Blair turned several pages over before pointing to a page covered in numbers. She pointed to the first row. “This is the amount of money the clan had before Laird Cameron went to Stirling.” She moved her finger down and pointed to three figures. “The next row is the amount for the geld, then the amount for the thirlage, and the amount for the cáin. Further down, ye will see the original amount minus what Laird Cameron paid. Ye’ll notice a balance remains. And that’s because ye didna send Laird Cameron with the correct amount. This is the value of the sacks of grain and barrels of whisky Faolán and Drostan were to deliver. Here is what’s left over from the taxes owed because they failed. Dinna forget we still have the geld left to pay. That’s this amount right here.”
Blair paused, taking in the confused and concerned expressions of the men. The only person she felt bad for in the room was Hardi. He hadn’t moved from the desk, so the focus remained on Blair. She’d explained everything to him more than once, but he still struggled to understand. Part of him was relieved that the others looked just as confused, but the other part of him was furious that none of them looked to know what to do.
“This number is what I expected the clan to spend for the winter, but that was before I kenned aboot the missing grain and whisky and before I kenned about the slaughtered sheep. The amount will have to go up. Which means,” she tapped the last figure on the page. “This amount goes down. And this is the amount that the clan has in reserves.”
Blair slid the book down the table just like she had the other. She leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers over her belly. She remained quiet as the men peered at the books, but she knew it meant little to most of them. However, she and Hardi were looking for anyone who appeared to understand what was in front of them. They hoped this might be a better way to ferret out the author of the missive, but nothing stood out to either of them.
“Lady Blair,” Niall cast her a scornful look. “And how do ye ken all of this?”
“Do ye mean how do I ken how to keep these records? I ken because ma mother taught me to be a chatelaine. If ye mean how do I ken these numbers for the clan, I’m Lady Cameron.”
“Ye’ve been Lady Cameron for a day,” Niall pressed.
“Ye’ve kenned I’m Lady Cameron for a day. But I have been Lady Cameron for more than a fortnight.”
“Ye are being evasive,” Osgar accused.
“Bluidy insufferable, isnae it? Mayhap ye realize how Laird Cameron feels when ye dinna answer his questions. Mayhap ye can imagine ma frustration when I looked at the original records. The lack of timely entries is the same as being evasive. It hides the truth. Once again, either ye dinna care enough aboot this clan to help lead and ensure its welfare, or ye arenae knowledgeable enough to do it.” Blair raised her hand to keep them from speaking. “If ye dinna care, ye dinna care. I canna do aught aboot that. But warming these chairs for years on end doesnae make ye knowledgeable. If it did, we wouldnae be in this jumble. I can fix lack of knowledge. Be willing to learn, and there is someone here willing to teach. If ye dinna want to learn, then be honorable and say so. I will deal with it, and I willna waste anyone’s time.”
“Why should we believe ye?” Niall demanded.
“Why would I lie?” Blair locked eyes with Niall, daring him to look away first. “If there is nay coin, there is nay coin. I canna make it magically appear like manna from God. If there is nay coin and I canna suddenly make more, then there is nay money for me to overspend. If ye can see there isnae enough coin, then ye canna blame me when we canna buy what we need. Either way, I live here now, and I dinna plan to starve.”
Several of the men turned to one another and whispered, but Blair sat too far away to catch any of what they said. She waited impatiently, wanting to turn back to look at Hardi, but she wouldn’t give away any of her doubts. The men as a one turned back to look at Blair. She realized that Niall was now the unofficial leader since Faolán was no longer a part of the council.
“Vera well, Lady Cameron. We accept yer offer to maintain the ledgers, both the keep’s and the clan’s. We thank ye for yer help. Ye have generously given us yer time. We dinna wish to keep ye from yer duties,” Niall offered a patronizing smile.
“That isnae enough.”
“I beg yer pardon, ma lady,” Niall startled.
“Ye intend to tell me after ye’ve spent the clan’s funds. I dinna agree with that. Ye will spend us into the grave just as ye are now. Me keeping a tally after the fact is nay better than nae keeping a tally at all. Ye will tell me what ye intend to spend funds on, and I will tell ye if ye may.”
“That’s outrageous,” Paul slammed his fist on the table. Blair sensed Hardi’s movement, but she was quick to reply.
“What is outrageous is that ye have spent years sitting around drinking whisky, gossiping aboot other clans, puffing yerself up like a pigeon looking for a mate, and all the while, only two people ever learned how to read and lied more often than nae. What’s outrageous is that ye’ve gotten us into this mess. And what is absolutely outrageous is nae a bluidy one of ye has an ounce of regret or remorse in yer voice or in yer eyes. If ye dinna agree to me overseeing this clan’s finances, I will stand on the battlements and tell every member of this clan how ye failed them. Think to silence me, and it willna be just ma husband after yer heads. Dinna ever forget who I am and where I came from. I am Lady Blair Cameron. When I married the laird, the wellbeing of this clan became ma highest priority. Whether it is a threat from outside or within, I willna let this clan perish. So ye had better decide vera bluidy quickly whether yer bollocks are big enough to listen to a woman, or if ye’d like to ruin this entire clan.”
“Laird Cameron, deal with yer wife,” Niall snarled.
Hardi stood up and rounded the desk. He stood behind Blair and put his hands on her shoulders. “Vera well. Ma solution to ma wife’s demands is that I grant them. She is now responsible for keeping the accounts and has final say on all items. I ken ma wife will discuss matters with me, but if it’s nae possible, her word is law.”
“I ken we arenae off to a pleasant start,” Blair said conciliatorily. “Ye’re angry. I’m angry. But I want to believe we all have the clan’s needs as our priority. I stand by what I’ve said, and I ken that rubs the wrong way. However, ye liking me has naught to do with the future this clan faces. Ye needed a sound slap in the face to make ye come to. Ye need to realize how serious the situation is. I have nay intention of telling anyone outside this chamber that I decide the clan’s finances. That isnae anyone’s business besides ours. As far as the clan is concerned, naught needs to look different from how it always has.”
Blair paused as she let her words sink in. The varying degrees of scorn and anger didn’t deter her. If they believed they knew more than her, then they could prove it by being responsible. Until then, they would have to make do.
“Behind closed doors,” Blair continued, “I count every grain of salt, every goose feather, every leaf of cabbage, and I keep track of every doyt and pound coming in and out of the clan. It is a tedious duty, and nae one I’m particularly excited to have. But it must be done. Like it or nae, I am the only person in this clan who’s qualified. Ye havenae had a chatelaine in over a year, and I dinna ken if ye ever had a seneschal. Mayhap Faolán thought he was it. But I’m here, and I’m willing and able.”
Blair’s softer tone eased the tension in the room, but she didn’t regret her earlier harshness. She expected more resistance, and she wanted the council to know they couldn’t thwart her. Hardi squeezed her shoulders as the men continued to whisper amongst themselves. When they turned back to face Hardi and Blair, there was resignation on their faces. They agreed to Blair’s terms, and she felt one weight lift off her shoulder. Unfortunately, there were still several remaining.
“Laird, if we may. We need to discuss the MacDonalds at Inverlochy. Ye said ye negotiated new terms, so we need to make them official.” Niall turned back to Blair once more. “Thank ye again, ma lady. Good
day.”
Blair didn’t move for a long moment, then she stood, but rather than walk to the door, she returned to her seat beside the desk. She smiled politely as the men stared at her. When they continued to direct owlish gazes at her, she grinned. “I can have a good day right here in this chair.”
A man she still didn’t know snorted. It broke the tension and several of the other men chortled. Paul looked at Hardi as he laughed. “Ye found yerself a bright one. Tongue sharp enough to cut leather with a bonny smile while she does it. Vera well.” Blair understood Paul imagined he was complimenting her, and she understood he’d dismissed her even though she remained in the chamber. She glanced at Hardi, who tried to hide his knowing smile as he took his seat beside her.
Hardi began. “I renegotiated several terms of our agreement with the MacDonalds. The chieftain’s laird is aware of the updated arrangement since we met together. As ye surely noticed, the MacDonalds have lent us three score of their warriors. This displeased Artair, but it displeased him more to remember that he is only the guardian of Inverlochy. It is still our keep. We suffered a heavy loss during our trial by combat with the Mackintoshes.”
Hardi swallowed as images of the battle flashed before him. Blair squeezed the hand she held, and he glanced at her. He saw the deep concern within her eyes, and he could tell she worried he wouldn’t be able to continue. He wanted Blair to be proud of him during their first full council meeting together. He couldn’t be prouder of her, and he didn’t want to disappoint her after she bravely faced down the council.
“We need the extra warriors for our defenses. All is quiet for now. But the feuds arenae over. After Faolán’s raid, it’s inevitable that the Macphersons will retaliate. They demanded that the king intervene, but they will say they can justify another raid. Never mind they already have more of our sheep. That is why I took advantage of our opportunity to change the terms of the MacDonalds’ lease.”
Hardi pulled out a sheaf of parchment, a quill, and ink, laying them out on the desk before Blair and him. He was of two minds as to whether he should attempt to write some information in his own hand or have Blair do all the writing. He noticed her slight nod of encouragement. He started with what he was sure he could manage.
“I am recording the dates of our fresh arrangement, who was present at the meeting, and where it took place,” Hardi explained. He looked up to see several surprised expressions. He knew it still surprised most of the council that he could write. He had written little in front of them, but it was enough for them to believe he could. Hardi glanced once more at Blair, unsure of what to discuss next. When she leaned over to whisper to him, Malcolm cleared his throat.
“Lady Cameron, we’ve accepted yer terms for handling the finances, but if ye dinna understand contracts, ye should leave,” Malcolm suggested. When he saw Hardi’s expression change, he stumbled to add, “So ye arenae bored. Laird Cameron can explain it later. But we dinna have time for yer questions.”
Blair looked at Malcolm and then at Hardi. At his exasperated expression, she burst into laughter. She shook her head and raised her palm to Hardi, offering him the chance to explain. She was fed up with trying to convince the council she was just as competent, if not more so, than they were.
“Lady Cameron was aboot to remind me that we renegotiated the banalities. Imagine ma surprise when I learned the MacDonalds owed us rents that I didna ken existed. Fortunately, she explained those to me while Laird MacDonald chewed Artair’s ear off for nae paying them. She also explained there’s a pannage owed to us. Imagine the missed opportunity that would have been. Or better yet, imagine ma embarrassment—yet again—that I didna ken the basics of being a landowning laird. Did it slip yer minds?” Hardi asked. “Lady Cameron has warned me nae to count on these funds in case MacDonald doesnae pay them straight away. We may nae be the only clan who canna pay their debts on time.”
The men looked at her as though she were an exotic animal, and they weren’t sure if she was tame. She greeted their stares with a serene smile before looking at Hardi. He’d been prepared to attempt more writing on his own, but his clansmen’s rudeness to Blair frustrated him, and he feared he’d make a mess of the contract. He slid the parchment and quill to her.
“Lady Cameron, as the keeper of our finances,” Osgar sneered. “Ye must ken how expensive parchment is. Mayhap ye could find some sewing to keep ye occupied rather than drawing.”
“Osgar, ye’re an arse,” Hardi snapped. “I dinna fight ma wife’s battles for her. She will run circles around all of us and willna tire. Ye insist upon belittling her and insulting her—despite me sitting here—because she has us all by the bollocks. There is only one person in this clan who can read, write, and do sums with ease. That is Lady Cameron. Who do ye think taught me?” Hardi ignored the shocked gasps and incredulous looks. He plowed on. “I’m learning, but I dinna have her skills. Neither do any of ye. So, we can keep going around in circles with yer petty comments that make ye look like sulking weans, or we can behave like adults and move on. Lady Cameron will attend all council meetings. She will be ma scribe until such time as I can do it maself. She will remain on the council after that. She is a voting member of this council, and she has the same authority as I do. If ye canna live with that, then it looks like one of Faolán’s bastards will be yer next laird.”
Blair watched as a man leaned forward and made it clear he was through listening to the council members insult Blair and that he had better things to do with his day than listen to his peers whine. Hardi leaned over and whispered the man’s name was Mungan and that he and Hardi were close in age. He’d replaced a member on the council when he died in the same battle where Hardi lost his cousins.
“Laird, Lady, we accept all terms regarding Lady Cameron’s position on this council and in this clan. We are fortunate to have Lady Cameron join our clan. And we are especially fortunate,” Mungan looked around the table, “that Lady Cameron is still in this chamber and hasnae given up on us. She has the patience of a saint, even if she has the tongue of an asp. I think we’ll soon realize she is exactly what this clan needs. Now, can we please cease the clishmaclaver and finish this bluidy meeting? I have things to do before I go to ma grave. At this rate, they’ll never get done.”
Mungan’s declaration ceased the bickering and snarkiness, so the council finished codifying the contract. The men filed out of the chamber, and once the door closed behind the last member, Blair fell against Hardi’s chest. She was exhausted.
“Wait here,” Hardi murmured. He rushed to the door and locked it before returning to Blair. He swept her into his arms and carried her to a chair before the fire. He settled her against his chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead with a tender smile. “Sleep.”
“What aboot ye?” Blair tried to stifle her yawn, but she was too comfortable in Hardi’s lap. “Ye canna just sit here with naught to do, trapped beneath me.”
“Ye may trap me beneath ye any time, and I willna complain. But I intend to get some shuteye too.”
“Sitting up?” Blair was aghast and tried to right herself.
“Blair, I have slept sitting up far too many times to count. It isnae cold in here, it’s dry, there isnae anyone trying to run me through, and I have ma bonny wife in ma arms. I’d say this is a fine place to take a nap.”
Blair blinked several times before nodding, her heart aching with sadness from Hardi’s experiences and fear of when being both a laird and a warrior would force him to sleep outside again.
“Shh, mo chridhe. I didna tell ye that to upset ye or make ye worry. I told ye because I appreciate this time with ye. Now sleep, Blair. I need the rest too.”
“I love ye, Hardi,” Blair said around a yawn, and her eyes didn’t open again. Hardi shifted and shut his. They slept through the midday meal and spent the afternoon reflecting on what was said and left unsaid during the council meeting. They still didn’t know who plotted against Hardi, but they separated the council members into groups by what the
y had to gain. Hardi realized the man who topped their list was Paul.
Forty-Two
Blair shielded her eyes from the midafternoon sun as she and Hardi stood on the battlements. After the council meeting the previous day, Blair opted to spend the morning engaged in more womanly pursuits. She met with Dolina to set the menu for the week, then she met with Mordag to discuss the most pressing needs for the keep. Afterward, Hardi took her on a tour of the village, and she received a warm welcome from everyone. When she spotted councilmen, they offered a curt nod before skirting away from her. They didn’t offend her since she wished to avoid them too.
As they stood together, Hardi pointed out various points across the landscape. He grinned as he told stories of how he, his brother, and his cousins used to race their horses across the pastureland and hunt in the woods to the west. It was the first time Hardi spoke of his family without a hollowness in his chest threatening to rip him apart. His grief felt lighter as he reminisced with Blair. When he startled Blair with a deep and lingering kiss, he explained how he felt.
“Isnae that Alan?” Blair pointed to a man approaching the portcullis. He was on foot, but he looked dusty and weary. “Did ye send him somewhere?”
“I didna,” Hardi growled. He took Blair’s hand and led her to the stairs. They met Alan as he passed through the gates. “Ye dinna look in good form.”
Alan’s head snapped in Hardi’s direction. He dipped his head to acknowledge Blair, then looked back at Hardi. “The weather here is fine, but it’s chucking it down at Inverlochy.”
A Saint at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Six Page 27