After an hour, she could not handle another moment in the saddle. She hurt in places she did not know had muscles and was certain her spine was severed. She was about to say as much to Benjamin when he stopped the horse. She looked up and gasped.
In front of them, she saw the old stone bridge she crossed with Beth yesterday. She discovered that the bridge was wide enough for the conveyances of 1801, not the modern automobiles of her day. A farmer led a rather stubborn horse that pulled a rickety cart across the bridge. He nodded to Benjamin as he passed them and headed down a road to their right.
She ignored the pain in her back and turned to face forward again. The forest was much thicker than it was the previous day. She decided they must have chopped down a lot of trees over the last two hundred years.
With great interest, she studied the landscape. If she remembered correctly, she should see a small building on the right. Yes, there it was – only, it looked much newer and was surrounded by more trees. Beth told her it was the old stable. In this time, it was likely in use.
“Do you see the clearing?” Benjamin asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You will have your first glimpse of Castle Fion there.”
The road wove through the forest and into an area that was cleared of all trees. The opening offered a fine view of the valley, loch, and, most importantly, Castle Fion. The building looked more intimidating with a deeper gray color. Two hundred years of weather exposure must have dulled the stone to the softer hue she saw during her tour of the grounds.
She surveyed the area. She did not see the electrical power lines and poles that dotted the hills the previous day. Instead, she saw gently rolling mountains covered with trees, heather, and rocks.
The garden also showed a great difference between the times. In Tilly’s day, the style was relaxed. The shrubs were not as heavily manicured as they appeared to be now, and she did not see any wildflowers. Every plant appeared to be carefully selected for its location, without a single weed in sight. And, didn’t Mr. Douglas say something about a small maze? She could see that it existed in the 19th century version of the garden.
She glanced at Benjamin. He seemed very tense. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
He stared at her for some time before he answered. “When I cross that threshold, I wear a heavy mantle of responsibility. The lives of everyone in the castle and on our lands are my concern. It is an extraordinary burden to bear.”
“You are worried that I will create a problem for you,” she surmised. “A strange woman found in the woods, unaccompanied, without family or connection. “
He nodded, urging the horses forward. “Do you remember the tale?” he asked. “You must not deviate from it, Mrs. Munro.”
“I remember. I will do my best not to be a problem for you, Benjamin.”
He winced at the use of his Christian name, yet said nothing. She could tell he was donning a mask that he no doubt wore all the time. When they met, it must have been a rare, unguarded moment for him. Now, he would assume the role of master of the castle.
They rode in silence. The forest grew thick once again, obscuring the castle from view until they were within a few feet of it. They traveled along a dirt trail in the area that would one day become the car park. She noticed the wrought iron entrance on the side of the castle was gone. Mr. Douglas said it was built in the 1900s, if she remembered correctly.
Benjamin guided the horses to the front of the castle. She spotted a tall, thin man hurrying down the stone steps. He barked orders to unseen servants behind him and seemed eager to be the first to greet his liege. When Benjamin commanded the horses to stop, the servant bowed deeply and smiled. The smile vanished when he saw Tilly.
Clearing his throat, he quickly recovered. He straightened his black jacket and raised himself to his full height. “Milord, I see you have brought us a guest,” he remarked, as if it was an everyday occurrence for the master of the castle to ride up with a bedraggled waif.
Benjamin deftly dismounted and raised a hand to assist her. She was not as graceful as he. She slid from the horse and crashed into him. Her legs were like jelly. He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the castle.
“Mr. Murphy,” he said, glancing back at the flustered butler. “My companion is most weary from our travels and the great troubles she experienced on her journey. I am taking her to the Rose Room. Will you please ask Mrs. Keith to attend her?”
“Yes, sir!” the butler cried, scurrying away to find the head housekeeper.
“That should keep the servants occupied for a bit,” Benjamin whispered in her ear. He quickly strode through the grand entrance hall that had captivated her on the previous visit. The portraits of long-dead ancestors seemed to glare at her as he climbed the stairs with ease. He turned to the right at the top. She recalled that the guest rooms were located on the second floor. Since they only saw the state bedchamber, she was curious to see what a guest room looked like in 1801.
He gently placed her on her feet outside an oak door. He made sure she would not fall before he opened it. Then, he ushered her into what she realized must be a receiving room. The light from the hallway cut through the darkness of the room. She could see that the walls were painted a shade of soft pink, giving the room a distinctly feminine air.
He placed her in an overstuffed, gold-colored chair that felt like a piece of heaven after being on the jarring horseback ride. He expertly laid several logs in the hearth and built a cozy blaze in no time at all.
He took a chair opposite her. Glancing at the door he purposely left open, he quickly explained, “When the servants come, they will be very curious about you. Everything you say will spread around the castle and in the neighboring village faster than the plague.”
“I am sure I will be quite a novelty for some time.”
“Aye, you will. You must realize how highly unusual and improper this situation is. Normally, an unmarried man and woman would not be alone without a chaperone.”
Tilly sighed at the silliness of the social convention. Still, she did not want to arouse suspicion or create further trouble. “Tell me what to do, Benjamin,” she said, folding her hands primly in her lap.
“Say nothing to them about our journey. I will share our tale when the time is right.”
He glanced toward the doorway. They could hear the servants coming toward the room. As he rose from the chair and placed a great amount of distance between them, he hissed, “And, please refrain from addressing me by my Christian name when others are present.”
The head housekeeper entered the room first. She wore a black gown with a thick leather belt around her waist. A large set of keys dangled from it and jingled with her every movement. Her white hair was neatly held in check underneath a lacy cap. Her face was set in a very serious expression, yet her gray eyes seemed very kind.
She crossed the room and opened a door for the two maids walking behind her. They carried a large copper bathtub. The women disappeared into the room next door.
Tilly could hear them move into what sounded like other rooms but could not be sure. It suddenly became a beehive of activity when an army of maids descended, carrying steaming buckets of water. She could hear the women pouring the water into the tub. Someone set about building a fire in what must be yet another fireplace.
When their work was completed, the maids quietly scurried away. They averted their eyes when they passed. Tilly suspected any scrutiny would earn them great condemnation from the formidable housekeeper. The woman herself stood in the doorway to the adjoining room, hands on her hips.
“Mrs. Keith, will you allow me the honor of presenting you to Mrs. Munro?” Benjamin said formally. He extended his hand to Tilly, which she gratefully accepted. She doubted she could have stood without assistance.
Mrs. Keith must have noticed Tilly’s wobbly legs. She quickly crossed the room and took Tilly by the arm. “You look as if you could fall flat on your face, milady,” she said, amusement creeping into her voice. �
��Let’s get you in the bath straight away. Everything is better after a good soak.”
As they walked toward the next room, she glanced at Benjamin. “Milord, Iain has been pacing the floors all day,” she said. “You might check the kitchen or your study.”
He nodded and slipped from the room, careful to close the door behind him. Tilly chuckled to herself. I doubt many people can order the king of the castle to leave.
∞
Mrs. Keith smiled at Tilly as she ushered her into the next room. “Mistress, I welcome you to Castle Fion,” she said warmly.
The housekeeper led her through the room. Tilly noticed a mahogany, four-poster bed. It was very grand, with silk brocade curtains of rich gold. She did not understand the fascination with four-poster beds and bed curtains, but she supposed there must be a purpose. She imagined sinking deep into the bedcovers and sleeping for days. It certainly looked comfortable, especially after spending the previous night on the hard ground. She had little time to consider it, though, because Mrs. Keith urged her forward.
It was in the next room that the maids had prepared the gleaming copper tub for her. Placed in front of a roaring fire, it looked most inviting. Tilly glanced at the woman and said belatedly, “It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Keith.”
“A proper soak will soothe your soul,” she said, bending low to remove Tilly’s soiled slippers. “You look as if you have had quite an adventure.”
“Ahh, Mrs. Keith, I…” Tilly said uneasily. She looked around the room. She knew they did not have modern bathrooms yet, so what was she supposed to do?
Fortunately, the housekeeper guessed her need. She led Tilly to a screen in the corner. “You will find what you need here,” she said. “I am not sure if it is as fancy as what you may be accustomed to in….”
Clearly, the woman expected her to reveal from where she came. She smiled faintly, though, ignoring the unasked question. She doubted Mrs. Keith would believe her tale anyway.
A small chair with a hole in the center stood in front of her. She stepped behind the screen, not wanting Mrs. Keith to see her confusion. She had just enough room to tilt to the side and look underneath the chair. She saw a white chamber pot tucked on a ledge directly underneath the opening. The pot had hand-painted roses along the gilded rim. “What the hell?” she mumbled to herself. Sighing, she realized the needs of her bladder were stronger than her curiosity.
That unpleasant experience over, she emerged from behind the screen and tried to look as if she did that sort of thing every day. Before she could ask what should be done about the chamber pot, the housekeeper pulled her toward the steaming tub.
As she removed Tilly’s robe and gown, Mrs. Keith said, “Mr. Campbell’s father thought it was very rude to have chamber pots underneath beds. He believed a person needed a bit of privacy during such a vulnerable moment.”
Tilly stifled a giggle. She slipped into the tub, gritting her teeth against the boiling hot water. After the initial sting, she felt the heat ease her aching muscles and exhaled in pleasure.
“Would milady like to soak a bit before I wash her hair?” Mrs. Keith asked, producing a bar of lavender-scented soap from her pocket.
“If you don’t mind, I can wash my own hair,” Tilly said.
Mrs. Keith seemed unnerved at the prospect of a lady attending her own needs, but she relented without protest. Handing Tilly the bar of soap, she said, “Very well, milady, I shall see where the boys are with your belongings.”
The method of her arrival had no doubt spread throughout the castle. Tilly appreciated Mrs. Keith’s tact. “I am afraid I lost my belongings,” she said, careful to stick to the official story.
“Well, do not worry, milady. I can find something for you to wear while we launder your…gown.” The woman stopped talking as she examined the unusual garments. The nightgown was long, but Tilly knew it was not at all the fashion of the time. The torn fleece robe was made from what was most likely an odd material to the housekeeper. She hoped the woman would not question her choice of garments.
Deciding a change of subject was in order, Tilly asked, “Have you been employed at the castle for a long time, Mrs. Keith?”
“Yes, for some thirty years now. I joined the family when Mr. Campbell was still a wee boy, barely two years of age.”
“How interesting! What was he like?”
“He was a sweet, quiet boy. His older brother Allan was always the rambunctious one. Benjamin was like Allan’s shadow. Wherever Allan went, Benjamin followed.”
“Does Allan live here?”
She turned away. She busied herself by lighting candles throughout the room. She glanced at Tilly. “Allan died when he was only two and twenty,” she said mournfully. “It was a great tragedy.”
Tilly thought she heard a sniffle and noticed the woman dabbing her nose with a handkerchief.
Mrs. Keith cleared her throat. “If it pleases milady, I will leave now and find a gown,” she said, edging toward the door.
Tilly nodded and watched the woman quietly leave the room. She sank deeper into the tub and savored the intense heat that relaxed every muscle in her body. She scrubbed away the dirt that had accumulated on her skin and in her hair. With luck, the soap would cleanse her of the horse smell she probably held in her very pores. Travelling in the 19th century was a very nasty business.
∞
While she enjoyed her soak, Tilly looked around the room. She was no fan of pink, yet the color worked well in this room. She was amazed at how smooth the plaster looked. It must have taken the workmen hours to achieve the effect.
She noticed another door. Based upon what they saw of the castle yesterday, she knew it probably led to another part of the bedchamber. What more could one need? A time machine would be nice, she thought sarcastically. She decided further exploration would be done later. For now, she would be satisfied by familiarizing herself with the current room from the comforts of a relaxing bath.
She was happy to see that the pictures on the walls were of forest scenes, not frowning ancestors. She spotted a large wardrobe of inlaid wood that lined half of a wall. How many dresses could you fit into such a substantial piece of furniture? A gold-colored chaise lounge was placed beside the wardrobe, along with a floor-length mirror. Was dressing so stressful that the wearer needed to take a nap afterwards? She hoped not.
She peered over the rim of the tub to get a better look at a small, mahogany table with an overstuffed, gold-upholstered seat underneath it. An oval mirror with dainty pink roses around the frame was attached to the table. She assumed this was a dressing table, based upon the assortment of sparkling glass bottles arranged upon the table’s surface. If she remembered correctly, the cosmetics to which she was accustomed would not exist for many, many more years. What could the bottles contain? Shrugging, she deduced that she must be in a dressing room.
Most importantly, she looked for the telltale signs of modern life. She did not see electrical sockets or light switches. No electric lamps, only ivory candles in silver candlesticks. No telephone. No WiFi router. No television. She could deny it as much as she liked, but all signs pointed to being trapped in 1801.
She propped her feet on the edge of the tub. She could not forget where – or should she say when – she was, if she had traveled back in time. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe she was in a mental institution. Whatever the truth may be, she knew there was only one thing she could do right now. Closing her eyes, she tried to enjoy a few moments of silence. Chaos would return soon enough.
Ten
Mrs. Keith returned too soon with a pretty gown embellished with delicate, rose-colored flowers. Tilly thought the dress would look better on a younger woman. However, she knew she could not parade naked around the castle so she graciously accepted the garment.
She reluctantly submitted to the housekeeper’s assistance when she climbed from the tub. While the hot bath may have soothed her aching muscles, it failed to strengthen them. She doubted that she could
stand without help for days. She drew the line, though, when the woman attempted to dry her wet skin with a piece of cloth. She could handle that task on her own, thank you very much.
When she saw all the underpinnings that accompanied the gown, she was exceedingly grateful Mrs. Keith would help her. It must take forever to dress and undress in this century, she thought in exasperation.
Mrs. Keith offered Tilly a pair of flesh-toned pantaloons that stopped above her knees. To her amusement, they resembled 70s-style culottes.
She recognized the next garment as a shift, a thin white muslin slip with tiny pink roses along the hem. She would like to have admired it, but there was no time for contemplation. Getting dressed in the 1800s was serious business.
“What is that?” she asked when Mrs. Keith slipped a diaphanous half shirt over her head. She watched the woman tie it closed with ivory-colored ribbons that ran down each side of the garment.
“It is a chemisette,” Mrs. Keith replied. “I fear the gown may be immodest without it, milady.”
Tilly nodded, even though she had no idea what the woman meant. She remained silent while she was forced into a corset, partly because she did not want to seem ignorant and partly because she could scarcely draw breath. She thought corsets went out of fashion sometime in the 1800s. To her chagrin, she must not have travelled far enough in time for that event.
Finally, Mrs. Keith placed the gown over her head and seated her in the chair at the vanity table. “I confess that I have always enjoyed arranging a lady’s hair,” she commented, grinning broadly. She swept Tilly’s hair into a very becoming up ‘do.
“Now, stand up and let me see how you look,” she said. She critically examined her charge from top to bottom. “Milady, you look very fine.”
The corset had given her a buxom bosom for the first time in her life. Mrs. Keith adjusted the chemisette, making sure the plunging neckline of the gown was not too revealing.
The housekeeper frowned when she stared at the hemline of the dress, which was easily three inches too short. While the shift closed some of the gap, it did not completely cover her ankles. “That will not do,” Mrs. Keith mumbled as she crouched on the floor and examined the hem. She looked at the underside of the dress and shook her head.
Through the Mist: Restoration Page 8