Thomazine, shift
and all, whisked behind one of those intriguing wooden chests, and pulled her
husband’s cloak tight round her.
“What the hell
d’you mean by this, ye shameless vagabond? Get out and show yourself like a
man, or I swear I’ll – Major Russell!”
He never so much
batted an eyelid. Facing down the barrel of a cocked pistol and an irate
gentleman at the end of it, Thankful put the knife and the smoking bread down,
and gingerly moved the bacon from its perilous placement at the edge of the
flames. “Eadulf, sir, I am delighted to see you taking such an interest in the
house, but really.” He turned full round, pushing his hair out of his eyes with
his un-greasy hand, and because she’d loved him all her life Thomazine could
tell from the set of his shoulders that he was happy. “It is my house,
you know.”
“You never
said!” the irate gentleman said, and the hectic colour was fading from his
cheeks, leaving a mottled flush. “I might have shot you, you great –“
“Scotsmen,”
Thankful said to Thomazine, as if it explained everything, and about all it
explained to her was the accent, like a dog barking. “Eadulf is my bailiff,
tibber. He’s been seeing to the estate in my absence.”
“Aye, since –“
his eyes moved, very slowly, to the shadows, as if he was afraid of what he
might see there. “Who’re you talking to, major?”
“My wife. Who
did you think I was talking to? My sister’s shadow?”
The expression
on the man called Eadulf’s face was a joy to behold. He looked as if someone
had punched him in the belly. “Your wife ?”
“Someone had to
be daft enough to marry me eventually,” Thankful said smugly, and she stood up,
surreptitiously holding the edges of that crumpled cloak together over her
body-linen and grateful that he hadn’t arrived an hour earlier. When he would
have been in no doubt at all that Thomazine and he were man and wife. “I am
delighted to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said sweetly, and curtseyed, so
that the folds of cloak covered her bare feet.
“Mistress
Russell – Eadulf Gillespie. My bailiff. As I said. He lives about a mile up the
valley.”
“You brought
your wife,” he said again, “to this unchancy ruin? Major Russell, that
was no’ well done! Ye should have sent word, sir! I’d have – well, I’d at least
have seen you decently provisioned! When did all this happen, major?”
“We came over
yesterday,” she said, “at dusk. We didn’t intend to stay overnight, but it was
raining, and near dark, and - well, we didn’t. I am sorry, did we inconvenience
you?”
“I might have shot ye, ye daft skite! God a’mighty, Russell, ye’re not twenty-one any more, have
ye not the sense ye were born with? I saw the smoke from out o’ the chimney and
I knew verra well there’d be none come to here after dark for any good purpose,
so I come straight down here to see what was afoot, and – well, here ye are,
safe and sound and intact, thank God, and why the- why did ye not tell me ye
were coming home? Ye didn’t even tell me ye had a - a lass promised, never mind
a wife! And this is no welcome for a gently-born maid, coming to this benighted
pile of rubble!” He glowered, running his free hand through his short, ruffled
hair. “Well. I’ve said my piece, and I’ll say no more. I bid ye welcome to Four
Ashes, mistress. What’s left of it.”
“Oh,” Thomazine
said faintly. “Thank you.”
“I should like
to reassure you that I am not customarily addressed in like fashion by my
staff,” Thankful said, sounding very stiff and shocked, and then the unmarked
corner of his mouth lifted in that dear lopsided grin. “I don’t hardly count
Eadulf as staff, tibber. More in the way of a friend.”
“Friend, aye,
you might call it friendship. More in the way of a keeper, I’d argue.”
“He pulled me
out from under my horse at Dunbar,” her husband explained, and his hand went,
all unconscious, to his
and all, whisked behind one of those intriguing wooden chests, and pulled her
husband’s cloak tight round her.
“What the hell
d’you mean by this, ye shameless vagabond? Get out and show yourself like a
man, or I swear I’ll – Major Russell!”
He never so much
batted an eyelid. Facing down the barrel of a cocked pistol and an irate
gentleman at the end of it, Thankful put the knife and the smoking bread down,
and gingerly moved the bacon from its perilous placement at the edge of the
flames. “Eadulf, sir, I am delighted to see you taking such an interest in the
house, but really.” He turned full round, pushing his hair out of his eyes with
his un-greasy hand, and because she’d loved him all her life Thomazine could
tell from the set of his shoulders that he was happy. “It is my house,
you know.”
“You never
said!” the irate gentleman said, and the hectic colour was fading from his
cheeks, leaving a mottled flush. “I might have shot you, you great –“
“Scotsmen,”
Thankful said to Thomazine, as if it explained everything, and about all it
explained to her was the accent, like a dog barking. “Eadulf is my bailiff,
tibber. He’s been seeing to the estate in my absence.”
“Aye, since –“
his eyes moved, very slowly, to the shadows, as if he was afraid of what he
might see there. “Who’re you talking to, major?”
“My wife. Who
did you think I was talking to? My sister’s shadow?”
The expression
on the man called Eadulf’s face was a joy to behold. He looked as if someone
had punched him in the belly. “Your wife ?”
“Someone had to
be daft enough to marry me eventually,” Thankful said smugly, and she stood up,
surreptitiously holding the edges of that crumpled cloak together over her
body-linen and grateful that he hadn’t arrived an hour earlier. When he would
have been in no doubt at all that Thomazine and he were man and wife. “I am
delighted to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said sweetly, and curtseyed, so
that the folds of cloak covered her bare feet.
“Mistress
Russell – Eadulf Gillespie. My bailiff. As I said. He lives about a mile up the
valley.”
“You brought
your wife,” he said again, “to this unchancy ruin? Major Russell, that
was no’ well done! Ye should have sent word, sir! I’d have – well, I’d at least
have seen you decently provisioned! When did all this happen, major?”
“We came over
yesterday,” she said, “at dusk. We didn’t intend to stay overnight, but it was
raining, and near dark, and - well, we didn’t. I am sorry, did we inconvenience
you?”
“I might have shot ye, ye daft skite! God a’mighty, Russell, ye’re not twenty-one any more, have
ye not the sense ye were born with? I saw the smoke from out o’ the chimney and
I knew verra well there’d be none come to here after dark for any good purpose,
so I come straight down here to see what was afoot, and – well, here ye are,
safe and sound and intact, thank God, and why the- why did ye not tell me ye
were coming home? Ye didn’t even tell me ye had a - a lass promised, never mind
a wife! And this is no welcome for a gently-born maid, coming to this benighted
pile of rubble!” He glowered, running his free hand through his short, ruffled
hair. “Well. I’ve said my piece, and I’ll say no more. I bid ye welcome to Four
Ashes, mistress. What’s left of it.”
“Oh,” Thomazine
said faintly. “Thank you.”
“I should like
to reassure you that I am not customarily addressed in like fashion by my
staff,” Thankful said, sounding very stiff and shocked, and then the unmarked
corner of his mouth lifted in that dear lopsided grin. “I don’t hardly count
Eadulf as staff, tibber. More in the way of a friend.”
“Friend, aye,
you might call it friendship. More in the way of a keeper, I’d argue.”
“He pulled me
out from under my horse at Dunbar,” her husband explained, and his hand went,
all unconscious, to his
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