Devil of the Highlands (Devil of the Highlands #1)(11)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Feeling better now that she had a plan, Evelinde caught up her skirt and crossed the great hall to the door Fergus had disappeared through. As expected, she found herself in the kitchens when she stepped inside. What she hadn’t expected was to find it completely occupied by females. The kitchen at d’Aumesbery had both male and female workers. Aside from the rotund little male cook who ran the kitchens, there were several younger, strong male servants to do the heavy work, such as preparing boars for the spit and so on. However there wasn’t a single male in evidence in Donnachaidh’s kitchens. Even Fergus was gone. Obviously, there was another door leading out of the kitchens because he hadn’t come back the way he’d entered.

Evelinde’s gaze slid around the room, running over the women of varying ages until it landed on Biddy. Much to her surprise it appeared the woman who had acted as her lady’s maid was really in charge of the kitchens. At least, she was the one waving a large knife and barking orders at the other women bustling about as she paused in carving up a chicken.

A sudden splash of sunlight drew her attention to the door Fergus must have used to exit, and Evelinde watched curiously as a man, thin and somewhat gnarled by time, entered. He glanced toward Biddy, then almost seemed to tiptoe along that wall of the kitchen until he reached what appeared to be a tray of cooling pastries.

"Get away from those pasties, Scatchy, or ye’ll be losing a finger," Biddy snapped without glancing up. "Fergus has already tried that, and I’ve no patience for ye men this morning."

Old and grizzled, Scatchy stared mournfully at the tray he stood beside and turned a scowl on Biddy. "Yer a cruel woman, me lady, making them and no letting us have any."

Evelinde gave a start at the title. Me lady? Her gaze swung back to Biddy, her eyes widening as she peered at her dress. All she’d noticed in her room was the apron, Evelinde hadn’t taken heed of the gown beneath, which was far too rich to be a servant’s. Who the devil was she and what was she doing acting as lady’s maid and working in the kitchens? Evelinde wondered. Her husband had not mentioned any female family. But then he hadn’t mentioned male family either, though she knew he had a cousin named Tavis, at least she thought Tavis was the cousin. One of the few comments Fergus had made to Cullen on the journey to Donnachaidh was that mayhap they shouldn’t have left his cousin behind with the others because the man was likely to get waylaid by the first likely female and forget to return. Cullen had grunted and said that the other men would keep Tavis in line.

"Ye can have a pasty at the nooning along with everyone else," Biddy said unsympathetically. "Now be off with ye and go back to yer stables ere I mistake ye for one of me chickens."

She added an exclamation mark to the comment by slamming her knife down and slicing cleanly through a leg on the dead and plucked bird.

Shaking his head, the man made his way to the door, slowing to offer Evelinde a wide, toothless smile as he passed.

"Go on!" Biddy yelled, and glanced up to cast a glare at the man, which was replaced by surprise as she spotted Evelinde by the door.

"Lass!" Setting down her knife, the woman wiped her hands on the apron around her waist as she rushed to her side. "Yer up. Cullen thought ye’d sleep most of the afternoon away when he came back below."

Evelinde tried not to blush. "Nay. I slept through most of the journey here."

"Oh. Well, would ye like something to break yer fast?"

"If ‘twould be no trouble," Evelinde said.

"No trouble at all," Biddy assured her. "Just take yerself on out and sit at the table, and I’ll send a maid out with some mead and a pasty. Or would ye prefer some cheese and bread?"

"A pasty sounds lovely, but there’s no need to send it out. I shall just eat it here. I have some questions to ask if it would not trouble you," she explained.

"Of course ye have questions. Come on over here then." Biddy led her back to where she’d been working when Evelinde had entered, pausing beside a bit of clean counter not far away, then glanced around, her gaze stopping on a young blond maid chopping vegetables. "Mary! Bring that stool over here fer the lass."

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."