Neither woman commented as they surveyed the empty hall from atop the stairs. Then they followed Alexander along the dark paneled corridor paralleled to the front of the manor. Huge arched doorways and narrow oblong paintings alternately lined the hallway. May-Jewel’s glance fell over the proud Scots. The pictures boasted of men, less than handsome in her opinion, dressed in flowing tartans and ancient breacan feile with their scroll butted pistols and hilted swords strapped to their sides. She envisioned them in battle. My ancestors no doubt. How grim-faced and pampered by heritage they were. Well, I guess there’s nothing wrong with having a heritage nor being pampered. She tilted her small pointed chin at the pictures in an approving manner. How could she have ignored the Craig blood that beat wildly in her heart all her life? Perhaps its pulse was strangled by Boston’s starched society. Whatever it was, she couldn’t deny the ancestral calling that surged through her the first moment that she set foot on Scottish soil. With her eyes, she had made love to the cool mountains, had mentally hugged the wind-swept lakes that wandered like lazy yawning kittens through the valleys to join their sea mother. The purple pink heather wasn’t even in full bloom, yet May-Jewel couldn’t resist its addicting fragrance as it fused with the sun-sweetened mist to perfume the lowlands.
“I’m home,” she whispered, smiling up at the somber portraits.
Katherine, agitated with May-Jewel’s delight in Wistmere and its ancient portraits, walked past the paintings. With a renewed rigidity, she mentally denounced the ancestors who gave birth to the one who had all but ignored her. As the trio drew closer to the end of the corridor, Katherine focused her gaze on Alexander’s broad back.
“Mister Fleming,” she said.
“Alex, if you will,” he responded, turning toward her.
Ignoring the attempted familiarity he offered, she repeated, “Mister Fleming, how long had you been with Sir Robert?”
“Before I answer that, or any of the hundreds of questions you might have, I suggest that you allow yourselves a moment to rest from your long journey. Perhaps you would like to nap before we dine? That will give us all plenty of time to gather our thoughts.”
Or think up other excuses for the sad state of affairs here, Katherine thought bitterly.
He stopped before a mahogany door and pushed it open. “This is your room, Mistress Belwood. May I call you May-Jewel and,” he turned to Katherine, “you Katherine?”
The women exchanged glances. May-Jewel smiled, saying, “Of course.” Although Katherine thought better of it, she acquiesced and nodded.
Alex smiled, and thought, One wall removed, even though a small one. “Hot water will be brought up shortly.”
May-Jewel stepped into the chamber and stopped short as she looked about it. “Oh, my! This room is even drearier than the room we had at the inn last night.”
Katherine peered past her half-sister and held her nose. The bedroom reeked of mold and disuse, as if the heavy, crimson drapes and windows hadn’t been opened to let sunlight and air in for years. The dark and cumbersome archaic furnishings had been designed to host the forms of overly frocked women in a more garish time. The bed was even bare of a mattress which made its towering headboard look as if it were about to topple over.
May-Jewel retreated into the hall unable to breathe the stagnant air.
Alex, having followed her into the room, stood flustered. “Oh, I’m–I’m sorry. I had only arrived at the manor a few hours before you. I trusted Charles to see to these preparations days ago.” He crossed the room and impatiently jerked the cord near the bed to summon the servant. “I’ll personally see to it that this room is made ready as soon as possible.”
Nervously raking his hand through a fallen tuft of hair, he made a silent vow that there would be no more errors to jeopardize his plans of winning the women over to him. So much had already gone wrong. He, too, had seen the wretched little creature that sought shelter in the tattered sofa, and that alone was unforgivable. But how does one prevent vermin from finding their way inside? On top of that, he now saw that this bed chamber was unprepared and smelled vile. He cursed himself for he knew that he should have gotten to the manor sooner and shouldn’t have left such important preparations to a useless old man.
Charles quietly entered the room, closing the door behind him. May-Jewel, still in the hall with Katherine, leaned against the thick door to listen as Alex verbosely chastised the servant in a language that she hadn’t heard before.
Admonishingly raising her eyebrows at May-Jewel’s lack of propriety, Katherine said, “Why not simply ask Mister Fleming what he said when he comes out?”
Before May-Jewel could reply, Charles exited the room and shuffled down the hall. Alex approached the women.
“It seems Charles had prepared another bedchamber which you both will have to share for the time being. Seems we have a shortage of bed linen.” An anxious smile darted across his mouth, then disappeared. “I’m told that the other room is in a better state. This way please.”
The second chamber was only half way down the hall. Alex opened the door slowly.
“Ah,” he uttered with relief, “this is much better.”
Although this room was also furnished with ancient furniture, like that of the previous chamber, at least the maroon drapes were pulled open to allow the sun’s afternoon rays to enter, giving the chamber a pleasant glow. A huge bed, with a thick mattress and crown-shaped headboard, stood against the wall. A blazing fire in the fireplace aided further in cheering up the room.
Standing motionless, Katherine scanned the bedchamber. For years she had envisioned a luxurious bedchamber with soft velvet covered furniture, brightly patterned quilts, plush carpeting and gold
