The Heather and the Pine

August 12th, 185~

The doctor's daughter rode up just as I was clearing away breakfast. I opened the door to her, as Susannah was busy making our patient comfortable, and the menservants were busy with the Major preparing for the shooting. (They will join the party the day after tomorrow. The boy was to join them also, now he is sixteen, but...)

Even though I watched her tie her horse and pull her bag from the saddle, I was much struck by her when she turned and strode towards me. I am not singularly short, but she is tall for a woman and has a most commanding presence and is so very confident – without being haughty like the young master. She is younger than I supposed – some four or five years older than I, at most.

“Come in, miss.” I bobbed a quick curtsey and stepped aside to hold the door. “There's no change from yesterday.”

She hesitated as she stepped over the threshold. For an instant she gazed straight into my eyes, which was the most curious feeling. Her eyes are dark green-grey and very beautiful, and gazing into them gave me a disturbing, not unpleasant, quickening of my heart. I held my breath until she blinked. (It occurs to me now that it was as if she were slightly shocked to see me, but why should I be such a surprise? She must have expected a servant at the door!)

“Ah-huh. Thank you.” She gazed at me again. “You're not the lassie from yesterday.” Her voice was softer than her bearing had led me to expect, and her accent was pronounced but gentle – unlike some of the locals I have heard, who may well be speaking French for all I can understand.

She had a tight jacket over her blouse, made of that hard-wearing cloth which is so popular up here, and her trousers were of the same material, making a suit very much like a man's, although much feminised and tailored to the shape of her body. I was curious to see how her trousers quite naturally betrayed the shape of her long legs, and I felt myself blush at how daring it is of her to wear such attire. She must enjoy a deal of confidence to ignore the stares that must follow her, if she makes a habit of dressing thus.

However, my most particular impression was that she has a most shapely body. (And now I blush again to think of it, for I know to find her comely is wrong...but I cannot help it! She is comely, and if I find her so I must bury that deep in my heart where it cannot be discovered and I can pretend it is not so.)

Absent-mindedly, she handed me her cap and riding gloves and I felt that her fingers were warm where they brushed mine. She patted the tight bun of her hair as she studied my face closely again then looked me up and down quickly, and I noticed a faint, pretty, blush to her cheeks. I presumed it was the exertions of the ride. “I should certainly have remembered seeing you,” she muttered quietly.

I bobbed again. “Yes, miss, thank you.” I ushered her along the corridor. “Susannah's with the young master now.”

“Ah-huh.” She followed me, close behind my shoulder. “And what am I to call you?”

“Martha, miss.” Her gentle, considered gaze on me compelled me to fill the silence she left after learning my name. “I'm in the kitchen usually, miss.”

“Ah-huh. Good. I hope that means you lay a better fire than the other girl.” Suddenly she smiled, and it lit up her face in the most delightful way. She has a curious face, not pretty yet not plain, but it is utterly lovely when she smiles. (I do fear for myself, for I already yearn to see that smile directed at me again.) She leant towards me slightly and lowered her voice. “I hope I may intrude on the kitchen in a wee while. I will want to come find you.”

I took her to mean she would want to direct us on how to nurse the boy. “Yes, miss. As you wish.” I ushered her into the boy's room and withdrew, but she turned round as I was withdrawing.