The Secret of Drulea Cottage, Betwixt the Sea and Shore: Book 1

The Joys of Old Men and Pregnant Women

After taking a few minutes to compose herself, Briony made her way down to the market. This was always one of her favorite places to go. There were so many sounds and smells permeating the air, and the entire space hummed with a special sort of energy. Apart from Everton Inn, the market square was the heart of the village, the place where news of the outside world spread to listening ears and rare trinkets could be attained for only a few coins. It was a tiny world of its own, one where Briony's money was just as good as everyone else's and she could pretend she wasn't the village outcast.

She wove her way past the first few merchants, who were trying to sell linens and jewelry at their stalls. They called to her charmingly, claiming they offered the latest fashions from England and Wales. She was tempted to stop, but she knew that if she did, she would spend more money than she ought to, so she marched past without a second glance at the alluring wares.

The man who normally sold her seafood was named Vincent McLaren, the second son of old Steven McLaren. Vincent was a smelly fellow with large ears and a portly belly. He had a habit of saying strange things that no one understood. Most people dismissed his words as the ravings of a lunatic, but Briony wasn't so sure. There was something about him that made her wonder if he knew more than people gave him credit for. He was also one of the only fishermen whose business wasn't completely controlled by the laird.

"Fish! Come get yer fresh fish here! Hello, Mistress Fairborn, would you like to buy a lovely trout this morneen? Caught one just two hours ago, and he put up quite a fight. I'm only asking fer my usual price. No doubt he'll taste delightful." He gestured toward the fish in question while giving her a practically toothless smile.

If Briony were to make a list of her greatest weaknesses, her temper would be at the top, but sea trout was definitely in the top five. She simply couldn't refuse to purchase it anytime it was available. It was a shame for her that Vincent also knew about that weakness because every time she came to the market, he would make sure she knew about his latest catch.

"You know me too well, Mr. McLaren. I'll take it," Briony replied as she stared at the trout. It lay between several cod and a few haddock, just waiting to be cooked. She moved a hand to her pocket to retrieve some money.

"Indeed, 'tis quite dangerous. Really, 'twould be too easy to guess. You should be more careful," he mumbled.

Faint alarm bells rang in her mind. "Is it such a danger?" Briony asked even though she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Truly 'tis, miss. If the others could only see the signs, they would get such a fright they might run you out o' the village." Vincent gave her a look as though she should know what he meant, but Briony was even more puzzled than before.

Signs o' what? I already give many o' them a fright, but . . . Why am I even trying to understand him? Most o' what he says does na make sense.

"Do you have any shrimp today?" she asked, hoping to change subjects. Mr. McLaren nodded and brought some into view from behind the stall. They looked fresh enough, so she said she would take them also.

She was just about to move on when she heard a throat clearing behind her. "That was my fish there, lass. Hand it over," demanded a nasal voice.

Briony winced and spun around to none other than Lady Oliver, the laird's wife.

The midwife twisted her face into a hard smile as she looked the older woman in the eye. Lady Oliver's wrinkled skin hung bulbously from her face, making her sneer even more grotesque. She claimed she was only forty years of age, but Briony suspected she was at least fifty. Today she wore an elaborate green dress with jewels around her throat, but all that beauty did nothing to hide the woman's overall ugliness, both inside and out.