the men was of the day’s fishing, with speculation as to the weight of a salmon landed by Sir Charles and tales of other fish caught on other rivers.
One of the men boomed across the table, ‘That ghillie of yours isn’t exactly a talkative chap, eh, Charlie? Bit of an old curmudgeon, what? But he knows his stuff, I’ll give him that.’
Lady Helen shot Flora an apologetic smile before quietly saying, ‘Set it on the sideboard, dear. I’ll get Alec to help me serve.’
He had already pushed his chair back from the table and was quickly at her side, taking the heavy platter from her. ‘You should be seated next to me, not having to wait on us,’ he muttered.
She smiled at him in gratitude, but shook her head and hurried away, preferring the peace and quiet of the kitchen, thankful for the green baize door which deadened the racket from the dining room.
She took the meat from the oven, setting it to rest on a warmed platter, then began to make the gravy with the juices in the pan.
It was bubbling nicely, and she was just draining the vegetables and putting them in their dishes when Alec appeared, carrying a pile of fish plates. He set them on the table and put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked, reaching to fill the gravy boats.
‘They loved the salmon. Absolutely delicious. Here, let me carry the venison through – save you the ordeal of having to listen to their inanities.’
‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me. I’ll bring the rest,’ she said, setting things on to a tray.
‘Alec!’ Sir Charles’s voice was sharp and harsh, making Flora jump so that she almost spilled the gravy. She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway. ‘Get back into the dining room at once. It’s extremely rude of you to neglect our guests.’
‘But Father, Flora can’t manage everything on her own.’
‘Nonsense. The girl’s perfectly capable of serving a meal. What she doesn’t need is you hindering her in her duties.’ He stood to one side and gestured for Alec to leave the kitchen, turning abruptly and following on his son’s heels.
Flora’s cheeks burned with a mixture of the heat from the stove and the humiliation of the laird’s words. But she picked up her tray and walked through the baize door with her head held high, setting the dishes on the dining table and shooting Alec a reassuring smile as she did so. He was sitting back in his place between two of the female guests, looking utterly miserable as they chattered across him about Mr Churchill, the new prime minister, and his wife, who wore the most beautifully tailored coats and such very elegant hats.
Lady Helen caught her wrist as she passed. ‘Flora, dear, go home now. You’ve done more than enough. I’ll manage the rest.’ She spoke discreetly, her words soft beneath the guffaws and shrieks of laughter as Sir Charles regaled the table with another of his fishing anecdotes. From her beaded reticule, she slipped a small brown envelope into the pocket of Flora’s apron. ‘Here, for all your hard work today.’
Flora shook her head, trying to hand the envelope back, but Lady Helen held a finger to her lips, gently shooing her away.
‘Thank you,’ Flora said, keeping her voice low, too, understanding that this gesture was not something that would have had Sir Charles’s approval. It was intended as an act of kindness, but at the same time it made her feel even more wretched about the role she’d been forced to play in the evening’s proceedings. ‘The pie’s in the warming oven and there’s a jug of cream in the larder to go with it.’
With a nod and a gentle pat on her hand, Lady Helen dismissed her and she hurried back to the kitchen. Before she left, Flora scraped and washed up the fish plates and cutlery. The rest would have to wait for Mrs McTaggart, who’d be coming in the next morning to make the breakfast, but she left everything as neat as she could.
She fished the brown envelope out of her pocket and then folded the sheet of cream writing paper containing Lady Helen’s instructions around it. With a stub of pencil she wrote, Thank you, but I was pleased to help. She tucked it under the cake slice that she’d set on the table for cutting the pie, so that Lady Helen would be