went anywhere near Moira MacLean she’d tel the woman exactly what she thought of her, and none of it was good. She waved good-bye to Jamie and Janet, and final y to Cal um. It took five attempts before she was able to reassure him that she real y did want to work in the kitchens. And no, she wasn’t suffering from heat stroke. And yes, she was sure she’d be safe enough—unless you included Cook and his kitchen knife. Upon opening the kitchen door a blast of hot, humid air sucked Ali’s breath from her. She grabbed hold of the doorframe before venturing down the three stone steps into the kitchen. The sweltering heat and smoke-laden air caused her eyes to sting.
Cook sat on a stool, slouched over the heavily scored wooden table. He turned his head to look at Ali, his face gray, his lips parched. “Dear Lord, I doona’ ken what I did to deserve this much punishment in one day.” His words were slurred.
Ali ignored his comment and hurried to his side. She re
moved the knife from his hand. “Have you had anything to drink?”
“Nay.” He shook his head, eyes drooping. Ali knelt at his side, pul ing his lower lid down. “Come on,” she said, tugging him to his feet. “You have to get out of here before you drop dead.”
“Nay.” He tried to fight her off, but was too weak. “We are no’ done preparin’ the feast.” He waved limply at the two open flames where four young girls tended to a huge caul
dron and a spit that held a pig. They didn’t look as though they fared much better than Cook. She tightened her hold on the man and nudged him forward. “Girls, you come, too. Out you go,” Ali said as she managed to get him up the last step. The young maids exchanged worried glances. Their hands twisted in their aprons. It was then Ali recognized three of the four. They were the girls that had abused Mari
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in the courtyard. Ali tamped down her anger. It was the first time she’d seen them since that day. Mrs. Mac had assured her they’d been punished, and Ali guessed this was it.
“But, my lady, there is stil much to do,” said a girl Ali didn’t recognize.
“Wel , you won’t be getting it done if you pass out, now wil you? Come on.” She waved them up the steps. “We have to get you out of this heat and get some fluids into you.”
Once outside, Ali lowered Cook to the ground and propped him against the outside wal of the kitchens. The girls stumbled into the bright sunlight and sank down alongside him. Ali went back in and stirred what looked to be a thick stew. She wrinkled her nose at the pig on the spit. She cranked the handle, but barely managed to get it halfway around.
A low cackle from behind her startled Ali and she jumped. A stooped old woman, her face as wrinkled as a prune, appeared at her side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here,” Ali apologized.
“Ye canna’ do it yerself, lass.” The woman placed gnarled hands over Ali’s and between the two of them they managed a ful turn of the spit.
Beads of sweat dripped from Ali’s forehead and she lifted her arm to wipe it from her face. “Has any of the water been boiled or heated? I have to get Cook to drink something.”
“Aye.” The woman pointed to an iron pot that hung toward the back of the flames.
“Thank you. You should get out of this heat, too, at least for a little while,” Ali suggested as she carried the pot to the table, her hands wrapped in linens. Although, despite her age, Ali thought the old woman looked in better con dition than the rest of them.
“Nay, I’m good, lass. I’ve no’ been here long.” She gave Ali a gap-toothed smile. 140
“I’l be back in a few minutes to help,” Ali said as she fil ed the last of the mugs. “I just have to get them to drink this and find some way to cool them off.”
“There’s a wel at the back of the kitchens. Throw a big bucket on Cook. It should do the trick.” Cackling, the woman walked to the other end of the room, wel away from the open flames.
Ali managed to get the mugs to her patients without spil ing more than a few drops. The girls drank greedily. She held the mug to Cook’s mouth, trying to get him to drink, but had little success. “Girls, you make him drink, slowly though, and I’l get some water from the wel .”
“I can help ye, my lady,” the petite girl with the curly brown hair offered. Ali noted her flushed cheeks. “As long as you think you’re up to it.”
“Aye, I’ve been workin’ in the kitchens fer a long time. This day’s worse than most, but I’m more accustomed to it than the other girls.”
“Thank you . . .”
“Katrina, my lady.”
With Katrina’s help Ali wet down Cook, the girls, and un
intentional y herself. They helped to settle Cook beneath the big oak tree she’d spotted not far from the wel . The girls in
sisted they were fine and accompanied her back to the kitchen. In companionable silence, Ali and the young girls, along with the old woman, worked together. Ali was regu
lated to more of a fetch-and-carry position, which suited her just fine. Their assumption that her lack of knowledge was a result of her being a lady worked in Ali’s favor. Drenched with perspiration and splattered with grease, her cornflower blue gown hung on her like a rag. Ali sank onto a stool and surveyed the three trestle tables that groaned under the weight of the food. “That’s it, ladies. There’s enough here to feed an army.”
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