Megan Denby

by A Thistle in the Mist

  “Thank you, sir, I’m lookin’ forward to meetin’ yer children as well.” My voice wavered slightly, belying my uncertainty. Prickly sweat warmed my back as his eyes scanned my nightmarish frock once more.

  Next, John Carleton turned to Rabbie. Without a trace of contempt, his eyes moved slowly over Rabbie’s raw-boned physique. His brown eyes warmed considerably and his smile was genuine.

  Rabbie thrust out his hand. “Pleased to meet ye, Mr. Carleton.”

  John Carleton clasped Rabbie’s hand in his as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve already filled the position of stable boy, Rabbie.” A flush crept up Rabbie’s still face before John continued, “However, I am looking for a young man with an aptitude for horses. Captain McDougall tells me you’ve had considerable experience. I need someone to train horses I’ve recently acquired as well as a driver for my new carriage. Are you interested?” Rabbie’s head shot up and a smile spread across his face.

  “Oh aye, sir, aye!” John still held Rabbie’s hand and Rabbie pumped John’s hand enthusiastically as though he hoped to get water. John smiled at Rabbie’s eagerness.

  “Well then, ha’ we got ourselves a deal, Johnny?” The captain beamed, undoubtedly pleased with his newest venture. John nodded and without a second glance, he scrawled his signature on the forms the captain held out to him. Rabbie then turned to the captain.

  “Thank ye for everything, Captain.”

  “It were nothin’, laddie. Just take care of that sister of yers, lad. I’ll check in on the rest o’ yer family for ye when I get back to Scotland.” His silvery eyes shifted from Rabbie’s and pointedly held mine as he took a long draw on his pipe.

  John reached out and rested his hand on Rabbie’s shoulder. “If you would be so kind as to show your sister to my carriage, I’ll finish up my business with Captain McDougall and then we’ll be on our way.” He squeezed Rabbie’s shoulder and pointed to an elegant carriage drawn by two long-legged black thoroughbreds.

  “Goodbye, Captain.” I stood awkwardly for a moment then threw my arms around a very surprised and stiff-backed Duff McDougall. “Thank ye so much!”

  With unpracticed hands, he patted my shoulder, his voice gruff. “Aye, lass, all the best to ye, now.”

  Rabbie grabbed my hand and without looking back, we picked our way through the throng. The ornately carved, enclosed carriage had graceful, curved lines. The front wheels were smaller than the rear and the front curved down to house a bench where I assumed the driver would sit.

  Rabbie reached out and held the door for me. I climbed up and slid into the luxury of the cushioned interior. I peered back out the little window at the bustling little town, at the families strolling up Water Street, the cozy frame houses and the church and I felt a little sick as I wondered where this magnificent carriage would take me.

  ******

  Time crawled as we headed to Carleton’s home in Yarmouth. The carriage was fine indeed, but I was jostled about, most uncomfortably. The spoked wheels seemed to seek out each pothole that scored the dirt road.

  John Carleton had chosen to ride atop the carriage with Rabbie, rather than inside with me. He was kind indeed, as the Captain had promised, but at the same time, he exuded an air of reserve. I had been quite relieved actually, not to have to converse with my new employer.

  The countryside rolled by my small window. We passed through lush river valleys and heavily forested areas but the plummeting sea cliffs and bold mountain peaks I yearned for were but a distant memory and my thoughts turned inward.

  Angus undoubtedly would be unable to send us the funds we needed. How would we get home? And how would I pay for the voyage? Well I would bloody well run away before I would spend my two contract years here. That’s what I would do! I would wait until we received the reply from Angus and if need be I would run away and stow aboard a Scotland bound ship!

  Abruptly, images of my family exploded in my mind. Mother’s joyous zest for life and her warm, honeysuckle-scented hugs made my heart ache. How I needed to feel her arms about me now. And my sister... Hannah’s adoring smile and gentle nature. They were both dead now, gone forever. And Da. “She’s full o’ piss ‘n vinegar, the wee lass is.” I smiled and could almost hear the boom of his voice as he proudly bragged of my lively escapades. I hadn’t allowed myself to even think of Da in a long time. Where was he? Was he alive? In all probability he was not. They had most likely killed him as well, I thought dully. And wee Heath, my reason for living, my reason for drawing each breath. And Duncan, my husband, my heart. Why had he not answered my letters? What had kept him from coming back? Had something happened? No! No! I wouldn’t let myself think beyond that.

  My head ached and I massaged my temples with the tips of my fingers. I pulled the curtain across the window. Forcing myself to relax, I rested my head against the lavish cushions and closed my eyes.

  ******

  I awoke, somewhat disoriented, some time later. The carriage was motionless and filled with shadow. I shoved the curtain away from the small window and peered out.

  The setting sun cast a soft, ruddy glow that, before my eyes, faded to the muted grey of nightfall. The steady hum of mosquitoes and the chirp of crickets were interrupted at regular intervals by the low galump of bullfrogs.

  I sat upright and stretched. My cramped muscles groaned and the bones in my neck crunched as I rotated my head back and forth.

  I fumbled about in the dusky light for the handle and opened the carriage door, my stomach suddenly uneasy. Cool, pine-scented air and the horsey smell of a nearby stable floated up my nostrils. I breathed deeply. It had been so long since I had smelled anything but the tang of sea air and the stink of unwashed bodies. With a bittersweet pang, I realised these familiar smells reminded me of home, of Duncan.

  Gingerly, I stretched one leg out into the twilight until my slippered foot rested on solid ground. Where were Rabbie and Mr. Carleton?

  As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, my question was answered. I could just make out the silhouette of Rabbie as he brushed down the horses but Mr. Carleton was nowhere in sight.

  Rabbie glanced up and I saw a gleam of white teeth as he grinned at me. “Och, Meara, hope I didna wake ye.”

  Walking stiffly, my feet beginning to tingle, I moved over to him. “Nay, laddie,” I answered while I curiously peered around. Lamplight glowed from several curtained windows to my left. The drone of male voices hummed from within the wooden structure. “Where are we, Rabbie?” I asked as I reached out and rubbed my hand down the velvety muzzle of the nearest horse.

  “It’s an inn, Meara. John owns it. He owns four of them and he’s spent the last six weeks travellin’ and inspectin’ each one. He does that every few months to make sure they’re bein’ run properly. We’re goin’ to stay at this one for the night. I’ll just finish up here and then I’ll take ye in.” He turned back to the other horse he had been brushing down. It gently nickered and swished its tail back and forth, clearing away the flies and mosquitoes.

  I stared at Rabbie’s back thoughtfully. He certainly had learned a lot about our new employer. Some time during the day, Mr. Carleton had become John. His casual use of Mr. Carleton’s given name surprised me.

  I gave the horse’s neck a homesick hug and turned back to the hotel. I could just make out ornate lettering on a sign that hung over the door.

  THE CARLETON HOUSE

  Genteel Boarding and Lodging, Good Stabling, Hay and Oats for Horses

  Well, at least the horses would eat well tonight, I thought wryly. As if on cue my stomach rumbled its annoyance, confirming the fact that I was famished.

  Rabbie tossed a blanket over each horse’s back and guided them to the stable, a wing off the rear of the main building. Together we walked to the front door of the inn. Rabbie reached out for the handle, then paused and glanced at me. “Well here goes, Meara.” Again I saw the flash of white teeth. Then he pushed open the door.

  Tantalising smells of roasted meat and pastries beckon
ed to us. My stomach gurgled loudly in response and I was thankful for the voices that drowned out the noise. Rabbie slipped his arm through mine and we stepped over the threshold.

  Conversation halted. All eyes settled on us.

  Several men were seated at each of the eight tables that crowded the dining room. A longer table, heavily laden with platters of food, sat in the middle of the room. At the moment, Mr. Carleton was standing by the dining table. A plump, but comely lass, her astonishing bosom prominently displayed above her square neckline, was serving him dinner. She smiled up at him, her eyelashes fluttering outrageously, as she ladled a thick stew onto his plate. He appeared not to see the bold flirtation and then noticed us.

  “Rabbie, come, come young man.” He smiled graciously and waved us over to a vacant table. “And Miss Meara.” He pulled out two vacant chairs and gestured for us to sit. He called back over his shoulder to the serving girl. “Bring two more plates, Abigail.” He turned back to us and missed the sullen pout that tightened Abigail’s painted mouth. I sat down and instantly became aware of the silence within the room. Warily, I glanced around and found that I was the focus of several curious stares. A cold ball formed in my stomach, another result of Sean’s attack. My face burned and I was suddenly conscious of my harlot’s frock and wild hair.

  Mr. Carleton broke the silence and addressed the room. “Gentlemen, may I introduce young Rabbie and his sister, Miss Meara,” He paused and looked to us, eyebrows raised in question, “I’m embarrassed to say I don’t remember your family name.”

  “MacLean... McLeod.” Rabbie and I answered simultaneously. My mouth gaped in dumb horror as I realised our blunder. Helplessly, I turned to Rabbie.

  “Well, now, that’s interesting.” John’s liquid eyes narrowed speculatively as he stared at us. “What is it, MacLean or McLeod?”

  “Actually sir, it’s both, ye ken.” Rabbie looked directly into Carleton’s eyes and smoothly continued, “Our family name is MacLean but my sister was married briefly to Duncan McLeod. Sadly, her husband was killed in battle.”

  Rabbie’s words stabbed deep. I felt as though I’d been punched in the stomach. Had Duncan been killed? Was he truly dead? I had not allowed myself to even think this. But now that Rabbie had spoken these horrific words, it seemed to make the possibility, that Duncan was dead, terrifyingly real to me, even likely. Mother of God, no, I prayed.

  I breathed through my nose trying to rid myself of the sick feeling that had come over me then realised that Mr. Carleton was staring at me. He nodded sympathetically, “My deepest sympathy, Miss Meara.” Rabbie’s explanation had apparently appeased him. I noticed only the tips of Rabbie’s ears had turned pink. His hand found mine under the table and I clasped it gratefully.

  Abigail carried two steaming plates of food to our table. Her eyes held mine and with a sugary smile she plunked the heaping plate down before me. Gravy, from the stew, sloshed up and splattered the front of my gown.

  “Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, miss. I’m terribly sorry! How clumsy of me!” With great care, she set Rabbie’s plate before him and hurriedly snatched a cloth napkin from the table and mopped at the brown stains, her fingers roughly brushing my breasts. “Heaven’s above, look what I’ve done ter your beautiful gown. What a shame! I didn’t mean ter spill! I don’t know if the stains’ll come out of those luverly bows.”

  From afar Abigail may have appeared quite remorseful. But as she leaned closely over me, I saw evidence of a glint in her pale green eyes and heard the slice of insincerity in her voice. She paused, her fingers cupped around my breast and stared into my eyes, her upper lip quirked.

  I grabbed the hand and compressed the fingers between mine. I looked directly into her startled eyes and replied softly, “Dinna fash, lassie. I’d be more concerned about what else yer spillin’!” I stared pointedly at the twin white mounds that threatened to explode.

  The room erupted in raucous laughter. Abigail’s eyes snapped and an angry blush flooded her face as she snatched her hand from mine. I smiled sweetly back at her.

  “Bitch!” she hissed for my ears only.

  Then she spun around to face the laughing men. Brazenly cupping a breast in each hand, she hoisted them even higher, then bent low in a mock curtsey. It seemed to me that the possibility of her breasts spilling from the ineffective barrier was not only probable but alarmingly imminent. The men’s laughter turned to hoots and hollers of encouragement.

  “Don’t stop there, Abigail!”

  “Right Dolly, take ‘er all off!”

  The eyelashes fluttered again and she turned back to our table. Her eyes pierced mine with an icy glare. Then she retrieved Rabbie’s dinner, her full mouth carrying a satisfied smile. She reached over his shoulder and set the plate in front of him with exaggerated care so that her bosom rested intentionally on his shoulder. Poor Rabbie’s eyes bugged, nearly popping from their sockets. This time the scarlet blush could not be contained and extended from the roots of his fiery hair and down his neck to disappear beneath the neckline of his tight shirt.

  “There you are, sir. Enjoy!”

  Rabbie nodded dumbly in blissful mortification.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the stunned expression on Rabbie’s face. The little trollop knew exactly what she was doing. Then I noticed my new employer. His eyes sparkled with anger as he surveyed Abigail’s antics.

  “Abigail!” he snapped. The furious authority in his voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Her smirk vanished and she quickly stepped back from Rabbie. Eyes averted, she returned to the dining table. Throwing a quick look over her shoulder, she filled two mugs.

  Her eyes darted cautiously to Mr. Carleton’s face as she carefully set the mugs before Rabbie and I. But Carleton was more interested in Rabbie’s reaction than in Abigail and she turned away. Flashing a saucy smile at her captive audience, she winked at me then sashayed from the room, substantial hips swaying provocatively.

  “Let me apologise for that tawdry display. I’m afraid I will have to let that young lady go.” Carleton’s voice was low and tight, his eyes trained on Rabbie.

  “Och, dinna let her go on our account, John. I think the lass was just havin’ a wee bit of fun. No harm done.” Rabbie spoke to John, but his eyes were trained on the kitchen door. Apparently, Rabbie had enjoyed her ‘wee bit of fun’, though really there was nothing ‘wee’ about dear Abigail.

  Carleton watched Rabbie, his teeth clenched and jaw muscles bunched in annoyance.

  I watched Carleton, puzzled. Why was he so displeased? What the serving lass had done was vulgar indeed, but really no harm had come, aside from my gravy-stained dress. It didn’t seem to warrant Abigail’s dismissal. But from the little I’d seen of my new employer, it was clear that he had high standards and expected the same from his hired help – something I would definitely keep in mind.

  Well, no matter, I had something far more pressing to contend with; namely the delectable meal before me. Conversation resumed and Rabbie and Carleton were soon engrossed in an animated discussion about horses. As it appeared I was not required to participate in the conversation, I smoothed the napkin on my lap and picked up my fork.

  The fragrant stew was rich with chunks of beef, potatoes, carrots, small pearl onions and fat, doughy dumplings. Sweet butter had been liberally slathered on a thick slice of fresh bread. A chunk of cheese shared the remaining space on my plate with a wedge of savoury venison pie.

  The meal was heavenly, far surpassing the fare that we had been served at sea. On the ship, I had exercised great caution when biting into the stale biscuits after finding a nest of red worms in the centre of one of the hard lumps. If I hadn’t been starving, I wouldn’t have touched another.

  Red worms, however, were a far-off memory as I savoured each succulent morsel. It didn’t take long before my plate was empty. I had to resist the urge to pick up my plate and lick it clean. I felt my eyelids droop in sudden exhaustion. Folding my napkin, I placed it on the table and reached for my
mug. I took a deep swallow. Instantly vile-tasting liquid gushed from my mouth and spurted from my nose. Rabbie thumped my back while I choked and spit and gasped for air in a most unladylike manner.

  What I had assumed to be water was instead a mug of straight whiskey. Again I found myself the centre of unwanted attention. Leering male eyes moved over me with amused interest.

  “Meara, are ye all right, lass?” Rabbie asked, concern edging his voice. I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Rabbie, perhaps your sister would like to retire for the evening. I’ll have Abigail heat some water and fill the tub in her room,” Carleton suggested, with a slight grimace.

  Rabbie nodded distractedly as he continued to pat my pack. I felt like an idiot as everyone stared at me and I was more than happy to flee the probing stares.

  “Abigail.” John’s voice sliced the room like a newly honed blade.

  The saucy serving girl had just returned from the kitchen and was clearing away the remains of dinner. With stiff shoulders she turned to our table.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Show our guest to her room. Heat enough water to fill the tub.” I physically hunched my shoulders against the daggers that shot from her eyes. To add insult to injury, John added, “Oh and see that her gown is laundered.”

  “I’d be delighted, sir.” Dual spots of anger dotted Abigail’s fair cheeks, testifying to her delight. Her stare met mine, her fists tight at her sides. Had we been alone, I felt sure she would have gouged out my eyes. I made a mental note to test the water before stepping into the tub, for I had no doubt Abigail would like nothing better than to boil me alive.

  ******

  It turns out I was wrong.

  Abigail lugged countless pails of water to my second floor room. I offered to help but she answered with snarled insults each time she entered. So having nothing better to do, I sat on the lovely soft bed, trying not to fall asleep. With each trip to my room, I couldn’t help but notice the traces of perspiration gathering on her glistening bosom and I settled back against the pillows, trying not to stare. After she dumped the last pail into the tub, she turned to me and I was surprised to see her full lips curved in a disturbing but not altogether unpleasant smile.