Free Clandara by Evelyn Anthony Page B

own maid to wait on her; she was a dark, sullen girl who had come from Dundrenan and made friends with nobody in the five years she had been among the Frasers.
    â€œIt’s Katharine. May I come in?” She paused a little awkwardly by the door until her step-mother came out of the inner room where she slept. She looked very tired and her eyes were red, though whether from sleeplessness or weeping it was hard to say.
    â€œWhat can I do for you?” she asked.
    Katharine shook her head. “Nothing, madam. I only came to wish you a good morning and to say I am going to see Kincarrig today. I wondered if you knew it.”
    â€œI have been there,” Margaret answered dully. “But it was empty then. My family preferred Dundrenan; it was easier to fortify. Kincarrig is a very fine, large house. I am sure you will like it.”
    â€œI’m sure I will.” Katharine hesitated. She had nothing to say to the other woman; her effort had been made and she was embarrassed and anxious to escape. For James’s sake she made one more.
    â€œAfter we are married, madam, I hope you will come and visit us from time to time.”
    â€œIf your father gives permission, I would like that very much. James will be going to Kincarrig with you, of course.”
    â€œHe’s meeting us,” Katharine answered.
    â€œThen give him my greetings. I wish you a good journey.” And the Countess opened the door for her and closed it firmly on her.
    Her maid, Jean Macdonald, came out of the Countess’s powder closet where she had been listening.
    â€œWe are invited to Kincarrig,” Margaret announced “After the wedding.”
    â€œWill ye go, milady?” Jean asked her.
    â€œI would rather die than see a Fraser mistress of Kincarrig or any other house belonging to our people. If he had taken her to Dundrenan it would have broken my heart.”
    â€œOch, milady, maybe it’ll be easier for you when they’re married.”
    Jean, whom everyone despised as stupid and taciturn, was the possessor of a particularly warm heart as well as an immutably unforgiving nature regarding her enemies. She loved her mistress as much as Annie Fraser loved hers, but it was the devotion of the servant, awkward and ill-expressed in words.
    â€œNothing will be easier for me,” Margaret said, “until the day his lordship dies and I can go back to my own people. And take you with me, you poor child. There’s no man for you here among these people.”
    â€œI don’t want one,” Jean said quickly. “I’m content as I am. Come, milady, your toilette is ready for the day.”
    Margaret still used her trousseau. She had not bought a new gown or a fresh set of underclothes for five years. She would wear the silks and velvets and the flowing robes of lace and lawn until they were patched and darned and fell to pieces. She would not spend one penny on herself nor ask a penny from her husband. It was a curious and dangerous idiosyncrasy which no one had noticed because they so seldom noticed her. She dressed and prepared herself for another day spent in organizing the household in opposition to the Earl’s steward who hated her, and the servants who disobeyed her if they could. A day spent in boredom; riding alone except for a Fraser trotting behind her as custom decreed; drinking chocolate in the Library with her husband and Robert while they talked over her head as if she were not there, dining and supping with them in the enormous draughty hall at the end of a long table, and then retiring early to sit and sew in her own rooms until she chose to go to bed. And there was no release that she could see but Clandara’s death or her own.
    It was a lovely morning. The month of July had been warm with little rain, and the countryside had blossomed into heather and patches of bright yellow gorse. The mountains rose high in the distance, their sides a dark purple wreathed in