Wild Catriona

by Oliver, Marina

  'By the gleam in your eye, Mr Napier, you have some plot afoot,' she'd said.

  Rory wondered precisely what she was imagining. He could guess the general trend of her thoughts, and almost laughed at how inaccurate they would be. She would always assume a man had just one interest in a pretty young girl, and would not credit he had no romantic interest in Cat, but could work with her as a colleague.

  His spirits had lifted when he saw her, it was true, but that was because of the help she could give him. Yet were her suggestions helpful? Could they really work together? She was lively and pretty, and seemed even more attractive than at their previous meetings. Working together could be unwise, leading as it would to unsavoury gossip, but also because he might come to depend on her skills too much. When she married, as such a girl undoubtedly would, she would leave him and he would be unable to replace her.

  He'd slept little that night, as he'd alternately considered and rejected the incredible suggestions Catriona Duncan had made. She'd been persuasive, but the whole idea was preposterous. It was too radical a solution, and he'd be depending on something entirely new, untried, and too risky. If it failed, and it undoubtedly would, Uncle Matthew would rightly seize on it as evidence he was no longer fit to run the business.

  There was a knock on the door, and he went to open it. Catriona stood there, in the same gown, her cloak wrapped tightly round her to keep off the chill. It had turned colder overnight, there was even a threat of frost in the air.

  'Come in.'

  She looked at him, much shyer than she had been last night, and blinked hard.

  'You're not angry with me?'

  'Angry? Why should I be?'

  'Well, your landlady was so suspicious. She seemed to imagine I was there to rob you. Or her. And it was very late for a social visit. But this was business, not social. And if I hadn't done it straight away I'm not sure I'd have had the courage to do it later.'

  Rory gave a roar of laughter. 'You, lacking courage? Never! That's one quality you need never doubt you have. Now sit down, and tell me again how you come to be working as a chambermaid in Glasgow. I did understand that much.'

  Catriona shook her head. 'It's not important, I'd prefer to talk about what I suggested for your business.'

  'It's important to me, and I want to hear it all. Then I'll listen to your plans for me.'

  'Oh, very well,' she said with an impatient sigh, closed her eyes and adopted a long-suffering air, then recited so rapidly he had difficulty in following her words. 'My mother died, just after we heard that my father's ship had sunk, and he'd been drowned. I'd given up hope long since, but it was all that kept her alive. Afterwards, a horrid little man made me an offer. My aunt and uncle had been encouraging him, they wanted to be rid of me. And then Thomas, my cousin, wanted to set me up in Edinburgh as his mistress. I said I would.'

  'You agreed to that?' Rory interrupted the spate of words. He was exceedingly surprised. Catriona, unconventional as she was, had not seemed to him a loose woman.

  Unbidden, he found his thoughts dwelling on the sight of her long, bare legs as she'd ridden Samson at their first meeting. He pushed it from his mind. Such images did not help his concentration.

  Catriona glanced up at him and grinned. 'Mr MacNeill, the wretched man who offered for me, is a member of the Kirk Session in the parish. He threatened to summons me before it, and accuse me of lewd behaviour, of entertaining men up at the bothy.'

  'What? Surely he didn't mean that time we met? How despicable! Just because you refused him? How could he be so vindictive?'

  'He is,' she said quietly. 'And then Thomas, who had seen you ride away that day, said he'd give evidence against me if I did not agree to go with him. That would have been insupportable, but I could not face doing penance in front of the congregation. Not in sackcloth. I needed Thomas's help to get away,' she explained more slowly. 'I didn't mean to go with him to Edinburgh. I'd been locked in my room, you see, and only let out because Thomas had brought a friend home. I persuaded him to get Uncle Colin away from the house. He left a pack pony ready for me, I was able to load all my fabrics on him, and then I just left, on my own.'

  Rory was torn between fury on her account and amusement at her stratagems. 'I imagine your poor cousin was furious at being duped.'

  'Yes. He followed, with his friend, but I was able to hide. I imagine he'll have gone back to Edinburgh now. I'd have gone there, I intend to go to Holland, to my family, but I thought Thomas would be able to find me more easily there, so I came to Glasgow. I need to earn money for my passage, and it's easier to hide in a city.'

  'In case they come looking for you?'

  'Yes, but also I don't think they bother asking for testificates, as smaller towns do.'

  'Certificates of good behaviour? Those things you have to have before you can leave your parish? I very much doubt if your Mr MacNeill would have signed one of those!'

  'Quite so.'

  'But have you no money at all?'

  'No. That's why I obtained a job at the hotel and came to overhear you and your uncle. My uncle would not give me my mother's jewels. All I have is her locket and my fabrics, and I don't want to sell them, they are too precious, reminders of my parents.'

  'The ponies? What did you do with them?'

  Catriona explained her reluctance to sell them.

  Rory thought she was being over-scrupulous, considering the treatment she'd had from her uncle.

  'Shall I send them back for you?' he offered. At least he could do that, even if the other things she suggested were impossible. 'I could arrange it so that he thinks they came from Edinburgh.'

  'I'll need them to carry my fabrics to some port, when I've earned enough to pay for the passage. That's if you don't like my idea. Have you considered it?'

  'I can scarce believe what you propose. It's just not suitable, practical.'

  'It's simple enough,' Catriona declared, and she was clearly trying to hide her impatience. She rose from her chair and as she explained she walked about the office, and gesticulated fiercely.

  'I can design patterns for block printing, good ones, complicated ones. I can carve the blocks necessary to do it. I want you to buy them from me.'

  'But you heard what I told Uncle Matthew. The weavers have not enough skill yet. What good will new and elaborate patterns do when they cannot even manage to print simple ones properly?'

  'That is what I'm trying to explain. You will never obtain good work if they are not supervised. Set up a workshop here, in Glasgow, with men and women who are not weavers. They don't need to be skilled at that to do the printing. I will show them how to do it, and supervise them until they have it right.'

  'It sounds a good idea, I grant you, but it's impracticable,' he said. 'I can't afford it. Or, to be precise, my uncle cannot. It's his business, and I won't take such risks with his money.'

  'Can you afford to go on making losses with your methods as they are?' she demanded, swinging round to face him and placing her hands on the desk between them. 'The weavers will never improve, or not fast enough to save your scheme. I could do the work for a few weeks, and prove to your uncle that it is possible, and from the profits in selling my work, you could employ more people and I could teach them.'

  'They'd not accept a woman in charge.'

  She almost shouted at him in her fury. 'They? Who are "they"? Hidebound, stupid men who always want to do things the way they've always been done!'

  'But women – ' Rory began, and Cat imperiously waved him to silence and raised her voice.

  'Oh, you make me so angry! My cousins and the rest of the females in my Dutch family have supervised their workshops, without all this stupid fuss!'

  'They owned the business,' Rory managed to put in, struggling against the distraction of her heightened colour and heaving bosom. She could be remarkably pretty when animated like this.

  Catriona glared at him. 'They'll do what you say. And if they won't, employ women! In fact, it would probabl
y be better to employ women. They are accustomed to fine work, they will take greater care, and they won't be so pig-headed!'

  He shook his head. 'No, you wildcat. It would still cost money I can't afford.'

  'Instead you prefer to waste it by using incompetent weavers who don't really want to do the work.'

  Rory shook his head. 'They'll learn, they are getting better. Cat, I do appreciate your interest, but I can't take the risk. It's not my money, it's my uncle's business, he's anxious to make greater profit soon, and I am bound to act wisely for him. If I don't, goodness knows what he'll do. He might even throw me out.'

  'You are afraid. I thought you had more courage. So you won't take the risk that would prevent that?'

  She gave him a long, steady look, and then, before he could move from behind his desk, she swung round and left the office, closing the door with exaggerated care. Rory started after her, then halted. It was useless, he could not do it, and there was no more to say.

  *****

  Chapter 11

  Catriona walked rapidly away from Rory's office. Her fury with him gradually gave way to annoyance with herself that she had not been able to persuade him, that she had lost her temper and walked out when she ought to have stayed and tried harder to persuade him. She'd had such hopes of doing something she loved, and she admitted she'd been looking forward to working with Rory. Her steps slowed, and more coolly she began to reconsider the situation, and rehearse new arguments.

  She hated being defeated, and was determined to try once more. Before she could do this, however, she needed more ammunition. She looked round her and discovered she had, unaware, reached Glasgow Green. This large open space, one of her fellow maids had explained, had been freely available to the inhabitants of Glasgow for several hundred years, and was a favourite spot for walking in peace, and for visiting the occasional fairs and other attractions.

  She found a quiet, sheltered spot beside the river and despite the cold sat down to consider what she knew, and decide what further persuasions she might use on the obstinate Mr Napier.

  She thought back over the conversation she'd heard between Rory and his uncle. Two names had been mentioned, and she strove to recall the details. One was Silas MacNab, who apparently wanted to interfere, but for the moment she could not recall whether it had been said why or how. More importantly, there was another manufacturer, it seemed, who was trying to entice Rory's weavers away from him. Angus Mackenzie, that was the name. Could she somehow use this fact to persuade Rory that he needed her help?

  It would be necessary first to discover the details, and with renewed enthusiasm Catriona leapt to her feet and strode back towards the High Street. There would be places where this man was known, hatters and wig-makers, boot-makers and tailors, livery stables and inns. Surely he would purchase wine, and probably tobacco. He might supply some of the shops or warehouses with his own linens. At all of these places there were people she could approach, people low in the hierarchy such as shop assistants, servants and stable boys, who would be willing to gossip.

  For an hour she had no luck. The people she approached either did not know or were unwilling to talk about the man. Then her luck changed, and in one of the linen warehouses she discovered what she needed. Inside, she waited until one of the younger salesmen was free, and then approached him, gave him a dazzling smile, and requested to see some linen suitable for tablecloths.

  He heaved down a few bolts of cloth, and they entered into a discussion about the relative merits of tabby or basket weaves, while Cat fingered the different samples.

  'Is this one of Mr Mackenzie's linens?' she asked casually after a while.

  'Not this one, but if you want his, I believe we have a twill he supplies. Cheap, too,' he added.

  'I heard he was a successful manufacturer, that's all,' Cat said nonchalantly. 'He lives in Glasgow, doesn't he?'

  'Yes, he's well known here. His manufactory is near the river, past Gallowgate Green on the way to Blantyre, but he has a fine new house on Gallowgate itself.'

  Thanking him, and saying she would think about the linen he'd shown her, Catriona retreated. First she had to discover something about Angus Mackenzie, and consider the best way of approaching him. It was almost midday by now, and he would probably be in one of the taverns or coffee houses, where she could not go, eating his dinner. Finally she decided to do it by way of his servants. Most of these knew the business of their employers almost as much as the employers did.

  She glanced down at the gown she wore, and decided it was too fine for trying to gain the confidence of maidservants. She would be more successful if she wore the one given to her for her work in the hotel.

  The thought recalled her to the job she was supposed to be doing. Had her absence been discovered? It was bound to be noticed she had not done her work that morning. She shrugged. She could not possibly explain.

  Going back to her dormitory, however, and out again without being discovered, might be tricky. Fortunately there was a rear entrance, a small gate into the stable yard, leading to a narrow, rarely-used lane, which was partially hidden from view by the huge pile of firewood stacked against the wall alongside, and she was able to slip through that and gain the staircase without attracting unwelcome attention. Swiftly she changed her gown, wrapped a shawl about her head and shoulders. and went out again the same way.

  An hour later she was hovering beside the entrance to Mackenzie's stable yard watching the lads he employed. Soon one of the lads noticed her and lounged across

  'Looking fer someone?' he asked, and Catriona nodded.

  'I'm wondering whether my cousin could be working here,' she said, broadening her accent.

  'Don't yer know?'

  Catriona shrugged. 'He ran away from home, and my aunt sent to ask me to try and find him. I'm a chambermaid in one of the hotels,' she explained.

  'Only the two of us now,' he said gloomily. 'He let Billy go when he sold his pair o' chestnuts an' the carriage.'

  Had that been because of financial problems, Catriona wondered. She hoped so. If he was paying excessively high wages to the weavers he was enticing from Rory, that could be important, could mean he might soon have to stop.

  'Billy?' she asked, and tried to suppress her grin. 'Billy MacNeill?' she asked, trying to sound eager. Why not use the name of the obnoxious man who had driven her from her uncle's house? He should be of use for something.

  'That yer cousin?' the lad asked.

  She nodded. 'But he was called William at home. Do you know him?'

  He shook his head. 'It wasna yer cousin, then. Billy Macdonald, he was.'

  'Does your master not mean to buy more horses?' she went on, trying to sound sympathetic.

  'Don't look like it, do it, if he sold the carriage too,' was the gloomy reply.

  Catriona dropped her gaze to hide her satisfaction at this news. If Angus Mackenzie was feeling the pinch, and had to raise money for his schemes by retrenching, he would be of little further threat to her and Rory's business.

  Her business? The thought had slipped into her head unbidden, and she considered it. Well, it was true in a sense, or would be when she had persuaded Rory to her way of thinking, as she had every intention of doing. Without her knowledge it was unlikely that Rory could succeed in sufficient time to satisfy his uncle. Therefore it would be her business as much as it was his.

  She thanked the boy, and walked slowly back to the hotel. She was so busy with her plans she forgot to approach it at the back, and walked in through the stable yard, just after a large coach had clattered out through the archway.

  'And what do you think you're doing, Miss?' a loud, furious voice interrupted her musings.

  It was the landlord, about to return to the hotel, no doubt after seeing off some important guests. Catriona smiled at him.

  'I had to go out, family business,' she said cheerfully. She might as well stick to the same story, it made life less complicated.

  The manager visibly swelled
and his face grew red. 'I don't employ you to have you vanish for a whole morning without so much as an apology!' he roared at her. 'There's enough work here without you taking it into your head that we can do without you.'

  Catriona looked at him consideringly, and then decided to try and placate him. Confident though she was that she could eventually persuade Rory to her way of thinking, it would be foolish to walk away from this job. She hadn't time to waste trying to find another.

  'I'll do it now,' she promised.

  'Oh, will you?' he shouted, and Cat suddenly became aware of several interested maids and ostlers watching from windows and stable doorways.

  'I haven't had my half day yet,' she pointed out. 'I'm entitled to one each week. That was what you said, what was agreed when I was offered the job.'

  'And you'll take it when I say, not when you think you will! What's the world coming to when chits of girls try to tell me how to run my own business? Next, I imagine, you'll be wanting to tell me how to organise the kitchen, or run the stables!'

  Catriona suppressed a grin. 'Well, you do serve rather a lot of mutton,' she said, 'and I don't think – '

  He took an angry step towards her, his hand raised. She stared at him defiantly, refusing to back away. 'Get out, you little whore! Get off my premises now! I won't endure such impudence! And you needn't think you'll be paid! Five minutes, and if you're not gone I'll throw you out myself, and your possessions after you.'

  *****

  'It won't do.'

  'It's barely noticeable, Mr Rory, and it's getting better,' Joshua said pleadingly.

  'It was, but this is worse. Why? I want it perfect. I won't have people saying my linen's inferior, and you know some of them will be looking for the slightest fault, and exaggerating it in order to gain advantage.'

  Rosy went back to his desk. He'd been hoping this last batch of samples Joshua had collected would be good enough for him to show his uncle. Apart from his desire to do well for the sake of the business and himself, Matthew would probably be willing to return home once he was sure the business was not about to collapse, a result he was predicting almost every time Rory saw him.