“Aye, hen,” she said meekly, then turned and picked up the tray that had held Minna’s supper then walked out to the kitchen.
Minna felt wretched. She had just taken the anger she should have directed at Jamie and poured it onto her best friend in the whole world. Damn Jamie! This was all his fault. She vowed to apologize humbly when she came back.
Usually, when Minna arrived at the village most of the inhabitants were asleep, and she dropped her packages off in their barns for collection in the morning. It was normally only young mothers with tiny babies still breastfeeding who were awake at that time, so she was surprised to see candles in a few of the windows. She was even more astonished when many of the villagers began to come out of their cottages to greet her, all of them smiling.
“To what do I owe the honor?” she asked, laughing as they gathered all around her. “You are usually all asleep at this time.”
“We wanted tae thank ye, Mistress.” Davie Donaldson, the oldest man in the village spoke up. “We found the deer ye left for us. We have decided tae eat a wee bit o’ our share now an’ dry the rest for winter. It willnae go very far between the lot o’ us, but it is more meat than we have seen in a long time. We are a’ very grateful, so thank ye.”
“Aye!” cried Jack Aitken, one of the adolescent boys who hero-worshiped Minna. “Did ye shoot it yourself, Mistress?”
Minna looked at the faces all around her, baffled. “I am sorry, Jack,” she replied, “but I did not shoot anything, and I hardly know how to use a bow. I know nothing about a deer.”
The villagers looked at Minna, surprised and puzzled.
“Then how did it come tae be there?” the boy asked, frowning.
Minna shrugged. “I have no idea. It was obviously a gift from a benefactor.”‘Or a trap,’she thought. It would be just like Jamie to do such a thing then blame the villagers for stealing his game.
“I smell a rat here,” Davie said grimly, frowning. “If it is no’ from ye, then who can it be, Mistress? It might no’ be somebody wi’ good intentions at a’.”
Minna thought for a moment. “Exactly what I was thinking myself, Davie, so what I suggest you do is keep the deer a secret for now, no matter how tempting it is to discuss it with your friends and family outside the village. I will have to find out more about it. Was there an arrow in it? I may recognise it.”
“No, mistress,” Mary McPhee, one of the young mothers, answered. “It was shot clean through the heart. Looked like somebody that knew how tae use a bow. They knew what they were daein’ a’ right.”
‘Like one of the castle guards,’Minna thought. Aloud, she said: “I will look into it. Now, take your food, for I must be going back. The nights are becoming shorter, and I must be home before there is light.”
“Before ye go, Mistress,” Dan McGowan, a big, burly man in his middle years, spoke abruptly. He was usually a man of few words, and the fact that he was speaking at all made Minna realize how desperate the situation was. “We need tae ask ye tae beg the Laird for some help yet again. I am sorry, but our crops are failin’ once more, an’ even wi’ your generous help, we willnae be able tae get through the winter, because we will have nae corn or barley tae sell.”
Minna gazed at the big, proud man and felt a mixture of both sorrow and anger. This should not be happening, and it was all the fault of her lazy, idiotic brother, who cared more for his own selfish desires than for other people’s lives.
“I know how desperate things are,” she conceded, “but I don’t know what else to do.”
“Wi’ the greatest o’ respect, mistress,” Dan said. “I dinnae think ye know how bad things are. The food ye give us - we know ye bring as much as ye can but it is no’ enough, an’ we try to give what we have tae the bairns so they grow up right. The Laird needs tae see that without enough tae eat we cannae produce crops we can sell, an’ then we willnae be able tae pay rent. He might end up turnin’ us oot o’ our hames, an’ then where will we go? An’ he will have tae find new tenants, an’ that will cost him.” Minna saw tears standing in the big man’s eyes and heard his voice becoming hoarse with emotion.
She sat on the ground and was silent for a moment after Dan’s heartfelt plea. She could think of nothing else to say. Nothing she could do would make any difference without Jamie’s help and he had said over and over again that he would not give it. She felt utterly powerless, and worse still, useless. All she could do was promise to try - again. Then, abruptly, she burst into tears.
At once everyone was around Minna, hugging her, patting her shoulders, wiping away her tears and offering her words of comfort. She found a mug of ale thrust into her hands and drank it because everyone pressed it upon her, but she felt guilty taking away from them what little they had.
Eventually she stood up. While she had been weeping, her anger had crystallized into an iron-hard resolution. She wouldforceJamie to listen to her. There was a way. She just had to find it.
* * *
Unfortunately, the villagers kept Minna talking too long that night as they tried to think of ways to make Jamie Darroch see sense that the first fingers of dawn light were streaking the sky as she mounted Caesar and went on her way.
She sneaked Caesar into the stables with the help of one of her friends and went via the kitchen and the servants’ stairs to her room. She was relieved when she realized that no one had yet risen from bed, so she silently crept upstairs and opened the door only to walk straight into Lorna’s arms.
“Where have ye been?” she asked, her voice a mixture of fear and fury. “I was worried tae death!” She shook Minna so hard that her teeth rattled, but Minna wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly, wondering what she would have done had she not had her friend to come back to.
“I am so sorry, Lorna,” she said tearfully. “I am sorry I fought with you before I went out, and I am sorry I took so long to come home. You must have been so scared - please forgive me. It was very - oh, Lorna, it was terrible!”
Lorna put Minna away a little, then searched her face minutely. She had never seen her so distressed. “Sit down,” she ordered gently, ushering her into a chair. “Ye need one o’ these.” She held up a carafe of whisky. “But no’ on an empty stomach.” She proceeded to set out a tray of bannocks, cheese and black pudding with a glass of milk and put it on a table, then tucked a napkin under Minna’s chin.
“You take such good care of me,” Minna said warmly. “I don’t deserve you, Lorna.”
“Pfft!” Lorna waved a hand dismissively. “Ye’re an awful woman! The puddin’ is cold, but it serves ye right for keepin’ it waitin’ sae long. Now eat.”
The last thing Minna wanted to do was eat, but she forced the food down valiantly so as not to upset her friend till there was nothing but crumbs on the plate.