The Laird's Captive Wife(54)
She regarded him with real surprise and for a moment found it hard to speak, not least for the warmth of his touch and his look. Then she shook her head. ‘Thank you, but no. It will not be easy, as you say, but it must be faced. Besides, I would not put a damper on other people’s enjoyment and neither would Ban.’
‘Neither would I…what?’ inquired a voice behind them.
Ashlynn turned to see her brother. ‘Iain was asking whether we wished the Yuletide feast to be abandoned this year on account of what happened to Heslingfield.’
Ban met his sister’s gaze and held it. Then he turned to look at Iain. ‘No, my lord, not for the world would I have you do so. Rather, let the occasion be held as it always was at Heslingfield. In that way all the right memories may be kept alive.’
He reached for his sister’s hand and squeezed it. Ashlynn managed to return his smile. The sight of it pierced Iain to the heart.
* * *
The following day the fine weather broke and the grey sky grew leaden, threatening snow. The wind was bitter. One brief exposure to that icy blast on the roof terrace sent Ashlynn hurrying back to the warmth of her room. She had not been there very long before someone knocked on the door. Feeling sure it would be Ban she bade the caller enter. However, it was a very different figure that appeared on the threshold.
‘Good morning, Ashlynn.’ Iain surveyed her in silence for a moment and then smiled faintly. ‘May I come in?’
Gathering her wits she answered in the affirmative and watched him step into the room. Then he turned and beckoned to someone without. To her astonishment four women entered, all total strangers and all of them carrying a variety of large bags and bundles. They smiled as they made their duty to her. In bemusement Ashlynn looked from them to him.
‘Madame and her assistants have just arrived from Dunfermline. They’ll be staying with us for a few days.’
‘Will they?’
For the first time she realised he carried under his arm several bolts of cloth which he laid on the bed. His companions bore several more. Soon the fur coverlet was transformed into a riot of colour.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘Your new wardrobe, my lady,’ he said, ‘or the basis for it, at least.’
‘New wardrobe?’
‘Aye, and not before time.’ He eyed her homespun gown with disfavour. ‘Since the day I first saw it I’ve wanted to get that ghastly dress off you. I’d have done it a lot sooner but the ladies here had commitments at the royal court and could not be spared.’
‘They’ve come from the royal court?’
‘That’s right.’
Incredulous and speechless Ashlynn watched him cross to the door again. He paused on the threshold.
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
With that he was gone. Ashlynn tried to gather her scattered wits and turned to look at the rolls of cloth on the bed. The elder seamstress hastened to fetch the azure silk. Drawing out a length she held it against Ashlynn.
‘The colour looks well on you, my lady.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she replied, running her fingers over the surface of the material. ‘I never saw anything so fine.’ It was no more than the truth. Never would she have dreamed of owning such a gown.
However, before she had finished admiring the blue, Madame gestured to an assistant to fetch a bolt of red velvet, considering it intently, letting her gaze rest on Ashlynn’s face and hair a moment and thence to the slender form below, taking in the whole picture.
‘This will also look well,’ she said. Seeing Ashlynn remain silent, the seamstress regarded her keenly. ‘Does the cloth displease you, my lady?’
‘No, it’s beautiful. It’s just that I find it hard to choose between the two.’
‘No need, my lady,’ replied the other, ‘since we are to make half-a-dozen new gowns.’
For a moment Ashlynn was rooted to the spot. Half-a-dozen new gowns! Never in her life had she been permitted more than one new dress at a time and, even then, not in fabrics like these. Madame smiled.
‘So we keep the red I think.’
‘I, er…yes.’
The red bolt joined the blue.
* * *
Half an hour later those two had been joined by four others in gold, cerise, forest green and mauve. Then she found herself being measured by the giggling assistants. From time to time Madame spoke to them in the French tongue, apparently giving detailed instructions. Ashlynn looked on in awed silence. She dreaded to think what all this must be costing. Never could she have envisaged so generous a gift. These cloths were sumptuous, fit for the royal court indeed. Apart from the dress material there were also lighter, finer fabrics of the type suitable for chemises and stockings. These too came under close scrutiny as Madame picked out the shades that would complement the rest. Then, when she had taken her client’s measurements, the dress patterns emerged from a leather bag. Ashlynn regarded them with concern.