Devil of the Highlands (9 page)

The girl stopped her chopping to pick up the stool and hurry over with it as Biddy then shouted for another servant to fetch a pasty and some mead for her.

"There ye are," Biddy said once she had Evelinde seated at the clean bit of counter with both food and drink.

"Ye go ahead and ask what yer wanting to ken. I'll just keep working if ye doona mind."

"I do not mind," Evelinde assured her, then hesitated, unsure how to phrase her questions. Finally, she simply blurted, "Who are you?"

Biddy paused and raised surprised eyes to her, and said, "I introduced myself, lass. I'm Elizabeth Duncan, did ye forget? Did ye take a blow to the head in that fall from yer horse?" Frowning with concern, she set her knife down and moved toward Evelinde as if to examine her head.

"Nay, nay, I am fine," Evelinde assured her quickly, holding up her hands to ward her off. "I did not forget your name, 'tis just that Scatchy called you my lady, and I did not realize—I mean, when you helped me with my bath I thought you were a maid, and then I came in here and you are obviously in charge of the kitchens, but Scatchy called you my lady, and yet my husband did not mention having female relatives. Though, he did not mention male relatives either. In truth, he has said little to me at all except to give me orders," she added with irritation.

Then, seeing how Biddy was staring at her silent and eyes wide, ended apologetically, "Not that any of that matters except to explain that I fear I am not sure who you are."

Much to her amazement, Biddy—or Lady Biddy—appeared to be struggling not to laugh. For the life of her, Evelinde couldn't think what was so amusing. She herself was terribly embarrassed by her lack of knowledge and more than a little angry at her husband for leaving her in such an ignorant state.

"Eat yer sweet, lass," Biddy said finally, managing to keep a straight face. "I shall explain all while ye eat."

Heaving out a little sigh, Evelinde reached for her mead and took a sip as the woman began to speak.

"I am Cullen's aunt," Biddy announced as she returned to pick up her knife once more. "Tavis is my son, and Darach was my husband."

Evelinde's eyes widened incredulously as she recognized the name of the uncle Cullen was said to have killed. She bit her lip and watched silently as the woman set back to work cutting up the chicken for what appeared to be a stew. "But why are you working in the kitchens?"

Biddy grinned. "Ye make it sound like some form of punishment."

"Well…" Evelinde glanced around, reluctant to insult the woman by saying she thought it must be, but her expression must have spoken for her, because the woman laughed.

"I like to cook," she assured her with amusement. "I always have. I used to hang about, pestering our cook at MacFarlane when I was a child. Of course, my mother deplored the oddity and tried to steer me away from it, and did manage to until I had a home of my own, but once here, I returned to pestering the cook here in her kitchens. She taught me a thing or two just to make me let her be… and because she didn't have a choice since I was her lady," she added wryly. "And over the years I've done more and more in the kitchens."

"And your husband did not mind?" Evelinde asked curiously. Her own father would have been horrified to find her mother working in the kitchens.

"My husband did not care what I did so long as I was happy and not nagging after him," she said wryly.

"Oh," Evelinde murmured.

"And it turns out my pasties and some of my other dishes are so good, none of the men complain," Biddy added with a grin, then said more seriously, "I am not in the kitchens all the time. I merely help out on occasion, or take over for Cook when she needs to be away. Right now she is away for a couple of days visiting her daughter, so I get to play cook until her return."

"Oh," Evelinde said again, then cleared her throat, and said, "Well, thank you very much for helping me with my bath."

Biddy chuckled. "What else could I do? I'd sent the servants away. Besides, it gave me a chance to get to know you a little. I am just sorry I did not realize you had no idea who I was, else I would have explained.

Now"—she waved her knife toward the pasty she'd had fetched for her, and ordered—"eat. Yer body needs sustenance to heal, and pasties are my specialty."

Evelinde managed a smile and picked up the pasty. She sighed as flavor exploded in her mouth with the first bite, even as the pastry seemed to melt away to nothing on her tongue. "Oh, this is lovely, my lady. So sweet and flaky."

Biddy flushed with pleasure at the compliment. " 'Tis my specialty. Everyone at Donnachaidh loves 'em. Especially Fergus. That man's in here at least ten times a day trying to steal one. They go quick, so I'll be sure to keep a couple extra aside fer ye each time I do."

"Aye, please do," Evelinde murmured, then took another bite, marveling at how good they were. She'd always thought the cook at d'Aumesbery was good, but he'd never made anything like this. In truth, she didn't think the man was big on sweets, though.

"Would ye like another?" Biddy asked, as Evelinde finished off the first.

"Yes, but I shall get it," Evelinde said quickly. Standing, she moved to where the tray of fresh pasties sat, took one and returned to her stool. Before taking a bite, she asked, "Are you castellan here then, my lady?"

"Biddy," she insisted, blue eyes twinkling. "Or Aunt Biddy if ye like."

"Thank you… Aunt Biddy," Evelinde said quietly, touched at such a generous offer of acceptance.

Biddy nodded her satisfaction, and said, "Aye. I was mistress here when my husband was laird, of course.

When he died, and Liam—Cullen's father," she paused to explain, before continuing, "Liam's wife had died long ere that, and he had never remarried, so I remained castellan here for him. And then continued to when he died, and Cullen took over. At least, until he married, then little Maggie was mistress here."

"Were you sorry to step down?" Evelinde asked, worried she was about to displace the woman.

Biddy looked surprised by the question, then chuckled, shaking her head. "Truth to tell, I rather enjoyed being free of the burden during those two years. I got to spend more time in the kitchens. Though," she admitted with a grimace, "little Maggie hated when I did that. She thought it was beneath me." Biddy rolled her eyes, and said solemnly, "Trust me, lass, no task is beneath ye if ye enjoy it. There is real pleasure to be found in making a fine meal, especially if ye hunt it up yerself, clean it, and turn it into a tasty feast. 'Tis most satisfying," she assured her. "Much more satisfying than ordering servants about and dealing with tradespeople."

Evelinde nodded solemnly. She looked down at the oversized gown she wore, then back to the woman, as Biddy hacked the second leg off the chicken and threw it in a pot. "Little Maggie?"

Biddy chuckled at the question. "Nay. The woman was huge; tall, round, and buxom. But she was smaller than her mother, big Maggie, by an inch or two so she was 'little Maggie.' "

"Oh." Evelinde tried to imagine a woman bigger than the one who had owned the dress she wore but found it difficult.

"I'm sure yer mother trained ye well to be castellan, but if ye need any help, lass, or have any questions, ye just have to ask. And I'll even stay out of the kitchens if yer family come to visit and ye'd be too embarrassed to have them know I putter about in here on occasion."

"Thank you," Evelinde murmured, "but that won't be necessary. Both my parents are dead. My mother died some years ago and my father two years past. There are only my brother and stepmother left."

"Oh, I'm sorry, lass," she said sincerely. "There's nothing harder than losing a loved one."

"Aye." Evelinde frowned as she saw the grief flicker briefly over the older woman's face, suspecting she'd made her think of her lost husband. She sought her mind for something to say to cheer them both, raising the pasty to her lips as she did. The sweet melting on her tongue made her add, "Besides, I see nothing wrong with you working in here if you like it. Especially if I get pasties out of it."

Biddy smiled, the grief swept away by pride and pleasure as she assured her, "Ye will, lass."

Evelinde glanced at the women working so industriously as she took another sip of mead, then asked, "Why are there no men in the kitchens? At d'Aumesbery we had men to help with the heavy work."

"Fergus helps out if he's in the kitchens," Betty said, then added, "And he's often in the kitchens. The man is thin as a whip, but is always grabbing something to eat."

Evelinde's eyebrows rose slightly at the wry affection on the woman's face.

"It would be a blessing to have a couple of men working in here permanent-like," Biddy continued.

"Unfortunately, they are kept busy guarding the walls and training fer battle. It leaves just the women to tend to everything else."

"Are there so few men?" she asked with surprise.

"Nay. Well…" Biddy paused, then said, "There are fewer men than women here at Donnachaidh, that's certain. Too many good men have been lost in battles, but it's no as bad as it used to be. Liam worked hard to make alliances after Darach's death, and Cullen himself has continued those efforts. We hardly see battle at all anymore. And then many of the daughters who have married outsiders have brought them home to Donnachaidh with them, which has increased the number of males, too. 'Tis probably close to equal again."

Evelinde nodded slowly before she asked, "If the men are rarely needed for battle anymore, why do some of them not help out in the kitchens now? I realize they still must train, but surely one or two would not be missed, and it would make it easier to have men in here to do the heavy lifting and such."

Biddy paused in her cutting to glance at her with surprise, and finally said, "Well, aye, but… 'Tis the way it's always been."

Evelinde let the matter drop but tucked it away in her mind as something to discuss with Cullen. '
Tis the way
it's always been
was not a reason to keep doing something if there was a better way. She saw no reason why a couple of men could not be spared to help out with the heavy work in the kitchens.

"So, the men are all out guarding the wall or practicing in the bailey?" she asked, setting her empty mug on the counter.

Biddy snorted at the suggestion. "Nay. They are all out in the paddock celebrating yer wedding."

Evelinde raised her eyebrows in surprise, and asked, "Celebrating our wedding in the paddock?"

"Aye." Biddy grinned at her bewilderment. "They'll be drinking ale and baiting old Angus. He's a bull," she explained before Evelinde could ask. "A mean old bull with a nasty temper. Anytime there's something to celebrate, the men take a couple of barrels of ale down to the paddock and bait the poor bugger. Then they'll run across the paddock with him chasing them to prove their courage and speed. Some will even wrestle the mean beast."

"This is their idea of celebrating?" she asked with amazement.

Biddy laughed, and said, "They're men," as if that explained it.

Evelinde shook her head, and asked, "And what will the women do to celebrate?"

Biddy paused again, surprise once more on her face. "We've no time fer celebrating, lass. We've too much work to do around here to take the time."

Evelinde frowned. "So the men practice at swords or celebrate while the women do all the work?"

"Aye." Biddy nodded and turned back to hacking at her chicken. " 'Tis the way it's always been."

"I see," Evelinde murmured, "Will my husband be there celebrating as well?"

"No doubt," Biddy said. "He was carrying one of the barrels of ale when he left."

"I think I shall go speak to him, but when I return I shall probably pester you with more questions, if 'tis all right? I was castellan at d'Aumesbery since my mother's death, but every castle is different, and I—"

"Yer stepmother didna take up the role as castellan when she married yer father?" Biddy interrupted with surprise.

Evelinde wrinkled her nose. "Edda preferred to be a lady of leisure."

"Ah." Biddy nodded in understanding. "Well, welcome to Donnachaidh, lass. We have no ladies of leisure here but are glad to have ye. I'd be more than happy to help ye settle in and figure out what is what. Ye come talk to me when ye're ready."

"Thank you." Evelinde squeezed the woman's shoulder in affectionate appreciation as she stood up, then turned to leave the kitchens.

Her gaze swept over the great hall as she crossed it. For a keep kept mostly by women, it was very plain, with little that would not be considered necessities. There were the tables arranged in a squared-off u shape in the center and two chairs by the fire, but both were square and without any sort of cushion. They didn't look particularly inviting. And that was it for the great hall. While there were rushes on the floor, there were no tapestries on the walls, or even any whitewashing, she noted with a frown, and had to wonder if Cullen's first wife had really preferred it this way, or if it had been more inviting while she'd lived but had since been emptied out.

The sight of the barren walls reminded Evelinde of the two tapestries she had left behind. Her father had purchased them for her mother during their marriage. The first depicted Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, and the second featured a unicorn and a lady. Both had hung in the great hall at d'Aumesbery until Edda's arrival. On learning they had been gifts to his previous wife, the woman insisted they be removed. She'd done away with anything having to do with the first Lady d'Aumesbery.