* * *
She stood, dazed for a moment, then shook herself back to reality and forced herself to think about what to do next. She would be in Auchterlinn by nightfall, she reckoned, and she had a few friends there. The baker and his wife, Dougie and Jeannie McInnes, had taken her to their hearts the first time they had met her as soon as they found out that she was a Lowlander who had been born only a few miles from Jeannie’s own birthplace in Ayr. It would be wonderful if they offered her a bed, but she would be prepared to sleep anywhere—in the bakery, the stable, or the garden shed—as long as there was a little bit of warmth.
Fortunately Mrs Kerr had given her some bannocks, cheese, and an apple, so she had enough to eat for two days if she was careful, she reckoned. She could cope as long as she had food, and she might be able to get a ride with a farmer’s cart here and there to speed up her journey. A horse was always faster than a person, even if it was walking. Fortunately, her legs were used to walking and climbing due to the nature of her job, so they were not unduly sore when she reached the village.
She was hoping that her friends would give her a meal. However, she had carefully hoarded some of what she had in case they did not. When she got to the entrance to the small shop, she stood still for a moment, suddenly fearful, and then she took a deep breath and went in.
The little room had the usual delicious aroma of baking bread, and was comfortably warm after the chill of the cold outside. As Crissy looked around at the sacks of flour and milk churns on the floor, and pats of butter on the shelves, she realized that she was starving.
Presently Jeannie came out from the bakery itself, wiping her floury hands on her apron. She was not the usual image of a baker’s wife, which to Crissy’s mind was a small, fat, comfortable woman. She was as tall as Crissy herself and her figure was pleasantly rounded without being plump. Her dark hair, graying now, had once been a lustrous black, and she had the brightest blue eyes Crissy had ever seen.
She squealed with delight when she saw Crissy. “Oh, my pet, it has been an age! Where have ye been?” She hugged her tightly then put her away a little to look into her eyes.
“Working,” she replied, smiling. “I thought about ye often, but havenae had the chance tae visit.”
“They drive ye too hard at that place,” Jeannie shook her head and frowned, then brightened up. “Come have a wee sit doon an’ tell me a’ yer news.” She poured them both a tankard of ale, then fetched some oatcakes and cheese and sat down beside her at the table.
Then she noticed the bag and the blankets. “Where are ye goin’ lovie?” She asked worriedly. “Ye’re no leavin’ us, are ye?” She put her hand over Crissy’s, who smiled at her sadly.
“I have to,” she replied, and her voice was husky with unshed tears. She gripped Jeannie’s hand and looked up into the blue eyes, wondering whether she could tell her the truth or not. Jeannie had always been a good friend and they had always confided in each other, so she decided to take the chance.
“Jeannie, whit I say must ne’er leave this room,” Crissy said earnestly.
Jeannie crossed herself. “I swear on the blood o’ Christ that it willnae,” she replied. “Noo tell me, for I am that worried.”
Crissy began slowly, telling Jeannie how she and Lewis had first got together, then went on to tell her how their relationship had blossomed into love.
“We bumped intae each other an’ spilled a’ the milk fae the bucket I wis holdin’.” She closed her eyes and laughed at the memory. “He said sorry an’ got me a ne work dress—weel, no’ a new ane but serviceable so it widnae look oot o’ place.” She shrugged. “When I tried it against mysel’ he kissed me, gentle like, for he is aye gentle. I had never felt sae wonderful, Jeannie.”
“Whit happened then?” Jeannie asked, enthralled.
“He put his hauns roon my face like this,” she reached out and cupped Jeannie’s face in her hands, “an’ he said, ‘I love you, Crissy Munro, with all my heart.’” They laughed at Crissy’s imitation of Lewis’s deep baritone voice.
“An’whit did you say?” Jeannie asked, her voice eager and impatient.
“I said that I loved him mair than anybody else in the whole world,” she sighed, “an’ he said he wished that he could make me his—and ye knaw whit that means!”
Jeannie laughed. “Aye, bairns an’ disgrace!” Then she frowned. “I hope ye said naw?”
Crissy looked at her friend in amazement. “‘Course I said naw!” she replied indignantly. “I’m in love, no’ an eejit!”
Jeannie stood up and put her hand on Crissy’s shoulder. “Love makes eejits oot o’ us a’ hen!” she warned. “Will I make up a bed for ye, lass?”
Crissy sighed with relief. “I didnae want tae ask ye,” she said.
Jeannie flapped her hand at her. “Dinnae be sae daft, hen. Ye’re aye welcome here.”
Crissy began to clear up the dishes, then went into the kitchen to wash them. It was second nature to her to do this, since she had been a servant all her life. What would it feel like to be a laird’s wife? she thought. An’ be called “Lady Crissy” an’ no have tae dae yer ain washin’, light yer ain fires, an’ cook yer ain food. Well, I will ne’er knaw. It had only ever been a dream.
Dougie came in not long after that, and was as delighted to see Crissy as Jeannie had been. They were an ill-assorted couple; he was four inches shorter than she was and had thinning red hair, a round belly, and short legs. However, he also had a happy disposition and was always smiling, and despite appearances, they were very much in love. They had never been blessed with children, but they had accepted it as their lot and simply made the most of their life. Crissy envied them.
Jeannie set down a plate of roast mutton, turnips, and bannocks before each of them and said grace, then they all tucked in with vigor till their plates were empty. There was no conversation; dinner was a serious business at the end of a busy day!
When they sat down by the fireside, Dougie began to ask her about her job at the castle.
“I have just left, Dougie,” she replied regretfully. “I hae family tae see to an’ I doubt the laird will take me back. Nae doot there are many maids queuin’ at the door already.”
Dougie sighed. “Aye, the rich folks dinnae care aboot you an’ me, lass.” He smiled at her sadly. “Where d’ye come fae again?”
“Largs,” she replied. “Where they fought the battle a hundred years ago against thae horrible Norsemen.”
“So ye dinnae like the castle ony mair?” He was looking at her with a degree of suspicion, or so it seemed to Crissy, but then perhaps she was imagining that everyone knew her secret.
“It’s a family thing, Dougie,” Jeannie’s voice was firm. “An’ nane o’ oor business.” She had brought out a flask of whisky and poured each of them a small measure.
Crissy had always found whisky too strong for her but now its fiery heat was welcome. The three friends sat around the hearth for a while discussing village affairs, and encouraging Crissy to bring them up to date with the goings-on at the castle.
After a second glass of whisky, Crissy began to feel very sleepy. Jeannie took her to her bed, and she flopped down on the straw mattress with a profound sigh of relief. She did not have the energy to say ‘goodnight’ before she fell into a deep sleep. Jeannie watched her for a while, and then went back to her husband.
“There’s somethin’ that lassie’s no tellin’ us,” he said, frowning.
Jeannie sighed. “Whatever it is—if it is anythin’ at a’—it is no’ oor business! Come tae bed an’ I’ll gie ye somethin’ else tae think aboot!”
* * *
*There is still a monument in Largs commemorating the Battle of Largs in 1263 and a Vikingar festival every year.
10
Missing Crissy
After the interview with his father, Lewis felt a strange sense of freedom. He had got what he wanted; no lairdship, no responsibilities, no one to answer to, and best of all—he still had Crissy. H
e would no longer be living in a castle with God knows how many people to supervise, but a comfortable cottage with the woman he loved. He would no longer be rich, but he had saved a fair amount of money and reckoned that the earnings from the farm on which they would live would give them a comfortable enough income.
He was jubilant. He felt like going to the top of the turrets and singing, but he settled for laughing out loud instead, earning himself some strange looks from the housemaids and the guard outside his father’s bedroom. Yet how could a man who had just lost a castle full of material possessions and brought down the wrath of his father on his head be joyful? Because of the woman he loved, of course!
I have to find her and tell her the news, he thought. Now she has no excuse not to marry me!
He imagined her jumping into his arms, throwing her head back, and laughing in sheer abandon, careless of what anyone thought of her. He could put his arm around her in front of the servants, his parents, their guests, and visitors—at least until he left the castle, which would be soon. He could even install her in his bedroom, but he knew that she would dismiss that notion straight away.
My Crissy, he thought, smiling. Always so proper. Well, there is an answer to that. We will be married as soon as we can.
He leapt down the staircase and arrived in the entrance hall, singing at the top of his voice and ignoring the stares of amazement coming from every direction. He clattered down the steps to the kitchen and burst through the doors, smiling from ear to ear.
All conversation stopped and everyone jumped to their feet, then the men bowed, the women curtsied, and they all wondered if the young laird had gone mad.
“Good morning!” he cried, spreading his arms out like a crucifix. “Is it not a wonderful day?”
Outside, the sky was gray with thick clouds that promised rain. Everyone noticed that the young laird was behaving distinctly oddly and deduced that he had already paid a visit to the whisky bottle that morning, or else was still drunk from the ceilidh.
Presently Lewis seemed to come to his senses. “I am looking for Crissy,” he said, smiling benevolently at everyone. “I need to ask her something.”
There was a murmur of consternation around the room. “M’laird,” said the cook, “naebody has seen her.”
Lewis frowned. “Can you fetch the housekeeper for me?” His voice had resumed its normal pitch and suddenly he looked rather grim.
Mrs Kerr came in and curtsied, then looked up at him inquiringly. “M’laird? How can I help you?”
“I am looking for Crissy Munro,” he growled. “Do you know where she is?” Every muscle in his body was tense as he waited for her answer.
Mrs Kerr nodded. “Aye, I dae, M’laird, but—” she stumbled over the next word. “Is...is she in trouble?” She looked at Lewis anxiously, wringing her hands.
Lewis breathed out, suddenly realizing how alarming he looked, a tall powerful man standing over a little helpless woman. All the men in the room were ready to spring at him if he laid a hand on her, laird or not.
He laughed softly. “I do not want to harm her, Mrs Kerr,” he replied, “so be at ease. I love her. I love her with all my heart, and I want to find her so that I can take her straight to church and marry her.”
She looked at him in disbelief. A laird marrying a housemaid? She had never heard of this before!
“M’laird, she has gone,” she replied. “She told me this mornin’ that she had a message aboot a family emergency an’ she had tae go tae the Lowlands. I paid her whit she was owed an’ she left.”
“She comes from Largs, is that not right?” he asked her, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Aye, M’laird.” She nodded. “She told me she had tae ask the laird for permission tae go, so he was likely the last yin tae see her. Maybe ye should ask him.”
“I will, Mrs Kerr. Thank you.” He felt murderously angry, and it showed in the thunderous expression on his face and the threatening rumble of his voice. Mrs Kerr took a step back, frightened.
He left, sprinting up the stairs, and leaving a bemused staff behind him. This would provide plenty of gossip fodder for weeks!
By the time Lewis got to his father’s office again, he was furious. The laird jumped as his door opened with a crash, rattling all the glass in the room, and his son came in, bent over his desk, and hauled him forward by the front of his shirt so that their faces were an inch apart; and Lewis’s was crimson with rage.
“What did you say to Crissy?” he growled. “Where has she gone?”
“As far away from here as possible, I hope!” David snapped. “Because if she sets foot here again she will be imprisoned in the darkest, deepest level of our dungeon, and if you try to get her out you will be in there with her. I wanted her out of here; I thought she might be with child, so I even offered her gold if she would go, but she refused it. As far as I know she collected her pay and departed.”
“She is still a virgin,” Lewis growled. “We have never lain together, but that was my doing; Crissy is a woman of high moral standards. When did she leave?”
“Just after sunrise,” David replied. His voice was careless and unconcerned. “She has been gone half the morning, son. Is it worth pursuing her? There are plenty of lovely young women of your own class around here; marry one of your own. This is a boyish infatuation.”
Lewis clenched his hands into fists. “Say that one more time and I will not be responsible for my actions, Father.” His voice was like ground glass underfoot. “I know how Crissy left. I know you forced her, and if she comes to any harm it will be your fault, Laird Crawford, and you will no longer be my father! THAT is how much I love her!”
He turned on his heel and wrenched the door open, leaving his father staring after him. When David looked down at his hands, they were shaking with fear.
Lewis decided to go to Crissy’s bedroom to see if she had left anything behind that could give him a clue to where she had gone.
He had no idea where it was, only that it was in the basement somewhere near the kitchen, so Mrs Kerr directed him. There was a narrow corridor with doors on one side of it, and as he advanced the passage became darker and darker. They were both carrying a candle, but the darkness was like a living thing, molding itself around them so that the candles were of little use. When they finally arrived at Crissy’s room Lewis was shocked. His Crissy, the only woman he ever loved, had to live like this.
The room was very small, with just enough room for three straw mattresses, a little cabinet with three drawers, a small table, and a chair. There was a slop bucket and a wash stand, and the only light came from a tiny window the size of a brick high up in the wall. Lewis was disgusted that people should have to live like this, and promised himself that if he ever had staff who lived in the house, they should never have to live like this.
He searched the whole room—under the mattresses, between the blankets, and finally in the little chest of drawers. There were so few possessions that it took very little time at all.
Two of the drawers had some old clothes in them, much worn and mended, but one was completely empty apart from a little slip of paper. Paper was a precious commodity, but Lewis had given Crissy a few leaves to practice her writing on. There was some lettering on both of them. One said: “Lady Crissy Crawford.” The other said: “Laird Lewis Crawford.”
The handwriting was like a child’s, but then she had still been learning how to form letters even though she had hardly any time and was constantly tired. They were so endearing, these little letters, and it was so like her to keep on struggling when things were difficult. He smiled at them, kissed each one, folded them carefully, and put them in his sporran.
He decided to enlist Ewan’s help, but in the meantime he decided to search the pine forests around the castle by himself. He hastily scribbled a note to his friend.
“Ewan, Crissy has disappeared and I need your help. Please bring six of your best men with you, Lewis.”
He instructed the ca
ptain of the guard to put together a search party to be ready when Ewan’s men came, then he saddled Angus and once more thundered out of the courtyard and over the moat, heading for the Aberdeen Road.
When Ewan got Lewis’s note, he frowned. Trust Lewis to ask me to drop everything at a moment’s notice to do him a favor! he thought ruefully. Ewan did not live in a castle, and had only a few guards, so he brought his best rider and two of his brawniest servants with him. He dispatched messengers to some of the young men that they jousted with but was unsure whether they would get to Lewis’s castle on time. However, three of the strongest men arrived, then they mounted their horses and in less than an hour they were at Crawford Castle.
Lewis was in a desperate panic. He could not search every path in the forest, so he took the broadest and shortest one. Even so, he knew that there were innumerable places where she could hide. He called her name over and over again, but either she could not or did not want to answer, or she was not there. Little did he know that she was crouching in the undergrowth not ten yards away from him, dressed in a brown cloak that camouflaged her almost completely. After a while, defeated, he wheeled Angus around and went back to the castle.
11
A Bad Deal
By her own standards, Crissy left early that morning. However, the two bakers had already been up since before sunrise making bread for the village, and they had prepared her a basket of food to take with her.
Both women wept as Crissy left. “I will remember,” Jeannie whispered in her ear. “No’ a word! Godspeed, hen!”
“Thank ye, Jeannie, Dougie,” Crissy said as she kissed both of them, and then she turned and left without looking back.
Seduced by the Noble Highlander Page 6
