Highland Portrait (22 page)

“Miss Elinor, I am very pleased to meet you, and my name would be Stella…Celeste.”  Stella smiled sweetly and her strange accent charmed Elinor.  She spoke English which Elinor understood, but she knew from her strange accent that it must not be her mother tongue.  Elinor had heard of the New World, of course, but never of Tegis.  The people of Tegis must indeed be extraordinary.  Perhaps she was one of the nobility and with such an extraordinary name.  It seemed so fae. Stella Celeste.

Robbie stared at her shaking his head.  Of course her family name would be Celeste.  Stella Celeste, a Star from Heaven.

“Aunt, Stella, has been robbed o’ her clothes and belongings and has only these clothes that we bought from a crofter’s wife.  Can we see t’ her comfort and dressing?”  Robbie was anxious to get Stella into clothes that would not draw so much attention.

“Of course, dear.  Follow me child and we will see t’ ye.”  She gently took Stella by the hand and led her through the keep, up several flights of stairs.  Everywhere they passed servants stopped in awe of the strange looking woman.  Stella was anxious about being the center of attention, and though it seemed benign at present she hoped it would not turn sour.  She remembered what Robbie had said about keeping her eyes downcast and her voice soft, her words to a minimum.

Robbie’s eyes never left his bride as she ascended the steps.

“Och, she’s a beautiful woman, nephew, how did you come upon her?  This mission has been one fraught with some peril and some reward for you.”  Robbie turned at the voice of his uncle, greeted him with a hand shake and a smile his uncle had rarely seen.

Robbie was happy to see the man that reminded him so much of his father.  As tall as Robbie the MacDougall was heavier, age having settled comfortably around his middle, but strength was evident not only in his body, but his manner as well.  His light brown hair was streaked with grey as was his neatly trimmed beard and mustache. 

Where Robbie was passionate and fiery, the MacDougall was calm and controlled, rarely vexed.  There were those who knew his calm to be deadly, but he was a politically astute Laird and an exemplary leader.  He guarded his clan well and planned and provided for the welfare of his people.

“Aye, Uncle, she is a beauty,” he said, glancing once again as she slipped from view.  He turned his attention back to the MacDougall. “I have much news for you,”

“Then come.  You have a visitor, by the way.” The Laird smiled and led Robbie away to the great library of the keep.

Small dark eyes, yellow and rheumy, squinted at the spectacle of the new arrival, frowning at the harlot brought to taint MacDougall blood.  Partially hidden behind a hay man’s wagon he watched her haughty eyes, proud and wanton, her strange clothing branding her a foreigner.  Foreigner!  Seeing the white heather in her ungodly hat he sucked in his breath and ground his teeth. White heather could not save this one.  She would go the same as the other.

Stella’s trembling stopped when Elinor closed the door to the small chamber.  In spite of the warm summer air the drafty stone walls held a creep of cool air and a servant was building a small fire to warm the room. It was a simple room with a small bed, several small tables, chairs and trunks and candles in wall sconces. 

“I’ll bring clothes directly t’ ye, my dear, and I’m sure ye be wanting to bathe.” Elinor pulled a very large shallow pan from behind a screen and brought it close to the fire.  It was near the size of a number ten washtub, but much shallower, being almost like a large bowl.

“I’ll have water brought up for ye.” Elinor said, indicating the shallow pan.  As Elinor went about pulling drying cloths and soap from the trunks and laying them on a table near the fireplace, Stella looked at the shallow pan and wondered if this was the bath tub.  Her horse had a larger pan than this for feeding, but she was not going to spit in the wind, if this was a Renaissance bath then she would accommodate herself thusly. 

“I’ll be returning in a moment, lass.” Elinor patted her on the arm and smiled at her.  She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to ask, or if it were appropriate to address this strange women in such a manner, but she felt she had to know.

“Stella, dear. Robbie has said ye were kidnapped.  Were ye…harmed?  Do ye need…attention, lass?”  Elinor’s voice was so quiet and soft Stella had to lean closer to hear her. 

Attention?  “Oh,” said Stella, understanding the meaning. “No ma’am, I’m fine.  Robbie was my champion and I am…good.  I am not…harmed.  In any manner.  No harm.”  She smiled at Elinor and was grateful the woman had a tender consideration for her.  Elinor smiled, patted her again on the arm and walked out of the chamber, closing the door behind her.  Almost immediately two servants came in, a young man of about sixteen who carried two buckets of water for Stella’s bath, and a young girl about the same age carrying a tray of food.  She set the tray on a table and bowed.

“Mistress Stella, I am Brijit and I’m to be yer lady’s maid.  Donald here will be leaving now.”  Brijit looked at Donald who had placed the buckets by the pan but was staring at Stella his mouth agape, his eyes round and shining.

Brijit cleared her throat, “Thank ye, Donald!”  When Donald didn’t move, but continued to stare Brijit stamped her foot. “Donald!  Get!”  Donald jumped at her command and quickly took off, running from the room and closing the door behind him. 

Stella pursed her lips and quietly laughed, her shoulders shaking.  Brijit turned to look at her and seeing her new mistress laughing she smiled and her eyes twinkled.  “Young men they be easily confounded, eh Mistress Stella?”

Brijit helped Stella undress, taking the backpack and hat and laying them close to the fireplace.  Stella still held some apprehension about the backpack and asked Brijit to make sure it never left the room.

“It’s all I have left of my possessions, Brijit.  All I have left of my homeland.  It is precious to me and I would be heartbroken were it to come up missing.”

“Aye, Mistress, I understand.  We shall hide it away in one of these trunks and ye shall have the only key.”  Brijit found Stella’s clothes to be of some interest, particularly the hat and boots.  As Stella pulled the boots off her feet she handed them to Brijit who ran her hands over the leather stitching. “What fine boots these be, Mistress.  I ha’e ne’er seen the like.  They come from yer homeland?”

Stella smiled and took off her filthy socks, placing them on the table with her hat. “Yes, Brijit they are from Texas.  As are my hat and everything except this dress.”  Brijit eyed the hat and was particularly interested in the flowers.

“White heather, mistress?”  Brijit looked up at Stella and felt that surely the white heather was an indication that this woman was more than she appeared.

“I found it while traveling, Brijit. I thought it pretty and picked it to place in my hat.  Do you not like it?”  Stella was pulling off her jeans and stopped short.  She had bikini underpants and there was no way in hell she would be able to explain those.  She grabbed them and pulled them off with her jeans.  Brijit, still handling her hat looking at the curved brim and the flowers did not notice her put them into her backpack.

“White heather is a magical flower, Mistress, “ Brijit explained. “Is said to be the special flowers of the fae folk.”

“Yes, I understand, that is what Robbie told me.”  She looked for a towel to cover herself, now naked from the waist down.  She pulled a drying cloth from the table and wrapped it around her waist. “I found it near the spot that he…uh…rescued me.”  Again she gave Brijit her most charming smile, soft and innocent, unthreatening. “He told me it was good luck.”

“Aye, indeed it is.  ‘Tis an omen, Mistress.” Stella stiffened at Brijit’s words, her spine straightening in fear. “If the tanist found the white heather and ye at the same time it must needs be that ye are fated to be together.  Surely that is so.” 

Stella relaxed her guard, grateful that she was not going to be staked out and burnt just yet. Brijit smiled and picked up Stella’s jeans trying not to be too curious about the odd trews, but it was difficult to not want to examine them in detail.  Brijit knew that she would be questioned incessantly once she went downstairs and joined the other servants.  But she was a trained ladies maid and she wanted the esteem and trust of her Lady rather than that of her fellow servants so she would be circumspect, even if it was going to kill her.

“Uh, Brijit, is there a…um…chamber pot or something, I need to, uh…”

“Oh, aye, Mistress, behind the screen,” she said pointing.

Stella got behind the screen and unbuttoned her blouse, pulling off her bra, another item of ungodly sin and wantonness and folded it up as small as she could, another item for her Pandora’s Box of a backpack.  Wrapping the drying towel around her she moved from behind the screen wondering what she was expected to do now. Brijit had already poured the warm water into the shallow pan that was set in front of the fireplace and was soaping up a small towel.

“I’m ready for ye, Mistress.” Brijit put out her hand indicating that Stella should stand in the shallow pan.  Stella moved where indicated and Brijit carefully and respectfully began to give Stella a bath.  In all her twenty three years Stella could not remember ever having been bathed by someone other than her father when she was just a small girl.  There was that one time that Jason came home stoned and thought that giving her a bath might be a prelude to great sex, but he was so VERY stoned he spent the evening watching reruns of the Brady Bunch, eating a jar of peanut butter and all the lasagna leftovers.  But that was then, this was now and Stella had a hard time feeling comfortable with a strange young woman giving her a bath.  Personal space seemed to be in short supply here, especially when it came to washing genitalia.  Stella just closed her eyes and let it happen, hoping that her shyness about being touched was not too evident to this young lady.

Brijit had Stella kneel on a pillow and washed her hair, rinsing the sudless soap with cold water.  When Brijit was finished drying her she rubbed her down with an astringent potion that smelled of lilacs.

“Mmm, this smells good, Brijit, what is it?” Stella loved floral scents and this smell was divine.  Not too heavy, it smelled like a walk in the garden, light and airy and just slightly sweet. Brijit smiled, “’Tis me mam’s own recipe.  Flower medicine she calls it.  Wakes up the skin and the senses she says.”

Elinor came in with clothes draped over her arm and carrying a small hand mirror.  “Oh, Stella, dear, you look so beautiful, even wet as a duck. Brijit, get the brush and let’s dry out her hair.” Brijit wrapped Stella in a linen cloth, moved a chair in front of the fire and dried her hair, brushing it until it shone.

Elinor helped Stella into the most complicated underwear she had ever seen.  There seemed to be no end to the layers of it, but she was not going to argue about underwear, knowing that her own bra and panties were, at this point, scandalous, and would have to be burnt very soon.

Elinor cinched her up in what she assumed was some kind of corset depriving her of breath, but she said nothing and allowed the sweet woman to dress her. Stella had worn a corset before as part of a steampunk costume, but it had not been cinched this tight.  As Elinor pulled on the corset ribbons Stella felt her organs squeezed to a quarter their normal size.  It was difficult to breathe, but she thought perhaps she could stand it for one evening.  She put her hands at her waist and was astounded at how small it was. 

The petticoat was some sort of wired affair that felt like walking in a basket but when Elinor draped the outer dress over it, Stella felt like a fairy princess, the dress full and lush in a rich cream color that accented her golden colors.  Stella loved the low square neckline of the dress surrounded in the most amazing lace she had ever seen.  The bottom of the bodice dipped into a V shape and once Elinor tightened up the laces of the dress her waist seemed unbelievably small.  She could almost put her own hands around her waist.  Too bad about not being able to breathe, but she reasoned that vanity was strong in all ages, in all times.  This was not a mode of dress that she was going to adopt forever, but for the nonce it was fun to dress up in the best costumes ever.  She only wished she could take it back with her and wear it to ComicCon. 

The three women talked and settled into that female intimacy that comes so easily to women when in the activity of dressing. Brijit and Elinor wanted to know about Texas women and how they dressed and how they combed their hair and how they cared for their children.  Stella gave them as much information as she could without revealing herself.  When Elinor wanted to prepare her hair, Stella told her she would do that herself and taught both her and Brijit about French braiding.  Stella’s hair was thick and long enough that her finished styling was breathtaking.  Full and intricately braided and knotted at the back she looked like an exquisite princess.

“God’s mercy, lass, Robbie will fall down at the seeing of ye.  Everyone this night will.”

“Oh, will I see him again this evening?” Stella asked.  She was unsure of what the protocol was and hadn’t seen or heard hide nor hair of Robbie for the past three hours.  Plus she was hungry.  Very hungry. 

“Oh, aye, Stella.  We will be going down t’ dinner verra shortly.  Brijit and I will be leaving ye now so ye can say yer prayers and I’ll send Brijit to get ye when it is time to come down.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Elinor, Brijit, you have both been so kind and welcoming and have been so delightful and friendly to me. I am honored and most grateful.”  Stella’s sincerity shone through her smile and she was glad she didn’t have to fake this at least.  She was grateful to them and hoped that they would continue to be kind to her.