As Temperance neared the head of the road that led into the village, she halted. She couldn’t very well walk down “Main Street,” such as it was, wearing the shirt of the laird. It would take about two seconds for everyone to start talking about who she was and what she was doing—or what she and James McCairn had been doing.
“Bother!” she said, then turned off the path and headed toward the rocks that she knew were on the edge of the sea. Maybe a stroll along the water would help her think.
“I found four!” she heard a girl say as Temperance stepped onto a rock and looked down to see a tall, slim woman and a girl just on the edge of womanhood digging for something in the rocky beach along the edge of the water.
And when Temperance saw the woman, she felt at home because she recognized the way the woman walked, the way she tilted her head. She was one of what the newspapers called, “Miss O’Neil’s abandoned women.”
Feeling as though she were seeing an old friend, Temperance hurried down the rock. “Hello!” she called out.
The girl, startled, ran to stand beside her mother and watched Temperance approach with curious eyes.
“I’m Temperance O’Neil,” she said to the woman, putting out her hand to shake, but the woman just stood there staring at her. “I’m the new housekeeper at the . . . the . . . well, at the house,” she finished lamely.
“We know who you are,” the woman said softly, but she had stepped in front of the girl in a protective way, as though Temperance might try to take her child away from her.
“And what’s your name?” Temperance asked, smiling at the girl.
But the girl didn’t answer, just kept looking at Temperance with wide eyes; then she stood on tiptoes and whispered something to her mother.
Turning back, the woman looked at Temperance. She was a pretty woman, but her skin had seen too much weather. In another five years she’d be old.
“My daughter wants to know why you have on the McCairn’s shirt.”
“I helped him deliver a couple of lambs and my blouse got covered in blood, so he lent me his shirt.” Temperance was smiling, but neither of them smiled back.
“I’m Grace,” the woman said, her jaw fixed and rigid. “I expect you’ve heard of me.”
Temperance had had much experience with moments like this. All the women in the tenements were sure that since Temperance was a “lady,” she was going to judge and condemn them. Now she gave a big smile. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of little else. It’s Grace this and Grace that all day long.”
The woman’s expression of hostility changed to puzzlement. “But did they tell you that I . . .”
“That you’re a friend of McCairn’s? Oh, yes,” Temperance said cheerfully. “And does he take care of you? If not, I might be able to help some. Has he given you a snug house? Is it warm? You two have lots of food?”
“I, uh . . .” the woman sputtered.
“So do you know why he refuses to marry?”
For a moment the woman stared at Temperance with big eyes, blinking rapidly, then she grew still and she seemed to be considering something. “He doesn’t have time to talk to me,” she said at last, and her eyes were twinkling.
Temperance laughed, and when she did, so did Grace. But from the way the laugh sounded, it wasn’t something she did often.
“So what do you have in that pail?” she asked the little girl. “Is it something good to eat?”
“Would you like us to show you?” Grace asked softly.
“Oh, yes,” Temperance said, “I’d like that very much. And I’d like to hear all the gossip. And in return, I’d like to talk to someone about those men at the house.” Grace and her daughter started walking, Temperance beside them.
“Which ones?”
“All of them, from McCairn on down. I have to bribe them to help me clean that big old house. And McCairn says that only the horses are worth his attention. Do you have any suggestions?”
“And why do you want it clean?” Grace asked softly.
At that Temperance stopped walking. “How trustworthy are you? Can you keep a secret?”
Grace’s handsome face was solemn. “I have secrets that will go to the grave with me.”
Part of Temperance’s success had been in being able to judge women. She wasn’t great with men, but with women, she was almost clairvoyant. In her line of work, she had to be. For example, she had to be able to ascertain if a woman really wanted to stop being a prostitute or if she was just trying to get benefits from Temperance.
Now, looking into Grace’s careworn eyes, Temperance knew that Grace could use some friendship.
“Are you in love with him?” Temperance asked, for she knew that nothing could be done when a woman said she was “in love” with a man.
At that Grace smiled.
“Good, because my secret is that I’m trying to find a wife for him. Heaven only knows why his uncle wants his nephew to marry, but it seems to be of utmost importance to him. And since his uncle has married my mother and taken control of the money my father left me, that McCairn marry has become important to me too.” Temperance turned to look at Grace. “Since you know him best, what does he like in a woman?”
“One who doesn’t bother him with her problems,” Grace said quickly, and Temperance could detect bitterness in her voice.
“I see. I take it that means you get no cozy little house with a table full of food.”
“Hmph!” Grace said in answer, then pointed to a lone cottage set halfway up the mountain. “It used to be a sheepherder’s hut.”
“But he does keep the place in good repair for you, doesn’t he?” she asked.
“I don’t expect it of him,” Grace said in answer, then seemed to need to defend herself. “I was an orphan in Edinburgh and my husband brought me here, but he drowned three years ago and after that I had no one. And I had young Alys to care for, so what was I to do? There’s no money to be made here, and I have no skills, and—”
Temperance put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t know how to cook, would you?”
“As well as anyone,” she said cautiously.
“Then you shall come live with me at the house. I’ve just hired you as the cook.”
“You canna do that,” Grace said, backing away from Temperance. “He’d go into a rage.”
But Temperance caught her hand. “If there’s one thing I’m used to, it’s the rages of men. I could tell you stories of what I’ve had to deal with that you wouldn’t believe.”
“You? But you’re a lady.”
At that Temperance had to laugh. She was wearing the stained shirt of a man, her hair was straggling about her neck, and her skirt was muddy. How could anyone mistake her for a “lady”?
Temperance looked down at the girl standing just behind her mother. “Would you like to live in the house? If we clean up a room, you can have something beautiful.”
The girl backed against her mother, but she looked up at Temperance with wide eyes, eyes that told that she’d love to live elsewhere.
“Well?” Temperance said to Grace. “Do you accept the position or not?”
“I think I will,” Grace said. “Aye, I will.”
“Good!” Temperance said, then reached out to shake Grace’s hand.
Dear Mother,
I haven’t much time to write now, but I need a few things. I need to know the truth about why your husband so urgently wants James McCairn to marry. My instinct tells me there’s a secret. See what you can find out.
Second, I need the man’s authorization to hire a cook. He may have to pay her a salary, as I doubt McCairn will want to pay her, since he’s used to the woman in another capacity.
How is the bride-hunting going? She needs to be a rather athletic person, as he likes a woman who can climb mountains and deal with sheep.
By the way, I think I may have made a friend here. And, oh, yes, McCairn and I delivered twin lambs.
Yours in love,
Temperance
As Temperance looked at the letter, she smiled at the last sentence. Let her mother figure that one out!
“You did what?!” James McCairn bellowed at Temperance over the dinner table. “You hired who to be the cook?”
“Grace,” Temperance said calmly. He was standing, but she remained sitting. “Would you like more potatoes?”
“No, you interfering woman, I don’t want more bloody potatoes. I want that woman out of my house.”
Temperance put a big mouthful of the buttery potatoes into her mouth. “Too bad. They’re delicious. Not only is Grace a great cook, she’s also a fount of knowledge. She knows how to get food from the village. She knows who has cows and can supply butter and—”
“I want her out! Do you understand me?”
Temperance looked up at him in wide-eyed innocence. “And why is that?”
“She is— You don’t know but she’s—”
“A woman of low moral character because you go to bed with her without the benefit of marriage? Or is it not just you but all the men in the village who don’t have wives?”
At that James looked almost shocked. “She does not—”
“Oh, then it’s just you?” Temperance said.
James sat down and stared at her. “You are a cool one,” he said, looking at her in speculation.
“Why? Because I can understand what she’s been through and why she’s had to do what she’s done? More beans? No?” She put the bowl down and looked at him. “All right, what better way to take this little sin from the village than to put her to work under your watchful eye?”
James’s lips narrowed as he leaned toward her. “But I don’t want this ‘little sin,’ as you call it, taken from the village. I want to keep this particular sin.”
“Is that your personal opinion or the opinion of all the villagers, women included?”
“The women don’t count,” James said quickly. “At least not in this matter.”
“But this is the very heart of women’s matters. And do you want everyone to know that you fired Grace because you could get in bed with her but you wouldn’t allow her into your kitchen?”
“How about if I send you back to my uncle with a note pinned to your chest saying, ‘No thanks’?”
“You could do that, but then there’d be no more meals like this one and the rats would soon be back in the house and no one would take pasties up to you on the hill and—”
When James leaned back in his chair, Temperance knew that she’d won. He was going to allow Grace to stay. “Now what am I to do for my . . . needs?” he asked softly.
“Get a wife?” Temperance said sweetly. “You could always marry Grace, you know. Nice woman.”
“You’re beginning to sound like my uncle. And why are you so interested in my marrying anyone?”
“What woman isn’t interested in marriage?” she said quickly. “When I heard that poor woman’s story, my heart went out to her. You should hear about what she’s been through, being orphaned as a child, then falling madly in love with—”
She broke off because James got up from the table and left the room, and Temperance smiled. Years ago a man had shouted at her that she’d ruined his life. She’d told him the sad story of why his mistress had been driven into prostitution, and it had made him feel so sorry for her that he’d not been able to go to bed with her again.
However, the story had a bad ending, because the next day his former mistress shouted at Temperance that she should mind her own business and save only those people who wanted to be saved and that now she was going to have to find another rich gentleman to take care of her. From that Temperance had learned to help only the women who wanted to be helped.
And, happily, Grace, who had taken over the kitchen as though she’d always been there, had wanted help.
