“Aye, my lady, certainly.”
Mairead walked to the south tower with her head up and her back straight. When she reached her solar, she still seethed with anger at Oren. She decided to do some needlework, but was too frustrated to focus on it. After picking out the third mistake, she put it away. Irritated, she paced, trying to figure out what her mother would do. In fact, she didn’t know what her mother would do because no servant at Carraigile would have behaved as some at Cnocreidh had today.
Her eyes roamed to the parchment on the desk, and she badly wanted to write her mother a letter. And say what? Will I run tattling after my mama who has only just left and tell her my new clan isn’t being nice to me? But how dare the steward ignore me? Suddenly she found the irony of the situation extremely amusing. She had spent most of her life choosing to be in the background, hoping to be ignored, and now she was getting her wish.
Maybe she was being too hard on them. There had not been a “Lady Matheson” in residence for over ten years. Perhaps everyone needed some time to adjust. She sighed loudly, her anger finally dissipating, and she resolved to try again tomorrow. She picked up her needlework again, finally able to focus on it.
As evening fell and her solar grew cold, her irritation returned. Apparently, whoever Elspet asked to tend the hearth had either misunderstood or ignored the request. She put her needlework away and descended to the great hall. She intended to ask again for someone to tend her hearth. However, Tadhg and his men had just returned from training, and the servants were busy preparing for the evening meal, so she did not interrupt.
Eight
Things did not improve. Oren did not come to the keep the next day. He sent his wife to Elspet with a message saying he was still ill. He also sent instructions directing Elspet and Ide in their work for the day. Mairead was angry and frustrated by this. Still, she did not want to create unnecessary strife by interfering with the running of Cnocreidh until she had at least spoken with the steward. She remained silent and let his orders stand for the day. There had been so many visitors for the wedding, the staff was still cleaning and putting the keep to rights. In fairness, those would have been Mairead’s orders anyway. She tried to help throughout the morning, but once again was ignored or blatantly pushed aside. She wanted to review the account books and check inventories, but believed it would be presumptuous to simply take the books without first speaking with Oren. With nothing else to do, feeling at a loss and in the way, she retreated once more to her solar. Before leaving the great hall, she again asked Elspet to have someone tend the hearth for her.
Mairead spent most of the day alone, working on a tapestry again. She thought through all of the events of the last couple of days, trying to figure out what she had done wrong. She had tried to be polite and friendly, adopting the manner she used with the staff at Carraigile but the staff here rebuffed her at every turn. Perhaps she had misunderstood Tadhg. Maybe he did not want her to run his household, although she found this hard to believe. Still, it might be a good idea to make certain.
As the afternoon light faded, she began to squint at her needlework. Her solar grew dark and cold. She sighed in frustration. Her request for someone to tend to her hearth was being ignored yet again. She lit candles but rather than continuing to work on her tapestry, she went to the cabinet and removed her recorder. This was the first instrument she had learned to play as a child. Although the harp was a much more difficult instrument to master and therefore more impressive to most people, this recorder was her favorite because her grandfather had made it for her. She put it to her lips and began to play, losing herself in the music. She had only been playing for a few minutes when the door to the solar opened and she looked up to see Tadhg. “I’d say don’t stop, but it’s freezing in here. Ye should have asked for someone to lay the fire for ye.” He walked across the room to give her a kiss.
“I did, actually.”
He frowned. “And it wasn’t done? They should have at least done so when they stoked the fire in our bedchamber.”
“That was probably it. Perhaps they misunderstood me and tended the other hearth instead. I will sort it out,” she said casually. As difficult as this day had been and as easy as it would be to complain to him about it, she didn’t. Without a doubt, he would have fixed everything, but she needed to handle it or risk never gaining the staff’s respect.
“Our room is toasty warm. Let’s go in there, but bring the instrument, I want to hear ye play some more.”
She gave him a saucy grin. “Ye are asking me to join ye in our toasty warm bedchamber and ye want me to play my recorder?”