Lady Eilean

Chapter 26

Over the next few weeks, I woke excited and energized. Newfound anticipation and zest for each day took root in my heart. It was a foreign feeling, but a welcome one. As the sun poked its head over the horizon, I catapulted out of bed. With little to do until the castle woke up, I took up the circuit I used to run with my brothers. A mad dash to the stables, followed by a hard ride. Return, bathe, and spend more time than I will admit deciding what to wear — my new gowns bright and crisp in my wardrobe. It was a luxury to choose between them. I had relegated my tattered and worn dresses to the rag bag, even that use far more generous than they deserved.

The late spring days were long and wistful, and golden sunshine never seemed to cease. The castle was rowdy and festive, infused with life from the visiting men. Though they were strangers, their presence felt recognizable, as if my brother's had returned. The castle, at last, felt like it was alive.

On a bright morning full of birdsong and the intoxicating scent of tulips, I sat at my mirror and brushed my unruly curls into a twist on top of my head. I added a bright yellow ribbon for extra exuberance. That small adornment made me feel bewitching. Caught up in the moment, I pinched my cheeks and even applied a dot of perfume under each ear. The long-forgotten bottles had sat unused on my vanity collecting dust. I wiped them down with a rag, enjoying the way the glass sparkled in the sunlight.

At the clock's chiming of eight o'clock, there came a knock at my door in a familiar pattern. Alex.

"Come in," I shouted, giving myself a once-over in the mirror, enjoying the picture.

I watched through the mirror as Alex pushed through the door, a gleaming silver coffee pot in one hand.

"My, my, aren't we fancy today?" Alex teased, a lopsided grin on his face.

"What are you doing with that coffee pot?" I asked, turning to face him.

He shrugged. "I thought we could have breakfast together. Skip all the commotion in the dining hall." Red stained his cheeks.

"Sure," I said deliberately, trying to understand this change in routine.

"I like the ribbon," Alex said, settling down on a couch before the fire. He placed the coffee pot on a low table.

As I stood up and walked toward him, Alex sniffed the air, "Perfume too? Whatever is the occasion?"

"Comment on my appearance and smell all you want when you've produced breakfast. Coffee served without cups or food is barely worth tolerating you for." I settled down on the couch beside him.

Alex laughed. "Breakfast is imminent. I know the demands to which I must perform." He winked. "When the food arrives, and I am in your good graces again, remind me to tell you you look very lovely. You are beautiful."

"What's on your list for today?" I said, trying to sidestep the compliment, to say anything that would make me feel normal, that would settle the racing of my heart.

"Fertilizing," Alex said with dread.

"Oh," I chuckled, "So you'll be the good smelling one come dinner time."

"Don't act so high and mighty." He teased, then became serious, his face slack. Alex lowered his voice, "Angus just rode in from the Westmarch Village. There has been an outbreak of white fever. I'm afraid you'll have to deliver medicine and supplies. Set up the sweating tents and ensure a quarantine."

I understood, now, why Alex had not yet called for the food. White fever was a nasty illness, a rash of pus-filled welts that covered the arms and torso. The mere mention of the sickness was enough to turn even the hardest person's stomach. The most effective cure was to sit in enclosed tents where large fires burned camphor and witch hazel. Buckets of hot water were thrown onto coals to create steam that would sweat out the illness. To say I would smell medicinal by the end of the day was an understatement.