She produced a pair of small scissors from her pocket. She deftly snipped a few threads, releasing an inch or so of fabric. She tugged, yet could not make the hemline reach Tilly’s feet.
“I apologize, milady,” she said, rising from the floor. “If you please, I will take the gown from you and try to fix the hemline.” She quickly removed the garment and was halfway to the door.
Tilly did not understand why it was a problem but did not protest. The woman seemed knowledgeable about proper fashion, so who was she to argue?
Realizing Mrs. Keith meant to leave the room, she asked desperately, “Could you undo my corset before you leave?”
“Does milady require further assistance?” she chuckled as she freed Tilly from the constraining article.
Tilly shook her head, blushing slightly. She wondered if she should have known how to remove her own corset. She thanked Mrs. Keith for her efforts, fully aware that the head housekeeper had far more important tasks than being her personal stylist.
Mrs. Keith promised to return with the altered dress before dinner. “You must be very hungry. I will have a maid bring you a tray,” she said. “Then, you may take your rest.”
∞
Within moments of the housekeeper’s departure, two maids appeared at her door. One maid, a girl who could not have been more than twelve, bobbed a quick curtsey and swiftly moved through the doorway leading to the adjacent room. The other maid carried a silver tray and had a robe draped over her arm. She followed the other maid into the room. Tilly watched her place the tray on a round table near the fireplace.
She returned to the dressing room and helped Tilly into the robe. “Milady, I will be happy to help you to the bedchamber if you would like to retire there,” she said, gesturing toward the doorway. “I am sure the fire is prepared by now.”
At that moment, Tilly was more curious than hungry. The previous bedroom seemed very elegant. She was eager to see how the main bedchamber would look, especially since the guest rooms were not part of the tour Beth and she took.
She was not disappointed. As she slowly walked into the room, she was struck by the quiet elegance of the decoration. Whoever designed this room’s décor had a light touch. The pale pink wallpaper nicely complimented the oak floors. Thick brocade curtains in a rich shade of gold hung from the large windows directly in front of her. They offered a view of the dense forest through which she rode to the castle with Benjamin.
As promised, the girl had built a hearty blaze in the white marble fireplace opposite the bed. Since it was not quite cold enough for two fires, the hearth in the other fireplace between the windows was untouched. Tilly surmised that the lack of a modern heating system necessitated the need for as many fireplaces as a room could accommodate. She shuddered to think how cold winters would be here. She sincerely hoped she was home before she could learn firsthand.
Settling into one of the pale gold arm chairs that faced the hearth, she watched the maids work. The girl handled the menial task of sweeping away the debris from starting the fire while the other maid poured a hot cup of tea from the white china teapot.
The fireplace maid, as Tilly called her, curtsied and swiftly left. Turning her attention to the other maid, she noticed how pretty the woman was. Her blonde hair was tucked into a white cap that complimented her clear skin. Large, blue eyes gazed critically around the room as she made sure everything was properly arranged for the comfort and ease of the castle’s guest. The crisp white apron tied around her simple, navy dress accentuated her petite, hourglass figure.
If Tilly remembered correctly, it was customary to hire pretty women for the maids who dealt directly with guests. Did Benjamin personally pick this blue-eyed beauty? Did he prefer blondes? To her surprise, she felt a pang of jealousy.
“Milady?” the woman repeated, staring expectantly at Tilly.
“I am sorry. I was lost in thought. What did you say?”
“I asked if milady requires anything further for her stay.”
“No, thank you. You are free to go.”
The maid curtsied and slipped from the room. Tilly felt like such a snob. You are free to go – what the hell was that? she thought, shaking her head.
She turned her attention to the tray. Steam rose from the cup of tea as she poured a tiny bit of milk into it. She carefully stirred the beverage, savoring the welcoming aroma. She took a sip and almost gagged. The tea was bitter, nothing like the smooth teas to which she was accustomed.
She hastily grabbed a buttery scone from a plate on the tray and took a big bite. Its sweet goodness eliminated the harsh taste of the tea. Easily 50 grams of fat, but Tilly did not care. She was starving and consumed the scone in seconds.
Her belly full, she rose on shaky legs and stumbled toward the bed. She flopped ungracefully on top of it. She did not realize how exhausted she was. She closed her eyes and could feel herself sinking deeper into the fluffy, goose down pillow. In seconds, she fell into a deep sleep before she could even bother pulling the covers over her body.
Eleven
Benjamin was far from sleep. He was a bundle of nervous energy. He paced restlessly in his study, trying to sort out the events that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door to the room swung wide. A burly man with a thick red beard burst into the room. “Thank God you are back!” he boomed, quickly closing the distance between them. He pulled Benjamin into a bone-crushing embrace.
“I have not been gone that long, Iain,” Benjamin said, gasping for air. He shoved the man away from him and frowned. “Why are you acting like a lovesick lass?”
Iain MacIver punched his friend in the shoulder and settled into a chair beside the fireplace. He had been the estate’s factor for many years. Benjamin knew it was the man’s job to worry.
“I take it you have not heard the news,” he said, handing Benjamin a piece of battered parchment that he retrieved from his coat pocket. He grabbed a scone from a tray on a nearby table. He took a bite, an enormous smile of satisfaction lighting his face.
“It cannot be,” Benjamin whispered as he read the message. He collapsed into a chair beside Iain and stared at the man in disbelief.
“Aye, the wily bastard finally died. A boy delivered the letter a few hours ago. I was about to assemble a search party before I heard you were back. I feared the worse.”
“The debt was paid in full sixteen years ago.”
“You believe they paid a debt owed to you,” Iain replied thoughtfully. “I suspect Richard MacDonald feels you owe a debt to him.”
Benjamin shook his head. “His father swore the feud was over,” he said. A hint of unease crept into his voice.
“The father is gone. The son may have other designs.”
“When did it happen?”
“Three weeks ago,” Iain answered between bites of scone. He licked the crumbs from his fingers and deftly dusted his beard. “The weather has been fair. Richard could be here.”
Iain’s calculations troubled Benjamin so he shared the tale about how he found Tilly. He spared no details. The man was also his best friend and would not share the story, not that anyone would believe it. It was too incredible.
“Are you absolutely certain there were no other tracks in the pasture, Benjamin?”
“None. It is as if she appeared from the mist, just as she claims.”
He could almost see the wheels turning in Iain’s head. He knew his friend worried Tilly might be a MacDonald spy. The timing of her arrival was all too convenient. Still, she did not have a Scottish accent, and her ways were so foreign. He said as much.
“Let us say nothing to the lass and watch her carefully, Benjamin,” he finally said. “If she is indeed a MacDonald spy, she may reveal herself.”
“What if she is not a MacDonald spy?”
“Do not forget you have other enemies besides the MacDonalds,” Iain replied, rising from the chair. “Your father is the worst of them all!”
Benja
min tossed his hands into the air. “As long as the money continues to flow, he does not care about me.”
“The man has his fingers in everything,” Iain said, shaking his head. “Have you forgotten the contents of his recent letter? He means to see you married as soon as may be. You do not know who she is, so pray hold your tongue around that woman.”
Something in Benjamin’s heart made him dare to believe that Tilly was not a threat. He did not share the thought, knowing it was madness to trust too soon. Reluctantly, he agreed, “Aye, we will sit quietly and watch her.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Now, Iain, tell me what else has happened since I have been gone.”
The factor proceeded to inform him about the mundane activities of the estate. All the while, Benjamin continued to ponder Tilly’s mysterious appearance. Before he learned about the MacDonald, he was convinced she was a deeply troubled widow who invented a fantastic story to deal with the pain. Now, he could not help but wonder if the truth was far more sinister.
Twelve
Tilly awoke with a start. She had the most peculiar dream. She had been transported back in time and was a princess in a great castle. Lazily, she stretched her arms high above her head and opened her eyes. Her gaze fell on the gold bed curtains. Then, turning her head, she spotted the fireplace. Her memory flooded back to her in a rush. Oh, God, it was not a dream, she groaned.
She slowly rose from the bed, her muscles aching from the tortuous horseback ride. If she needed further proof of her situation, there it was. She suspected she suffered some sort of spinal injury. She stumbled to her feet and used the bed as support until she steadied herself. Modern transportation usually did not involve so much pain.
She managed to make her way to a window and peered outside. If she pressed her face against the cool glass, she could glimpse the sun setting over the loch. It painted the sky in vibrant purples and pinks. Even in the dim light, she recognized where she was in the castle. She should be overlooking the car park. Instead, she saw the forest through which they rode earlier that day.
She took a deep breath. Her friend Beth would say it was time to put on her big girl panties, figuratively, not literally. Did they even have big girl panties? she wondered.
Shaking her head, she decided musings about undergarments were not helpful to her plight. She was likely stuck here until she could figure out how to return. If she had travelled back in time, she would be in a similar period as Jane Austen’s novels.
After seeing the BBC mini-series of Pride and Prejudice – the good one with Colin Firth – Tilly and Beth went through a Jane Austen phase. They read every book. They watched the mini-series again. And again. And again. Regrettably, Austen’s books were set in the English countryside, not in Scotland. She hoped that Scottish manners were comparable so she would not embarrass herself. What would Eliza Bennet do?
She decided Eliza would make sure her appearance was fine for dinner. She spotted a small dressing table in the corner. She took a seat in front of it and studied her reflection in the mirror. She almost did not recognize the person who stared back at her. She had never worn her hair that way, all swept high upon her head with little wisps dangling on the side. She tucked a few errant strands of hair in place and smoothed her eyebrows. Thankfully, her pale skin and hazel eyes looked clear even though she did not have a trace of makeup.
Satisfied that her hair and face looked presentable, she examined the state of her dress. She hoped Mrs. Keith would be able to work her magic. Of course, even if the housekeeper managed to make the hemline the proper length, the style was questionable. The little pink flowers set onto a field of soft crème were a bit daintier than her usual, somber wardrobe, which was comprised of black and gray knits. She decided that beggars cannot be choosers.
What was she to do? She did not want to draw attention to herself by acting in an unusual way. The Austen novels were the only source material she had for the current era. Sighing, she stared at her reflection. Think, Tilly, she commanded herself.
As she recalled, the characters moved in a constrained world where saying or doing the wrong thing could bring disgrace upon you and your family. She certainly did not want to create trouble for her host or, to be honest, herself. What did she remember about that world?
She spread the fingers of her right hand and began to count. One, the use of a person’s first name seemed to be a big deal. Was it reserved for parties with whom she had a close relationship? How long did she have to know someone before she could use the person’s first name? The issue seemed so complicated. Benjamin already cautioned her so she should take his advice.
She supposed number two was to avoid any hint that she engaged in sinful behavior. She recalled how scandalous it was when Lydia ran away with Wickham. Tilly snorted in a very coarse manner. She did with Benjamin the very things Lydia probably did with Wickham, so she was already a wanton woman. No one else knew about it, though. She must endeavor to act as if it never happened.
Three, she should curtsey whenever she saw Benjamin. Should she address the servants that way too? The maids had curtsied to her. Was she supposed to do the same? It seemed a bit rude not to acknowledge them. She did not want to be dismissive of their presence the same way those rich snobs back home were with the wait staff in their restaurant. Should she nod? Could she address them by name? If so, which name? Their first or last name? She decided to watch Mrs. Keith’s reaction to all of their interactions. She was certain the woman would quickly correct her if she was too informal.
Moving on, she thought. Four, women of genteel birth had no occupation, save marriage, household management, and child rearing. Days seemed to be filled with leisure, not work. This concept was completely foreign to her. How does one fill the time? She could not imagine embroidering pillows or taking strolls around the garden, yet those should be her principal activities. She could not expect to occupy her time with actual work.
Did Benjamin sit idly while his servants took up the difficult tasks? She could not envision him spending his days reading books or making calls to other gentry in the area. Images of his naked body glowing in the firelight danced before her eyes. He did not get those muscles or calloused hands from leisurely pursuits. She mentally shook herself. Now was not the time for steamy memories. What else?
Five…she hesitated. This was the most painful thing of all. Women with no connection or money did not belong in proper society. The plight of the Bennet and Dashwood daughters was most grim. They were wealthy compared to her present situation. She literally had no money or connections in 1801.
This realization was depressing. She sincerely hoped her host was a man of his word. Otherwise, she had no idea what she would do. She did not know how to get back to her own time and had nowhere to go.
She shook her head. Why was she thinking so much about him? He seemed to constantly pop up in her brain. Didn’t she have more important concerns right now? She was certain he was not thinking about her.
She folded her shaking hands in her lap, sitting straight. She crossed her ankles and tried to arrange her face into a demure expression. She assumed this is how she must be – a tumult of emotion on the inside, a blank canvas on the outside. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she was pleased to see that her countenance did not betray the terror she felt.
“Milady, I have mended the gown,” Mrs. Keith announced from the open doorway.
She beckoned Tilly to join her in the dressing room. “I tried my best, milady,” she apologized, holding the gown in front of her. “You are a tall woman.”
Tilly groaned when she was forced her into the corset. Then, she donned the gown and realized the woman was too modest. With a bit of lace and satin, Mrs. Keith managed to fashion a longer and very attractive hemline that covered her bare feet. If she did know better, she would have sworn the new hemline was part of the original design.
She sat at the dressing table and slipped on a pair of matching satin shoes. They were a bit snug but manageable. Impu
lsively, Tilly hugged the surprised housekeeper. “Thank you so much!” she exclaimed. “The gown is beautiful.”
Mrs. Keith appeared flustered at the show of affection but smiled nonetheless, a most becoming look for her. Tilly guessed the woman was once a great beauty and did not understand why she settled for a housekeeping position. That would be a story for another day.
“Milady, if you please,” Mrs. Keith said, motioning to the door. “It is time to join Mr. Campbell for the evening meal.”
Show time, Tilly thought.
Thirteen
Benjamin waited for Tilly outside the formal state dining room on the second floor. She was taken aback at the sight of him. The man cleaned up well.
He looked as if he too had bathed, the grime of travel removed from his brow. He had shaved the light beard that formed on his face. He looked as ruggedly handsome in real life as he did in the portrait she saw during the castle tour. She lowered her gaze and decided to focus on his outfit. It was dangerous to stare into those moss green eyes.
His coat was navy and resembled a tuxedo jacket with tails. The shirt was more formal than his previous pirate shirt, as she called it. It was crisp, white linen with a fancy knot at the neck. He wore what appeared to be a light blue vest underneath his coat. It was embroidered with tiny gold leaves. His beige pants were skin tight and stopped at the knees, where they skimmed the tops of well-polished, brown leather boots.
She was so taken by his appearance that it took a moment for her to realize he offered her his arm. She blinked at first then pretended he was Mr. Darcy, and she was Elizabeth Bennet. She wrapped her hand around the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.
Through the Mist: Restoration Page 9