A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,144
someone whose husband was forced to accept her without a dowry,” Sarah Anne snapped.
“Think what you will, but either way, I married Laird Campbell, and you’re still a spinster.”
“Penniless pauper. You seduced Laird Campbell, so he had no choice but to marry you,” Sarah Anne pressed on.
“I wasn’t penniless after you spent one hundred and sixty pounds on that gown and two others,” Laurel said smugly. She no longer felt she needed to keep her secret. “Och, aye. I ken all aboot that. Do you want to ken how I do?”
Laurel’s expression was patronizing, and she knew it would antagonize Sarah Anne.
“Probably because you wanted the gown for yourself and couldn’t afford it,” Margaret chimed in as she came to stand beside her sister.
Laurel cast her gaze around the queen’s solar, grateful Queen Elizabeth was yet to join them. She pointed to the three women before her and to five more ladies-in-waiting. “Look at the bottom left of the embroidery on your bodice, tell me what you find.”
Laurel waited, amusement tempting her to laugh again. But she lost the battle and laughed so hard she nearly wet herself as one stunned face after another looked in her direction. All except Sarah Anne. She’d long suspected the woman couldn’t read or write. As the younger sister, it was clear her father hadn’t given her the minimal tutelage Margaret received. She looked blankly at Laurel before her eyes darted from side to side, trying to read the cues to how she should react.
“It’s an L and an R, Sarah Anne. I might have been the fourth daughter, but I’m still the daughter of an earl. He bothered to educate me. In case you truly don’t know, Laurel begins with an L, and Ross begins with an R. I made the gowns each of you is wearing. The others already figured that out.”
“You were a seamstress?” Margaret asked in disgust.
“Aye. And I’ve had the pleasure of watching ladies flounce around in my creations for years. You’ve looked down on me, thinking me a pauper, kenning my father wouldn’t provide for me. But I kenned you’d have naught to show off, no way to preen, if it weren’t for me. Tell me, have you found any gowns that compare to these since I left?” Laurel watched as eyes lowered and a few heads shook. “The best seamstress in Stirling suddenly disappears at the same time that Laurel Ross marries one of the most powerful lairds in the Scotland. An almighty coincidence. Look down on me all you wish, but I held the power to your social status while I was here. And I took it with me. You have naught to compete with. You’re all as plain as you were the day you arrived. I gave you status, and now I’ve taken it away. Do you ken what you can do?” Laurel watched as the women looked at her questioningly. “You can sod off.”
“Lady Campbell, I’ve missed your unique perspective on life at court.” Laurel froze as Queen Elizabeth’s words floated to her. When the woman said no more, she turned and dipped into a low curtsy that matched all the other women in the chamber. When they all rose, Laurel found the queen gazing at her, a suspiciously knowing expression in her eyes. “I long suspected you were the talented dressmaker, but none of my guards could ever catch you. I suspect it was your husband who deduced what you got up to. He is likely the only mon with the wits to keep up with you.”
“We met when I was returning from purchasing fabric, Your Majesty,” Laurel admitted.
“Well met, indeed.” Queen Elizabeth opened her mouth to say more, but a page entered with three missives. He handed one to Laurel and gave the other two to Margaret and Catherine. Laurel broke the seal to hers, recognizing Brodie’s penmanship immediately. She tore her gaze from the missive to look at the queen. Laurel didn’t understand the missive, but she would oblige Brodie’s request.
“Your Majesty, my husband requests my attendance in the Privy Council chamber,” Laurel explained.
“And you wish permission to leave,” Queen Elizabeth surmised, and Laurel nodded. The queen looked at Margaret and Catherine before she responded to Laurel. “What say yours, Lady Catherine and Lady Margaret?”
“Liam Oliphant requests I go to the Privy Council chamber as well, but why would I do that? There is naught there I wish to see or hear,” Margaret sniffed. “I do not run to any mon.