Free Macbeth's Niece by Peg Herring Page B

king’s agent and later died there of a
sudden illness. The story she invented was that he’d married a
Scottish woman and fathered a daughter before his death. Eleanor
had kept it to herself until she was sure, but Tessa was in fact
her younger sister, and they were all going to London for her
introduction to William.
    Auntie Madeline had some of her eldest
brother’s disapproving outer manner but was not unkind at heart.
After a moment of shocked silence, she gave Tessa a rather formal
hug, enfolding her in bony arms, and welcomed her to the family.
The three cousins were a little surprised that Tessa was now on
equal footing with them but did not seem upset. Being poor
relatives sent to Brixton, much as Tessa herself had been sent off
to Macbeth’s household, none of them had much expectation for the
future. They would have deluded themselves to suppose Sir William
would settle more than a tiny dowry on them, so there was not much
to be jealous about. And in truth all three were kind-hearted girls
with no rancor in them.
    The weeks that followed were a whirl of
constant activity. Tessa must be taught English dances. Luckily
Alice, the cousin who was sister to Cecilia, was a very patient
teacher. Next she must walk like a lady, not on her heels, and she
must watch her table manners. For example, it was important for a
lady to dip her meat gracefully just halfway into the gravy bowl so
as not to soil her fingers, and then bring the portion to her lips
quickly so the liquid didn’t run down her arm and onto her sleeve.
In London, she was told, people ate from metal plates, not the
wooden trenchers used at Brixton Manor. Ladies carried on their
belts jeweled knives of intricate design with which to cut their
portions and carry the pieces to their mouths. She was given one of
these, modest but well made, as a gift from Eleanor.
    Bolts of fabric were found in the storeroom
with which to make new dresses. Cecilia was good with a needle and
helped Tessa cut two basic shapes and sew them together. In the
front of one dress they cut a squared neckline and edged it with
braid salvaged from an old curtain. The other they rounded and
edged with embroidery. Over these plain shapes the girls wore
tunics of various colors and styles. Tessa made herself a pair of
soft velvet shoes, and a leather worker on the manor made her boots
for foul weather. The old gray cloak she’d worn from Scotland was
cleaned and mended neatly, and clever Cecilia embroidered it with
red designs that changed it from plain to majestic.
    Tessa had a basic knowledge of music and a
good singing voice. Eleanor taught her some English ballads,
tactfully leaving out those that dealt with Scotland, and
encouraged her to accompany herself on the lute. “Nothing melts a
man’s heart as does a woman who sings and plays the songs he
loves,” she told the girls, “unless it’s a woman who cooks and
serves his favorite foods.” And so there were cooking lessons.
Tessa could clean fish and fowl, but she’d never taken much
interest in cooking them. The English way, not known as the best of
the world’s cuisine, was still better than Scottish food, which was
plainly prepared to say the least.
    “And haggis, my dear,” Eleanor said. “I’ve
heard of it, but I can’t imagine anyone actually eating it.”
    “Then you probably wouldn’t like black
pudding, either,” Tessa told them. “You start with twelve cups of
pig’s blood—” The other women squealed, but they all laughed
together. Tessa thought of her own sisters, and wished their lives
could have been more like this, with laughter and joy rather than
the peevish carping that was all the littler ones had ever known of
their mother. She at least remembered her father’s kindness as he
had attempted to ease Kenna’s sharpness. “Now, lass,” he often said
to his wife, “don’t let the world make you sad or mad, for it’s
only yourself you’re listenin’ to.”
    Tessa reminded herself it was she,