Full Mackintosh

by Deb Kemper

  Beside her, a younger woman who resembled the elder, held a handkerchief to her delicate nose. Amalie smiled and dropped her gaze to the well-laid table.

  As Garth sat, those standing returned to their seats.

  “Why do the girls need instruction from a stranger?” His sister complained in a nasal whine.

  Garth squinted at her. “Because I say and their mother desired it.” His voice took a harsh edge. “Ye’ll not argue. If it offends ye, go home.” He shook out a white linen napkin and draped his lap.

  The dowager clicked her tongue. “Garth, ye ken how I feel about giving girls too much attention, much less teachin’ them to read and write. Hah! It’s foolishness. They’ll learn all they need to know from their husbands.” She patted her daughter’s arm.

  Amalie peeked up and caught sparks of defiance in Garth’s eyes as he addressed his parent.

  “Ye may leave my house with yer daughter, madam. Ye’ve made me aware of yer concern about the way I raise my children and run my household. Ye needn’t feel obliged to stay. We all know how the country air affects yer ill health. We live in the castle, in the midst of the Highlands, because you live in Moy Hall. I promised Da I would tend yer needs.”

  Tension percolated in the room. Guests kept their eyes to their plates.

  The women murmured between themselves as servants passed food.

  The laird sipped, from a tankard, and studied the women. After filling his plate and giving his relations time to discuss their plans he interjected another suggestion.

  “I can have yer team hitched at first light, ladies. You’ll be back at Moy a tick after dark.” He scooped a forkful of potatoes. “What say ye, ma’am?” He ate cheerfully and enjoyed their discomfort, a belligerent smile in place.

  ****

  The following day, Gerty tapped on Amalie’s door as she opened it. “Are ye ready to meet the wee lassies?”

  Amalie smoothed her hands down the front of her borrowed skirt. “Aye, Gerty, let’s be about it, then.”

  They began the trek down the long corridor. “Afterwards I’m to take ye to the dressmaker. Millie wrote instructions for her. Master gave her a list of dresses she’s to make fer ye. That’s excitin’ now, ain’t it?”

  Amalie frowned. “Thank you, Gerty. I could’ve sent home for clothes but it would take a while, to be dressing normally again.” She wrung her hands. “Tell me about the laird’s daughters.”

  “Mallow’s verra smart. She’s like a mam to Mary Jessica.” Gerty stopped near the nursery doorway. “The Mackintosh don’t call her Mary cause ’twas her mam’s name. We do, but not to his hearing.” She shook her head.

  “Thank you, Gerty, for telling me. I’ll keep your trust.” Amalie dried her damp hands on her skirt. Why am I so nervous?

  Gerty turned the latch on the heavy door. “’ere we are then, girls, Miss Amalie’s come to meet ye.”

  Mallow’s hazel eyes met Amalie’s. Dark wavy hair reached her waist, held back with a green ribbon to match her dress. She stood and curtsied. “How do, miss?”

  “Very well, thank you, Mallow.” Amalie smiled appreciation.

  Mary Jessica followed suit, an eye on her sister for approval. Her shiny dark blonde hair lay in waves down her back. After receiving a nod from her sister, her hazel eyes met Amalie’s. “We’re glad to see ye, miss.”

  Amalie laughed and reached for Mary Jessica’s hand. “And I am pleased to meet you, Mary Jessica.”

  “Come sit to our table.” The tot tugged her hand. “We’re havin’ a tea party wif’ our babes.”

  Mallow winked at Amalie. “At day’s light we rise, to say our prayers and….” Her pause signaled her little sister.

  “Wash ’er faces and have tea wif’ de bairns.” Mary Jessica proudly announced with a brilliant smile. She reached to her right and straightened her cloth doll with yarn hair made to resemble her. “Dis is Miss Amalie, Meg.” She smiled up at Amalie. “She likes ye. She’s a good girl most a de time.”

  “I’m sure she is. What’re we having for tea this fine morning?”

  ****

  Late afternoon, Gerty led Amalie across the dusty barmekin lane. “Mrs. Grant’s a fine seamstress, and fast too. She’ll have ye clothed in no time at all.” Gerty smiled all the time. She opened the door of the dressmaker’s shop. “Allo, Mrs. Grant. This here is Miss Amalie.”

  Amalie nodded. “Ma’am.”

  Mrs. Grant grinned. “I understand we’re to spend a bit o’ time fitting ye.”

  “Aye, ma’am.” Amalie watched as Gerty handed over a written list.

  The seamstress studied the paper for a moment and smiled. “It seems ye need about everything. Come to the back then, we’ll begin.”

  “I’ll be leavin’ ye, Miss Amalie. Shall I return for ye or can ye find yer way?”

  “I believe I can find my way back, Gerty. Thank you kindly.” Amalie followed Mrs. Grant through a thick curtain into the back room.

  “Do ye prefer skirts and blouses to dresses?” The seamstress asked.

  “Whatever suits you, ma’am.” Amalie felt inadequate to place an order.

  “Well, the master instructs that ye have what ye want.” She laid down the list. “And he orders no less than three dresses for dances, he says ‘to start.’”

  “Oh, well then…I do like dresses and I’m fond of color.” She glanced around the room at reams of fabric.

  “Then come along with me and choose the fabric ye like and we’ll get ye measured.”

  Amalie complied, surprised at the opulence of some of the cloth. “These are very nice.” She fingered an emerald green silk.

  “The master has shipping interests.” Mrs. Grant’s voice lowered. “He has cloth sent from all over the world. He says, ‘why shouldn’t the Chattan women be as well dressed as those in Paris?’ I order what the ladies like and he sees that we get it.” She pulled the bolt off the shelf and spread it out for Amalie’s inspection.

  “I prefer simple designs.” Amalie suggested.

  “Aye, I see why. Ye have plenty natural to work with.” She laid a skein of lace over the silk. “What ye think o’ this?” She smoothed her worn hand over the combination.

  Amalie glowed. “It’s lovely. Are you sure that’s what The Mackintosh had in mind?” Her furrowed brow tinged her smile.

  Mrs. Grant produced a ball of twine. “Aye, he says whatever suits ye. Do ye sew?” She measured Amalie’s height to her neckline and cut the twine.

  “A little. I learned to tat lace, at a young age. If you can get the thread for me, I’d love to teach Mallow and Jessica.” She turned to hold her arms straight out from her body.

  “We’ll look in my trunk before ye go. I store leftovers ye can have to start.” The seamstress wrapped the twine around Amalie’s waist. “Ye’re shapely. We wanna show that off a bit.”

  Amalie paled. “But modestly.”

  “Aye, dearie, modestly.”

  ****

  Several weeks after she arrived, Amalie positioned a chair nearest Jessica’s bed one evening. A small lamp on a stand shone over her shoulder. The nursemaid folded clothes and straightened the room.

  “What say you to a bedtime story?” Amalie offered brightly.

  “Is it a tale of faeries and sprites?” Mallow seemed unsure.

  Amalie smiled. “No, no, no. You’re too bright for that. This is a story about a man named Noach.”

  “I dunno that story.” Jessica snuggled with Meg in her arms and turned on her side to see Amalie better.

  “Well, Noach was an ordinary man who loved God, you see. God spoke to Noach and told him to build a boat. It was no regular boat but a vast ship, for it would hold animals.”

  “Animals on a boat?” Mallow leaned up on her elbow. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because God was sendin’ rain and it had never rained on the earth before. The dew fell at night whilst people slept and in the mornin’ the ground was wet. That’s how plants grew.”

  “It nev
er rained before?” Mallow was skeptical.

  “Never, so when Noach began to build the ship he was the laughingstock of his village. ‘Water fallin’ from the sky? He’s a lunatic!’ they said. He endured great torment following God’s orders. Every day for about eighty years Noach worked on the ship until God spoke to him again and said it was time to gather food. So Noach and his family stored provisions in the ship, food for every kind of animal, in the world at the time.”

  “Even snakes?” Jessica’s hazel eyes grew large.

  “Aye, even snakes, little one.”

  “So, all his family labored for days to stock the ship with food for themselves and the animals. Then God spoke to Noach again and said it was time to get the animals together, a male and a female from each kind.”

  “That’s a lad and a lass, Jessie.” Mallow interjected.

  “Aye, a lad and lass from every species. So, there were elephants and tigers, lions and rhinoceroses. There were gorillas, monkeys, like in the book we read today, and dogs. There were giraffes; remember those from the book we read last week, Jessica?”

  The wee one nodded, enraptured by the story.

  “Every animal pair had its own room with hay or grain or grass, whatever it ate, was in its room, along with water and bedding, where needed.”

  “It hard to see how a tiger and a horse could be together on the same ship.” Mallow reasoned.

  “Aye, but when the God above all gods says it will be, then it will be.” Amalie assured her.

  Garth climbed the stairs to say goodnight to his girls. Finished with the day, before my lasses are asleep, fer a change. He spied a small crowd gathered at the end of the long passage by the nursery.

  He eased up behind Millie and whispered. “What’s this then?”

  “Shh, Amalie’s tellin’ the girls a story.” She looked back and realized she’d shushed the laird. “I’m sorry, sir. We been doing this ever’ night since she got here.” She whispered as she dusted the front of her aparan with rough hands.

  “Tis alright, Millie. May I stay and listen too?” He kept his voice low.

  “Aye, sir, take my place so’s ye can hear her.”

  Garth stepped into the void and leant his ear to the softly spoken words coming from his daughters’ room. He hesitated for a moment, then excused himself, as he wedged into the deep entryway where he could clearly hear his girls respond. The nursemaid walked by and saw him, but he held a finger to his lips and she looked away. He leaned on the built-in cabinet behind him, hanging on every word Amalie spoke.

  “…God looked to and fro all over the earth and he found there was no one willin’ to do His work but Noach. So, because the rest of the people on earth were evil and mean, God decided to destroy it. He gave the people forty years to turn from their wickedness and follow Him, but they refused.” She held herself straight as an arrow in the hard-backed chair.

  “But I thought He loves us.” Mallow studied Amalie as she reasoned with her.

  “He does, but you get tired of lovin’ people and being good to them all the time and they don’t love you back, now don’t you?”

  “True that.” Mallow laid on her pillow bunched up at the corner. She glanced up and saw a large shadow from the entryway. She smiled. “Da’s here to say goodnigh’.”

  Garth stepped through into the room. “How’d ye know?”

  “Ye make a big shadow. Ye canna hide.” Mallow giggled.

  Jessica dozed. Garth kissed her lightly and whispered, “Goodnigh’ little one, I’ll see ye on the morrow.”

  Mallow wrapped her arms around his neck when he bent over her. “I love ye, Da, jest so’s ye know that. I’ll always love ye.”

  He nodded. “And I’ll always love ye too, Mallow. No matter what happens ye can count on it.”

  “What’re ye bout to do?” She held on tight.

  “Soon as I break yer hold, I’m going to my study to watch the fire ’til I’m sleepy, then go to bed.” He nuzzled against her neck until she squealed. “Now, I’ll see ye on the morrow, too, my pet.” He kissed her cheek, stood erect, and looked into Amalie’s eyes with a smile.

  “Goodnight, my laird.” She offered.

  “Not yet, Miss Amalie.” He tilted his head toward the door extending his hand to her.

  She rose and went with him. “On the morrow, girls.”

  Nurse closed the door behind them.

  Chapter 4

  Once inside the study, Amalie felt bold enough to address Garth. “Is it acceptable to tell stories, to the girls, from the Bible?” She blushed.

  “Aye. They don’t hear enough of it at chapel that they can understand. If ye make it simpler fer ’em, that’s fine.” He poured mead in a tankard. “May I offer ye mead or maybe a sherry?”

  Amalie brightened. “A small glass of sherry would please me, thank you.”

  He poured the fortified wine, he’d brought to his study, when he found she favored the drink. He placed the tiny glass beside her on a small table and took his seat across from her. “Now, tell me what else ye’ve been up to.” He leaned back in the chair.

  She became animated, talking about her day with his daughters. “Jessica is a delight. She’s so full of questions. I’ve not had a pupil as young as she for several years. They give us new eyes to view the world, so innocent and fragile. Mallow’s like a sponge, soaking up every word or new idea.” She sat back and flushed at his perusal. “I’m sorry, sir, I do go on a bit. I love teachin’.”

  He grinned and sipped his mead. “It delights me that ye find my girls impressive. I share yer opinion. The kirk master helped Mallow learn to read and she’s done well alone, but…I’m very satisfied that ye’re here to teach her further. She’s too smart fer her age and takes pleasure in bringing us all to task.”

  Amalie laughed. A bright flush struck her rosy mouth. “Aye, she’s corrected me a few times already.”

  ****

  A week later, the rising sun barely made a spark through Amalie’s window, when Gerty flung her bedroom door wide. “Millie’s makin’ bread this mornin’, miss.”

  Amalie finished tying on her aparan. “I know. I’m takin’ the girls to the kitchen to help. Mallow’s rarely in there, during preparation. A woman has to know how to find the kitchen, if she’s to run it someday.”

  “Aye, miss.” Gerty giggled. “Do ye ken the kitchen, then?”

  “I can cook, if you’re askin’.” She smiled, recalling her home in Dublin. “Feast days are the most fun to prepare.” She dropped her gaze and swiped a tear. Soon enough I’ll be back among my own people and our ancient rituals. Will anyone recollect the teacher of the Mackintosh girls in years to come? What legacy will I leave behind?

  She scanned the room to see if she had everything. “I’m off to fetch the little ones, Gerty. Thank you for cleanin’ my room.” She closed the door behind her, looking forward to the day with Mallow and Jessie.

  In the kitchen, the girls washed and tied aparans over their dresses. Amalie moved a solid chair beside the table for Jessie to stand upon.

  Millie carried a large wooden dough bowl in the bend of her arm to the preparation table. “I began without ye so’s ye could roll dough soon as ye came.” She sprinkled flour with a practiced hand, covering the top of the table. “We’ll mix another batch while these rise.”

  Mallow watched closely. Jessie stood on the chair, fingers flexing.

  “I see ye can hardly wait to get the flour all over ye.” Millie smiled at the wee one.

  Amalie stood beside her with a hand on her back. “Jessie, watch Mallow. See how she dips her hands in the flour and rubs them together? That keeps the dough from stickin’ to them.”

  Jessica followed instructions. Millie cut off a small ball of dough and handed it to her, giving Mallow a larger piece. The girls watched as Millie kneaded the bread, imitating her movements, with little grace. After a few turns, Mallow began to get the rhythm, pushing with the heel of her hand and folding it back with her fingertips to p
ress it forward again.

  Jessica had dough spread between her fingers studying the feel of the goo. Amalie let her explore.

  “Not that way, Jessie.” Mallow scolded. “Now you’re a mess!”

  Amalie placed a hand on Mallow’s shoulder, bent to her ear, and whispered. “She’s only four. Let her play. You’re the one who needs to learn the proper way today.” Mallow glanced up, blushing, only to find Amalie smiling down at her. “There’ll be time for her later.”

  She nodded. “Aye, miss.” She continued to knead her mound of dough. “Might we have our bread for dinner?’

  Millie smiled. “Absolutely! Ye can’t tell how well ye’ve done if ye don’t get to eat it.” She shaped her loaf and plopped it into a pan.

  Amalie noticed several women working at a large cauldron stirring in precious sugar and fruit gathered from the wild and the kitchen orchard. “Are you making wine punch?”

  “Aye, the wine for Martinmas punch was made summer before last and stored in the cellar to age. The laird brought back a wagonload of supplies. He gave a special order for the sugar.” Millie shaped another loaf.

  “We’ll have to look on the globe, Mallow, and figure how long it took to travel all the way to Inverness across the ocean.” Amalie added brightly.

  Mallow smiled up at Amalie as she patted her back. Ah, little one, you need a mother to teach you the ways of a woman. Too soon you’ll be ready to marry and there’s much to learn about runnin’ a home and tendin’ a husband. She touched her hair. As though I’d know more than hearsay, about that.

  ****

  Garth entered the nursery to find it empty. He went to Amalie’s room. “Gerty, do ye ken where my girls are?”

  “Aye, sir, in the kitchen.”

  “The kitchen?” He smiled.

  “Millie’s teachin’ ’em about bread today.”

  “Ta.” He turned to take the back stairs down. He tread softly, listening to the conversation below. When he stepped out of the doorway, those who saw him hesitated. An audible gasp went up at the sight of Himself in the kitchen during cooking hours.