Edwina (5 page)

Once alone she peeked inside the door and saw
servant’s stairs curling upward. Not hearing anything, she tiptoed
up the stairs, each step announcing her position, and looked down
the hallway. She hid in an alcove at the sound of footsteps.

Edwina watched as they opened a door and
hurried inside. The feeling of excitement followed them.

This is none of my
affair.
Her conscience pricked, yet her
heart beat faster.

She made her way down the
stairs to the first floor, slipped on her shoes, and found an exit
at the back. Large glass doors opened to her touch. The handle was
a beautiful black iron piece shaped like a question mark without
the dot. Her feet stepped onto a large gray stone patio surrounded
by riotous red and white flowers and greenery hanging from white
lattice screens. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Like
the book
The Secret
Garden
. She was a child again.

Pad and pencil in hand she found a stone path
and followed it, the party above stairs forgotten. It would be dark
soon, so she hurried along gazing at the succulent plants,
fingering the tender new ivy. Walking this way and that, she forgot
to remember the way back, but surely one could not get lost? She
had a good sense of direction. It would be no problem. Right now
she had only this eve and tomorrow to see it all... and see it all
she would.

Sometime later she began to trip over the
stones as the darkness fell over the quiet garden, and with all the
hanging vines and flowers, it was difficult to see the pathway.
After several turns, she could see lights from the windows on the
third floor that helped to guide her through the head-high
labryinth. Then as she sensed she was nearing the castle, lights
along the pathway lit. Of course the property and grounds would
have lighting. She smiled. Everything was so perfect.

As she rounded a huge tree, several dogs
began barking. Oh no... she hated being cornered by dogs. And no
doubt these were guard dogs—they wouldn’t know her.

She rushed to put her back to the tree for
protection and held her pad in front of her face.

Three large dogs came running toward her. The
bark dug into her back. What should she do? No one would hear
her... they were all inside at Mr. Dunnegin’s birthday party.

“Nice doggies. Nice doggies,” she repeated
over and over, to no avail. The barking only became louder as she
spoke. It seemed like an hour had passed. She was in the soup
now.

“Ah, my dogs have found my guest.” She heard
the Scot’s booming voice before he appeared out of the
darkness.

“Fife, Bailey, Duke, hush!”

At the owner’s command, the dogs stopped
barking and sat down by their master, doe-eyed.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you.” Edwina sighed.
“I was beginning to think I might be sleeping against this tree
tonight.”

“You seem to always be in need of rescuing.”
He laughed, but she could see he was not exactly happy to be
outdoors looking for a wayward guest. An unwanted guest at
that.

“I am so very sorry... again it seems. I try
to stay out of your way and only make things worse.” She eyed the
dogs.

“Come.” He offered his hand.

Edwina gladly accepted. Her knees were shaky
and the uneven ground could be treacherous at this late hour.

As soon as her footing was sure, she released
herself from his warm grasp. That in itself was a dream. The hand-
some Scot holding her hand. She must make note of that on her
pad.

As they entered the castle through the glass
door, Bertilda came around the corner. “Lass, ye have been
trouble.”

The Scot smiled and released his guest to his
maid. Edwina heard the echo of his boots.

“Have ye Americans no sense? This day is
verra important to the household. Tis the laird’s day of birth, and
ye are keeping him from his celebration.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. Come now, move yer feet. We must
find suitable clothing for ye. And a bath... yer hair... yer hair
has sticks in it.”

Edwina’s hand went to her hair.

“Pick up yer pace, we have much work to
do.”

“But I don’t want... I shouldn’t be at the
party.... I’m just a guest, not a friend of the family. Besides, he
already knows I have work to do.”

Her sentence was cut off with spit and
vinegar. “If the laird says ye are to attend, ye are to attend.
I’ll hear no more aboot it.”

And Edwina knew she wouldn’t.

Again in her room, the bath water gushing at
high speed, the woman was running from room to room seeking a dress
that would please her. Most of them she threw on the bed were too
small. Edwina knew she did not possess a tiny waist and stick-like
arms.

“Ah, this will do. Tis the dress . . .” A sad
look came across the matron’s face. “We have no other choice—put it
on. I will add some decorations to make it look not so . . . so
familiar,” she whispered and hurried away.

Edwina allowed herself to be dressed
wondering what was so special about this dress.

“Now, there.”

Bertilda turned, but there was a tear in her
eye. Edwina was sure of it.

“Have I... have I ruined the dress somehow?”
she asked quietly, looking down.

“What? What makes you say that?” came the
tart reply.

“Oh nothing . . .”

“Well, sit. We have to swirl that thick hair
upward. And it’s barely dry from your bath.” Edwina sat and when
she rose again was decently attired.

The dark emerald color of the dress displayed
her simple beauty. The cut was empire, rather old fashioned, yet
unpretentious. It was not satin, like the turquoise worn by Ilana,
but it was nicer than anything she’d ever owned. She slipped her
feet into the black flats. Bertie could find no other shoes in such
a short time. “They’ll have to do,” she said, her nose
wrinkled.

Edwina ran her hand along the sleeve. It was
soft. “Rather nice,” Bertilda stated. Had that been a
compliment?

“
Yes, ye will do. Now
follow me... and try to stay aboot the place. Laird Dunnegin has
spent enough time fishing you out of your troubles.”

Edwina’s eyebrows went up. Yet what Bertie
said was true.

“Don’t fidget,” came the call over the
woman’s shoulder.

How did Bertie know she was fidgeting? She
certainly must have eyes in the back of her very stiff-necked head.
Edwina suppressed a nervous gasp. She was headed to her doom. She
could feel it. Cecelia should have been here, not her.

Her nerves were beginning to tingle, and from
experience Edwina knew that was not a good sign.

She lifted the dress which
swirled around her ankles, grateful the soft fabric covered her
legs because they were not long and fashionable. Besides that, her
black flats were rather worn. How
did
she get into a situation like
this?

Before she could answer her own question,
Bertie came to a set of double doors and pushed them open with both
hands. Edwina felt like the dirty cinder girl following the wicked
stepmother to the dungeon.

Suddenly she was shoved into a whirlwind.
Instruments played from a corner and servants hustled about with
trays while the well dressed guests stood in small groups talking
and gesturing grandly. What had she to do with all this?

“Oh no ye don’t.” Bertie grabbed her arm as
Edwina turned back to exit the door they’d just entered. “Ye are
the Laird’s guest.”

Edwina was left to her own devices when
Bertie was called away.

Her hands, already sweating in the
elbow-length gloves she wore, didn’t seem to know what to do. Down
at her side they went, then up again at her waist, then crossed
over her chest... but that was not good body language. That she
knew from a book she’d read only recently.

“Ah, my American guest,” came the deep voice
of the Scot from somewhere in the crowd.

Edwina could not stop the flush of red that
crept to her face. How disgusting. Why hadn’t she read anything
about how to keep her face from turning apple red when she was
embarrassed?

Before long the small crowd had separated
revealing the very handsome, very tall Scot. Her knight in shining
armor to be sure, for there he was dressed in a kilt, a sword
actually dangling from his side.

Edwina’s eyes widened. She knew what Scots
wore beneath such attire. Read that in a book too. Further
embarrassing herself for the thought, her face turned a deeper red,
if it were possible, and for some odd reason she couldn’t catch her
breath.

She forced her eyes away
from him to gather her wits while he made his way toward her, then
her gaze fell on the beautiful and angry Ilana.
Oh dear
.

“Miss Edwina Blair, my guest from America.”
He stood a full eight inches above her head. She had not noted the
vast difference in their height. She was five feet and six inches,
not short by any means.

Had he actually remembered her name?
Fundamentally, it seemed important right at the moment. She wanted
to knock herself in the head... he had seen her papers. Duh! So
what now? Was she supposed to curtsy to the birthday boy? It was
all too much. Hopefully when she opened her mouth something elegant
would come out.

But it didn’t.

“Sir... I wish you a happy fortieth
birthday,” she said and smiled until she heard the gasp of the
crowd.

Her eyes darted around the room before they
fell on Miss Ilana’s. The beautiful black eyes were surely
pleased.

Somehow she had made a huge blunder. The
people were now whispering behind their hands.

So much for protocol and
pretense
. And thank the heavens above she
would be gone tomorrow. That thought alone kept her knees straight.
She would not fall to the floor in a faint to cover her obvious
error... which was what?

Suddenly Mr. Dunnegin laughed aloud again.
Booming laughter. “Ye have added ten years on me life,” he said,
his brogue strong.

Edwina’s heart fell to her stomach in one
fell swoop. So that was it. He had said he was thirty, not
forty?

“I shall hope to be the father of many heirs
by then.” He laughed and took her arm, leading her through the
crowd like a ship crashing through the icy seas.

“Don’t tremble, lass. Tis all right,” he
leaned his head down and whispered.

“Aye, for you maybe,” she whispered back,
which only caused him to laugh again at her attempt at the Scottish
language.

Ilana must be ready to dump her body in the
North Sea, which wasn’t very far from where they stood. Edwina
again wiggled out of his gentle grasp and said, “Where is the
ladies room?”

“There.” He pointed, then took her hand and
put it back on his arm. “Not so quickly. I have guests who wish to
meet you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“They wish to visit Chicago or New York. They
have not decided, and since they’ve not been to your country, they
would like to inquire of you which would be most suitable.”

Edwina slipped in a full breath. “Is that
all? I can handle that,” she said proudly. “I live near Chicago and
have been to New York. Twice.”

“
Then you shall find no
harm in discussing your American cities?”

“I shall not.” she returned his amused
gaze.

He had the greenest eyes. They matched the
blue and green plaid he wore, making his weathered, tan face even
more handsome, if that were possible. Oh that Cecelia were here now
to see her plain little sister walking on the arm of a Scottish
laird.

Before long she had been introduced to an
elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie, who were well-to-do by the
looks of their fine clothing. Mr. Dunnegin, having bowed politely,
left them to their conversation.

“Shall we find a seat?” the gentleman asked,
his brogue much more pronounced than Mr. Dunnegin’s.

“Of course.” Edwina tried to sound
elegant.

The older man seated his wife with great
gentleness and then her. “Now, it seems we are aboot to travel to
your country to see our son, and we wish more than anything to
visit New York or Chicago. Our son, Sean Patrick Gillespie, lives
in Boston. He attends the university there. We will have precisely
two weeks to see the sites.”

That seemed to be the only introduction
because the two waited for her response.

“Wonderful. Boston University is a good
school.” She removed her gloves and set them across her lap. She
couldn’t think straight in such a formal setting.

They smiled.

And for the next half hour, Edwina told them
all she knew. The evening had been saved after all. The elderly
couple apparently enjoyed her every word; Edwina noticed their
gentle smiles and affirmation.

When, finally, they had been called away to
dance, Edwina found herself alone in the corner, lurking behind the
palm leaf foliage and enjoying the scene before her. Violins
played, couples danced, others talked, some picked up small plates
and filled them with all sorts of unfamiliar little sandwiches and
treats.

Alex Dunnegin and his fiancée were not in her
view. Edwina was glad. Miss Ilana had not liked being upstaged by
the American guest.

“Here ye are, lass,” came the booming voice,
just when Edwina had begun to relax. Suddenly he stopped in
midstride just two feet from her and stared.

What was wrong? Her mind flew in all
directions. Had she done something wrong—again? Should she stand or
stay seated? Her legs had no strength so she sat beneath his
intense gaze, her face turning crimson.

“What is it? Have I . . .” She looked down in
the direction where he was staring.

“The dress. Where did ye get that dress?” He
sounded not angry, but sad.

“Bertie put it on me.” She knew her voice
sounded weak. “Did I... is there something wrong?”