laughed and shook her head. "Please, call me Mae. I so detest the constant insistence for titles." She closed her fan and tapped Moray's shoulder. I wondered how he could stand such an annoyance. "This gentleman here, however, insists on such nuisances."

  Moray smiled and bowed. "Old habits are hard to push aside, but I am forever your servant, my lady."

  She sighed and half-turned to the carriage. Two of Moray's servants lifted the rear trunk while her own livery men had the trouble of fetching down the top trunk. "If you were my servant you would obey me in this matter, but as it is I can only use your own servants to-" One of the men stumbled and lost their grip on the handle of the trunk. The trunk dropped to the ground with a loud thunk. Lady Steward marched over to the men and glared at them with narrowed eyes. "Be more careful!" she snapped.

  "You have a great deal of clothes for a short visit, Lady Stewart," Moray commented.

  She turned back to him with her sly smile and returned to our company. "I hope to make this visit rather longer than usual. You know how difficult Charles can be, and when he puts himself in a sour mood he is unbearable. Well, he's put himself into such a state, and I couldn't stand him any longer. Then I remembered I hadn't seen you in so long, so here I am."

  Moray smiled and bowed. "And it is a pleasure to receive you, my lady."

  "Might I be received inside your lovely home?" she wondered as she wrapped her arms around herself. "It is rather chilly out here."

  "Of course. Please allow me." Moray offered her his arm, and she accepted. I glared at their connection as they passed by me, but a warning glance from Moray told me to hold my tongue.

  This would be a long visit.

  CHAPTER 11

  "Related to McKenna. . ." I spat out under my breath as I followed at a safe distance. "What poppycock."

  Mrs. Greer, who had traveled as far as the bottom of the steps, joined me by my side and looped her arm through one of mine.

  "Trust the laird to know what he's doing," she whispered to me.

  I frowned at her. "When he insults me so?" I hissed.