“And he took the money. There is no sign of it.”
“Of course he took the money. He’s a crook.”
Billy’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Now how will we get your sacrifice and save the lasses? And I willna be able to fly through the air like the birds.”
CHAPTER 43
We’re leaving? Right this second? Chloe wanted to slam the door in Agnes’ face. But when Kaitlyn picked up the viola and prepared to leave, Chloe restrained her panicked impulse to be rude and left the door open. She followed Kaitlyn’s lead by scooping up the cello.
Trailing after Agnes, they went outside to the waiting wagon. Chloe tried to walk slowly so she could ask Kaitlyn what they should do, but Agnes kept slowing to wait for them. She was talking about how excited she was to have the girls play their music for her family back at her home. She wasn’t ruffled at all by the sudden night departure.
At the wagon, Agnes was helped in first, and then an attendant took the girls’ instruments.
As soon as Kaitlyn’s hands were empty, she said in a rush, “I have to do something. I’ll be right back.” She skipped off toward the prison building using the trotting gait she’d perfected in her close-hemmed skirt.
She toddled past the door, through the main room, and didn’t stop until she waddled down the stairs and landed in front of Pan’s cell.
“Cello and I are leaving now. They’re taking us to Agnes’ castl—”
“You canna be here,” yelled a guard running down the steps. “There is a proper procedure!”
“You have to come find us there. You have to get us back to Cello’s house and save her family from the fire.”
“She is causing no harm,” Pan said in a lazy voice. “She just wishes to say goodbye.” He shifted close to the bars. “Do not worry, dear. I will see you soon. And then we will see Denver. You have my word.”
“Okay. Don’t take too long,” Kaitlyn said over her shoulder as she trotted back toward the stairs. “We’ll be waiting.” She smiled at the distraught guard. “I’m done. No worries.”
She trotted back to the wagon and jumped into the compartment, right past the footman, who stared at her like she’d made some horrible mistake in protocol.
“I had to tell Pan goodbye,” she said out of breath as she plopped down on the bench next to Cello. “I didn’t want him to wonder where we’d gone.”
“Very well, then. Shall we be off? That is, if you are not going to suddenly run away again,” Agnes said.
“Oh, no. I’m done now. Thank you, though,” Kaitlyn said.
The wagon set off, and Kaitlyn took Cello’s hand and gave her a squeeze to reassure her it would all be okay.
They didn’t get to Agnes’ castle until the darkest, stillest time of night.
“Are we there?” Kaitlyn asked when the wagon took a sharp turn and lurched up a steep incline.
Agnes looked out the window past Chloe. “Aye, there is my home.”
“I can’t see anything. Is it a big castle?”
“ ’Tis the most defensible citadel in all of Scotland. It is a wondrous sight in the light of day. For now, the wagon will take us as close to the entrance as possible, then we must enter on foot, for there are many stairs to traverse to reach the summit. Come, the wagon has stopped.”
The door opened and a footman helped them each down.
After Agnes, Chloe stepped down into the ring of light cast by lanterns on the wagon. Several guards stood around them carrying torches that lit the area. One torch bearer led the way, and the three women, with Agnes at the front, followed him.
After many steps, they went through a narrow passageway with close, stone walls surrounding them. They passed through the first gate and a guard called out, “Open the portcullis.” They waited while a giant iron lattice gate was lifted. They proceeded through several more gates, beneath stone archways, up and down steps—many more up than down—ever working toward reaching the top. Kaitlyn flitted up the steps, using her perfected trot to negotiate the steps. When they finally reached the end of the long, winding entrance, Chloe was breathing heavily, ready to stop.
Three servants, aroused from sleep, greeted them when they emerged onto the plateau.
“Are my parents sleeping?” Agnes said.
“A course they are. ’Tis the middle of the nigh’,” said one of the old servant women. “Only mischief and trouble are aboot this time o’ darkness.” Agnes tilted her cheek to receive a kiss from her. “ ’Tis good to see yeh again, though.”
“I am glad to see you, Tilda. I have missed you.”
“Are yeh hungry? I can ge’ yeh something.” The hard lines of her face softened and it was clear she was fond of Agnes.
“Nay, we just need to get abed. We will catch up on news in the morning. These are two friends who play beautiful music. I want Mum and Da to hear them. They need a bed for now.”
Tilda kept a straight face when she looked at their clothes, though clearly she had to work to do so. The servants collected the belongings that the footmen brought up from the wagon. They worked out the details of the accommodations for Chloe and Kaitlyn, and Tilda told them to follow her.
“I will come fetch you after we sleep. Relax and stay abed until then. It will be good for you,” Agnes called after them as Tilda led them away.
Their room was small but the bed was wide and tall. The heavy brocade curtain around it sealed them into pitch blackness. Chloe and Kaitlyn settled into the soft mattress and were asleep in seconds.
***
When she woke up, Kaitlyn stretched—or tried to but without much success because of her sleeves—and yawned. Can it still be nighttime? It’s so dark. Cello was asleep next to her, but she was invisible in the dark. Her breathing was even and raspy. Almost snoring. The sounds outside the bed curtains sounded like it couldn’t be the middle of the night anymore. Muffled voices from people talking in another room down the hall or in the room below them came through the wall or floor. A poor cow mooed way out in a yard somewhere and some dogs were complaining about being tied up. The smell of roasting meat somehow got through the thick bed curtains. The stink made her gag. People eat so many animals here.
She scratched an itch on her elbow, moving in slow motion to keep from waking Cello, who was so tired from worrying about her family. I want her to stay asleep and worry-free as long as possible. It was hard to scratch away the prickle through the thick fabric. She hadn’t had the dress off since Horace put it on her. Horace sure could make amazing clothes. It didn’t get dirty, wet, or smelly. And the colors were so nice and bright.
Kaitlyn folded her covers back and slipped off the bed and through the curtains as quietly as she could. The room was bright with sunshine that made the orange and aqua blue polka dots on her dress almost glow. The spots were varied in size, from nickels to coasters. At least one hundred tiny little buttons, alternating in blue and orange, went down the center. Well, almost the center. They swerved now and then like the seamstress’s glucose had dropped too low. The neckline was high, but it was lower in back. Cello said Horace had put it on her backwards. But the pockets were on the front, though they were hard to use because her sleeves held her arms down. With the puffy tops, she had some room to move, but not enough to lift her elbows to get her hands into the pockets. She could get her phone in and out, until Pan took it from her, so they had worked for something. The purple cape that hung down in back was nice. It danced and swirled around when she walked, especially outside in the wind.
Maybe the dress had kept her clean and smell-free while she wore it, but now her scalp itched. Cello still sometimes found a stray feather in her big, puffy hairdo. And her nest needed some freshening up. Its twigs were getting loose. She hoped to wash her hair but wasn’t sure how she would do it without bothering the nest. If the birds come back, they’ll need a place to stay.
She tiptoed out into the hallway without a sound. The door closed silently, not a pop or squeak. Good. Cello can keep sleeping while I go
find the shower. The stairs at the end of the hall looked pretty, spiraling around a middle post. She waddled down the steps, enjoying how they circled down. At the bottom, off to the side, was a room where two women were cooking. When Kaitlyn entered, they stopped talking midsentence and looked at her like her hair birds were already back.
“Hi,” Kaitlyn said.
They looked at each other then back to Kaitlyn. One said, “Good morning, m’lady. Thar is food in the hall, if yur hungry.”
The other said, “Unless yur unhappy with wot is thar. Did yeh need somethin’ else?”
“Do you have a shower?”
The two looked back at each other.
“A wot?” one asked.
“I need to wash my hair. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Yeh want to wash?” the other said.
“A bath? Is that wot yeh are looking for?”
“I guess a bath would be fine. I just really want to wash my hair.”
“Today?” The woman’s face looked like the idea was ridiculous.
“Is this…not a good day for it?” Kaitlyn asked.
“ ’Tis only September. No one bathes in September.”
The other woman elbowed her and scowled. “If yeh want to bathe, of course yeh can bathe.” From beneath a counter she pulled out a gigantic metal pot. It looked like a horse trough. After she removed a bunch of smaller pots from it, the woman dragged it over to the hearth, banging it and scraping it as she went. “We will get it filled for yeh.”
Kaitlyn sat on a stool and watched the two women fill pots with water and put them on the fire. They dumped three that were already hot on the fire into the trough to make room for more water to be put on to heat.
“I can help you bring in water,” Kaitlyn said. “I didn’t mean to make work for anyone.”
One woman snorted.
The other looked a little put out. Kaitlyn decided to stay on the stool, hoping to keep out of their way. In between dumping more buckets into the trough, the women chopped up food. Kaitlyn had to look out the window and focus on a distant building because the poor animal their knives were pulverizing made her throat tighten.
She gagged a couple of times before the animal and all its parts disappeared into another pot. It was a good thing they were fast workers. The relief was huge when she couldn’t see the flesh on the counter any more, and a deep sigh of relief popped out before she could stop it.
The women both looked at her with their eyebrows raised. Kaitlyn just smiled back, glad she hadn’t thrown up all over their kitchen.
“Yeh can get in now if yeh want,” one said, and hauled another bucket of water off the fire. She poured it in then dropped the bucket and wiped her hands across her tan apron. Finger smears of blood streaked across the apron. Kaitlyn gagged again and threw her hand to her mouth, afraid she might throw up after all.
The women pretended not to notice her retching. “Do yeh want me to help yeh off with yur dress, milady?” the other woman asked as she eyed her dress more closely. She smirked. “That is quite a gown yeh got thar. Is that from France?”
“I don’t know how to get it off,” Kaitlyn said.
“Where is yur chambermaid, then? I can fetch her, or help yeh meself.”
“I mean, I don’t think it comes off. I haven’t figured out how to get it off. That’s okay. I mostly want to wash my hair.”
The women looked at her confused, like that Babel Curse had turned back on.
“Do you have any shampoo? So I can wash my hair?” She couldn’t help it but she talked louder like they were hard of hearing. She probably slowed down a little too, though she didn’t mean to.
“Any wot?”
“Um, hair soap?” Kaitlyn said. “Or even regular soap?”
They both shook their heads at the same time.
“Never mind. This is fine. Thank you.” The whole thing now seemed like a dumb idea. Pan should be coming soon anyway and they’d go home. She felt bad for putting the women to so much trouble. She didn’t want to wash her hair anymore. Not without her apricot and mango shampoo.
The women stood near her looking uncomfortable and confused about what they should do.
“Can we help?” one asked.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Kaitlyn said.
“I need to check the chickens,” one said. And she disappeared. The other more helpful one shrugged and followed her out.
Kaitlyn was glad they left. It was hard to avoid seeing the stained apron. Neither seemed to be able to track with her.
She kneeled down next to the trough and tried to bend over it. But her sleeves didn’t let her lift her arms high enough to reach her head. She tried several positions, bending and stooping everyway possible. This isn’t working. The only way to get her head wet would be to get in and sink down into the water.
Getting into the tub took plenty of patience and time because the dress didn’t let her ankles move apart. Teetering on the edge, she lifted both legs and swung them over into the big pot—and she actually did it without falling out or in.
The water was only lukewarm, but it was better than cold. She lowered herself in, gown and all. She pulled her knees up and scooted down to get her hair close to the water.
As soon as the dress was immersed, it let loose. It dissolved and disappeared, leaving only suds in her tub water. She lifted her hands above her head and squealed. Her shoulders had never been happier. She sunk beneath the surface and dunked her hair. As soon as the giant puff was soaked, it melted into her normal hair. The nest even dissolved and disappeared.
She scrubbed her scalp and it felt so good. When she sat up out of the water, she could smell sweet blossoms coming from her hair. Whatever Horace had used, with a little water added, it turned into bubbles that left it better even than her apricots and mangos did.
“There you are.” Cello came through the doorway, yawning and trying to scratch her back. “How’d you get that thing off?” She pulled on her own dress, which was just as stuck as Kaitlyn’s had been.
“The water. It just melted. It feels great! Look.” She lifted her arms high and waved them.
“You look liked yourself again. Your hair is back to normal. No more nest,” Cello said and laughed. “Do you need a towel?” She turned and looked for something to use. “Will this work?” She pulled a tablecloth from under a counter.
Kaitlyn got out and wrapped the large cloth around her, dripping all over the floor and feeling like a new person.
“My turn,” Cello said, and she jumped in and sat down, lowering her neon purple and green striped skirt into the water. Nothing happened.
“You have to go all the way under I think.”
As soon as Cello was up to her neck in water, her dress melted, too. “I wish they’d come with instructions. I would have done this a long time ago.”
“Put your head under water. Your hair will turn back.”
Cello did what Kaitlyn said and her big hair melted into her normal hair. She splashed up from under the water. “The spell is broken!” she yelled. “Hallelujah.” She rubbed her scalp and went back under a couple of times. She popped up with another whooping cheer, splashing water everywhere.
“Can you get another one of those tablecloths so I can dry off?” she asked Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn pulled another out and held it up for Cello.
Chloe was draping her new covering around, wondering what she might use on her dripping hair, when one of the cooks returned with a basket of eggs.
“All done then?” she said.
“Do you have a towel for my hair?” Chloe said.
“Sorry we made such a mess,” Kaitlyn said. “We spilled some water.”
The woman pulled a towel from a cupboard. “Dinna fash. I will tend it. Yeh go on now.”
They did as instructed and returned to their room. When they’d been there only moments, Agnes knocked on the still-open door and peeked in. She started to say something but stopped.
“Why are you both wearing Mum’s t
able coverings? What happened to your gowns?”
“They’re gone,” Kaitlyn said. “They weren’t very comfortable.”
“We’d had them on for so long. We needed to freshen up.”
Agnes creased her forehead. “What do you mean they are gone? I was getting used to them. What will you wear then?”
“We hadn’t thought that far,” Kaitlyn admitted. “My shoulders were so unhappy. I had no choice.”
“Can we borrow something?” Chloe said.
Agnes inspected them, first Chloe and then Kaitlyn. “You are so much smaller than I thought,” she said to Kaitlyn. “Without your high hair and those swollen sleeves, you are just a wisp of a lass. I might have trouble keeping one of my own gowns from falling off you, but Tilda or Mum might have something. I have one that should work for you, Chloe. I canna have you playing music for Mum and Da wearing Mum’s table coverings.”
Agnes left and returned with three gowns for them. They were plain and simple. They were wonderful. One was small enough for Kaitlyn and Chloe fit both of the others but picked the plainest brown one. No one would stare at her in it. She was ready to blend in. Kaitlyn pulled her hair back after it was dry into her usual ponytail and tied it with a ribbon. Chloe’s was drying into soft brown ringlets. She didn’t mind not having her flat iron and letting it curl after having the cotton candy hair for so long.
“On the morrow, we will go to town and find cloth to make a gown for each of you that fits. But for the evening, these will work fine. Tonight for supper, I promised your music to everyone. I look forward to it.”
At the appointed hour, the girls went to the great room with their instruments. The room looked like a mountain lodge, with beamed ceilings, stone walls, and large hearth.
While everyone ate, Chloe and Kaitlyn played their music. Agnes bounced in her chair and clapped when each song started and after each finished. Her parents, sitting next to her, weren’t as excited as Agnes, but they turned polite smiles toward Chloe and Kaitlyn every time Agnes reminded them the girls were playing.
Chloe's Guardian Page 29
