by Bess McBride
“I’ll be fine! I’m much more worried about your health.” I slipped out from under the covers and reached for his pain medication. “Here, take these. I’ll give you your antibiotic after you’ve eaten breakfast.”
“Ye said ye were worried for my health, that ye were terrified. Am I dying then?” James asked, his dark brows knit into a frown.
“No, I don’t think so. I mean...I thought so last night, but you seem better today.”
“Good,” he said with a sweet smile. “Ye have gone to so much trouble for me. I wish yer efforts to prove fruitful.”
I smiled at him.
“I’m going to go wake Bracken and ask him to bring you something to eat, then I’m going to my room to wash up and change.”
“And rest,” James added.
“Probably not,” I said with a quick smile.
I opened the door and found the corridor empty. As I shut the door behind me, Bracken appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a tray of the usual broth. Robbie ran past him and up to the door of James’ room.
“Good morning, Bracken. I’m just going to my room to wash up and change. The laird is awake.”
“Aye, mistress. My missus asked me to remind ye that the girl is in the stables now and can take her medicine anytime.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’ll run down and see her when I’m dressed. Thank you, Bracken. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Bracken nodded and entered James’ room. I returned to my room, used the facility, washed up and dressed in the second of Beth’s loaner dresses in a lovely shade of forest green.
I went downstairs to the kitchen to grab something to eat before heading out to the stables.
“The girl is just outside on the kitchen steps, having her porridge,” Mrs. Bracken said in a gruff voice. Apparently, she still hadn’t forgiven Morna for bringing typhoid into the house.
“Oh, okay,” I said. I pulled the bottle from my bodice and withdrew a pill. Opening the door, I handed the medicine to Morna.
“Good morning, mistress,” she said, taking the pill with a chipped mug of tea. “How long will I have to take this medicine?”
“Two weeks from when we started,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine, mistress. Felt fine when I started the medicine.” She returned to her porridge.
I nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
I left her eating and returned to the kitchen.
“The girl will see to her own plate, spoon and cup,” Mrs. Bracken said. “I will boil the lot when she is better...or throw them away. They are cracked and auld.”
I nodded. “Good idea.”
I sat down to my own porridge...in a finer bowl than Morna’s, and I watched the plump cook as she bustled around the kitchen.
“When do ye think the master will want to eat something more stout than broth?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Pretty soon, I hope. I don’t want to push him too soon. Typhoid fever is very hard on the stomach and the intestines.”
“Aye, that’s all right then,” Mrs. Bracken said. “I ken that is true enough.”
I ate in silence after that, drank down some tea and hurried back upstairs to see James. I heard a raspy voice coming from the partially opened door.
“I demand some decent porridge, Bracken. I canna tolerate another swallow of this swill!”
“Now, master, ye ken Mrs. Bracken’s broth is quite good. Mistress Scott has given instructions ye are to continue the broth until she says otherwise.”
I pushed open the door, strode in and came to Bracken’s rescue.
“Yes, that’s right,” I said imperiously. “You’re lucky that you’re getting bread. I’ve had Mrs. Bracken’s broth. It’s very good, as a matter of fact.”
James, holding a bowl of the maligned broth, drew in a deep breath and sighed.
“But how much longer must I drink this? I want something stouter to eat. I am hungry, lass! I willna get better if I canna eat something to give me strength!”
I almost smiled at the petulance in James’ voice.
“Yes, you will. The broth has plenty of nutrients and liquids. You need to let your stomach settle...and your intestines.”
James eyed the bowl with an expression of discontent.
“My gut, ye mean,” he mumbled.
“Aye, yer gut,” I teased. “I’m no doctor, as you know, but I do have a lot of common sense. If you have no more stomach or intestinal pain between now and tomorrow morning, I think we could try some porridge.”
“Porridge, aye,” James said. “It isna much to ask for.” His lips folded into an uncharacteristic pout.
I did smile at that.
“No, it isn’t,” I said kindly. “You do have some bread to eat with your broth, don’t you?” I eyed a small piece of brown bread sitting on a plate by the bed.
“Aye, I must count myself fortunate to have that, I suppose. The same fare as prisoners, I dinna doubt. Broth and a bit of bread.”
I sat down in the chair beside his bed, noting that at some point, Bracken had slipped out of the room.
“Oh, come now. It’s not that bad. It really is for your own good, James. I’m not doing this to be cruel.”
“I ken, lass,” James said on another sigh. “I ken I am being childish.”
“It’s hard to be sick, James. I know it.”
He looked at me, the knot in his forehead relaxing.
“Aye, I suppose ye do, Maggie. Forgive me for bawling.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, James. I understand how you feel.”
A knock on the door caught our attention, and the door opened. Bracken peeked in.
“The soldiers have returned, Mistress Scott, and they are asking to see ye and Morna. Dr. MacDougall accompanies them.”
I stiffened and threw a frightened look toward James. He slammed his bowl down on the table and pushed the covers aside as if he was going to get out of bed. I jumped up and stayed him.
“No, James, you can’t go out there. First off, you’re probably still contagious. You don’t want to infect anyone. And you’re too weak.”
“Nay, master, the mistress is right. I dinna ken about contagious, but ye are too weak.”
“I can handle this,” I said, my heart racing. I didn’t actually think I could, but what could I say?
“It would serve them right if I were to infect them all,” James ground out. His bedraggled and unkempt hair hung over his face as he sat on the edge of the bed. He swayed, and I pushed him back onto the bed and lifted his legs.
“What do they want, Bracken?”
“They didna say.”
“It is about the medicine,” James said with a deep frown. “I could wish Colin was here to talk to them.”
“I can do this, James. But we can’t let them talk to Morna. Can you keep her in the stables, Bracken? We can say she has typhoid fever and can’t see anyone.”
“The doctor may want to see her, Maggie. He willna be deterred by threats of typhoid.”
I chewed on my lip.
“What if I just tell Captain Thompson the truth? He seems like such a reasonable man.”
“Nay!” James barked, throwing a look toward Bracken. “Ye must be careful, Maggie.”
I looked toward Bracken, almost surprised that he didn’t know about me by now.
“Dinna speak openly with the captain.” James threw his legs over the edge of the bed again. “Nay, I must go down.”
And this time, I couldn’t push him back. With surprising strength for a debilitated man, he pushed himself upright, although he wobbled.
“My robe, Bracken,” he said.
Bracken rushed over to grab a dark-blue robe from a wardrobe, and James slipped into it. Bracken helped him step into a pair of shoes, and James straightened. He swayed slightly. Robbie came out from under the bed, ready for an adventure, poor dog.
“You’re too sick to do this, James. Do you want to relapse like you did last nigh
t?”
“Nay, but do this I must. Give me yer shoulders, the pair of ye,” he said. And for the next ten minutes, Bracken and I half carried a very tall and very weak James down the stairs, with Robbie running back and forth. Bracken opened the door, and James stepped outside, telling the butler to see to Morna. I followed. Bracken retreated into the house, presumably to head for the stables.
Chapter Seventeen
“As ye can see, I have struggled out of my sickbed to attend to ye,” James said in a voice stronger than I had thought possible given the last few days. He had moved out from under my shoulders and stood with his feet braced wide apart to keep his balance. Robbie took up a position at his side.
I eyed the group of men standing on the landing at the top of the stairs. On seeing James, all but Captain Thompson and Dr. MacDougall fled down to the bottom of the steps, with a mixture of gasps and curses.
“Aye, ye had better run,” James almost shouted to the departing mass of red coats. “As the good doctor will tell ye, I have the typhoid fever!”
Even Captain Thompson backed up a step or two, but he didn’t run.
“Laird Anderson, I fear your man may have misunderstood us,” he said. “We asked not for you but for Mistress Scott and the kitchen maid known as Morna. We did not intend to drag you from your bed. Please return to your sickroom.”
James eyed the captain.
“Mistress Scott is my kin, and she is under my protection. If ye wish to speak with her, ye may do so only in my presence.” He turned to Dr. MacDougall, who fidgeted nervously. “And ye, sir, shall never attend me or my household again. What do ye mean by bringing soldiers to my house to question my family and servants?”
“It isna as ye think, yer lairdship,” Dr. MacDougall protested. “It is the soldiers who have brought me here to the castle. Rumor reached them that the young miss here has been giving the lass medicine for typhoid fever. And yerself, for that matter.”
“That is true, Laird Anderson,” Captain Thompson said. “If Mistress Scott indeed has a cure for typhoid fever as has been rumored, then such a find is nothing short of a miracle, and the Crown wishes to know where and how she came about it. I am sent by my commander to investigate. We stopped by the village to talk to the good doctor first.”
Captain Thompson threw me an unhappy, almost sympathetic look.
“Aye, they came to see me, and I assured them that Mistress Scott has no cure for the typhoid, that she gives the girl and yerself naeithin more than a tablet of flour. I reassured them that I investigated the matter myself.”
James did not look at all mollified by the doctor’s answer and turned from him to speak to the captain.
“I can attest to the veracity of that statement. Mistress Scott disna have a cure for typhoid. She told me so herself last night. The pills contain no medicinal properties.”
Captain Thompson sighed heavily.
“The commander bade me bring a sample of the medicine so that his own doctor can examine it. There is some talk of potions and such, but I tried to quell those quite quickly. Highlanders can be a superstitious lot.”
“Potions!” Doctor Dr. MacDougall ran a shaking hand to his neckcloth as if it was too tight. “Och, no!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, raising a hand to my neckline to make sure Morna’s pill bottle didn’t show. “It’s all gone. I only had a few tablets, stuff from the Colonies. You know...” And I acted like they did know.
Captain Thompson stared at me with narrowed eyes. I could see he didn’t believe me, but he wasn’t ready to out me yet either, certainly not to accuse me of being a witch, or whatever these folks did.
“There are no potions in my house, Captain Thompson, except a watery broth that the cook feeds me at Mistress Scott’s insistence. Ye are welcome to check my sickroom if ye wish.” James held his arm wide, daring Captain Thompson to enter the castle.
“I am not saying that I believe Mistress Scott is dabbling in potions, Laird Anderson. But some of the kitchen maid’s kin have been speaking out, enough such that comments finally came to the commander’s ear. You know the Highlands better than I, sir, and you know this kind of talk can only bring harm to Mistress Scott.”
The doctor murmured faintly, and I watched James stare Captain Thompson down.
“Captain, I will protect my cousin from superstitious Highlanders and from the Crown. There are no potions but only harmless tablets that she brought from the Colonies to soothe troubled and fearful souls. Tell yer commander there is naethin here of interest, nae witchcraft, nae a cure for the typhoid.”
“And how is it that you are standing here so fit, Laird Anderson? Were you not felled by the disease only a few days ago?” Captain Thompson’s jaw was just as firm as James’.
“A strong constitution, good broth and the kindly ministrations of my cousin, Captain Thompson,” James replied with hard eyes. I could see sweat break out on James’ forehead, and his skin paled. If I didn’t get him back to bed, he was going to collapse, and then one of the two men in front of us was going to have to carry him inside.
“I think the girl’s family have just been talking nonsense, Captain Thompson,” Dr. MacDougall said. “We dinna need to bandy about such incendiary words as witchcraft and potions. No.” He gave a firm shake of his head.
Captain Thompson seemed not to hear him but eyed James before dropping his gaze to me. He bowed in my direction.
“Mistress Scott, my apologies. I will tell the commander that there is nothing amiss here, certainly not a cure for typhoid fever. If I might have a word with you privately?”
“No!” James barked. “I forbid it!”
I knew James was trying to protect me, but I couldn’t help but take offense at his proprietary tone.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. I led the captain away from James and Dr. MacDougall.
“Yes, what is it?” I asked hastily, keeping an eye on James over the captain’s shoulder. James sagged back to press himself against the wall, and the doctor leaned in to talk to him. Robbie watched me, watched James.
Captain Thompson’s words took me by surprise.
“Mistress Scott, I find myself quite fascinated by you. There is something rather extraordinary about you, but I do not yet know what it is. Nevertheless, you must be more circumspect in your behavior, especially in this doling out of medicines. I do not really believe that you are out of medication or that it is not a treatment for typhoid fever yet undiscovered here in Britain. Laird Anderson’s condition would attest to that.”
I drew in a sharp breath and blinked under his blue gaze.
“However, I am desirous only of protecting you. I do not believe you are a witch. In fact, I do not even believe in witchcraft. But I cannot say the same for the Scots here in the Highlands. Give the girl no more medicine. Send her back to the bosom of her family. Treat his lairdship with discretion, away from the eyes of prying servants.
“And please, please send for me if you need anything at all.” Captain Thompson threw a look over his shoulder toward James, gave me a short bow and walked away.
I stared after him, stunned. I find myself quite fascinated by you. The flush in my cheeks heated up again, and I turned and hurried back to haul James inside.
The doctor bid us good day and said he would stop to see James again in a few days, and he followed Captain Thompson down to the boat, where Duncan awaited them.
Bracken showed up just in time to help me take James back inside. Dragging James upstairs took more than ten minutes, but we finally got him into his room, undressed and into bed.
“What did the captain want, Maggie?” James asked breathlessly.
I leaned over him to check his temperature, which felt elevated. I feared another relapse and brushed the hair away from his forehead before applying the wet cloth to his face.
“Nothing,” I replied. “He says he doesn’t think I’m a witch, but he doesn’t believe that I don’t have pills either. He told me to contact him if I needed
anything.”
James closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
“The captain is besotted with ye. I saw it in his eyes.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, James,” I sputtered. “Really!”
“He would make a fine catch for an eligible young lady,” James murmured, his eyelids drooping. “He looks strong and bonnie, nae sickly like me.”
“Oh, James,” I whispered.
“It is true. I offered ye my hand, my protection, but no woman in her right mind would choose me over a stalwart, healthy man such as Captain Thompson. I wouldna blame ye if ye were to encourage his advances. England is much more civilized than the Highlands, the weather more congenial, its cities more settled, its citizens more enlightened.”
James’ eyes started to close as he began to mumble.
“I wouldna blame ye, that is, if ye chose to stay. But ye may wish to go home. Aye, home. Perhaps that is the safest place for ye.” I had to lean forward to catch James’ last words on a whisper, but I had no chance to respond, because he appeared to have fallen soundly asleep.
I stared at his gaunt face, the sweat-soaked dark curls streaming away from his forehead, the dark stubble around his chin. It was just as well he had fallen asleep. What could I have said? How could I have responded to his idiotic comments?
I was a twenty-first century gal. I didn’t have to stay in the eighteenth century. I didn’t have to find a husband to protect me, to take care of me...because I didn’t have to live in the eighteenth century with its superstitions, lack of women’s rights or lack of anyone’s rights, for that matter. I could go home at any time, and I still fully intended to.
I picked up a dry cloth and gently wiped the sweat from James’ face, an overwhelming sense of affection warming my heart.
Silly man! Wonderful man! The way he’d squared off against the much healthier English captain had taken my breath away. That he had summoned the strength to drag himself downstairs and face down the soldiers on my behalf had moved me deeply.
Sick or well, it appeared as if James really could protect me. I admired him tremendously. And I dabbed at his face again as if he was a child.
I remembered Captain Thompson’s advice to send Morna home, and I rose, whispered for Robbie to follow me and went downstairs. I found Bracken in the kitchen with his wife, both enjoying some tea.
