A Laird and a Gentleman (All the King's Men #4) - Gerri Russell Page 0,9

you will need. In the meanwhile, I suggest you start with the cobwebs.”

Desperation tightened Mariam’s chest. “And if I cannot do it?”

“You have one day. Get started.” With those words he left her alone.

Mariam took a step inside the chamber and listened. Nothing scurried in the darkness. She stepped cautiously through the thick dust on the flagstone floor, making her way to the altar where she set the brace of candles. Yellow-gold light spilled through the chamber and banished the shadows into the corners. In the half light, she could make out an arched wooden ceiling and gray stone walls through their dusty coating. The room’s two windows were so coated with dust they no longer let in much light.

She raised her broom to the window on her left and swept the glass with soft but efficient strokes. Dust floated on the air as light brightened the chamber further. Mariam repeated the process with the window in front of the altar, and despite the dust swirling about the chamber, daylight filtered into the room. Next, she got rid of the cobwebs along the peaks of the ceiling and felt a momentary satisfaction.

“Milady?” came a voice from the doorway.

Mariam turned to see the hunched figure of Mistress MacInnes, as well as Petunia and Estella. In their hands they held buckets of water, several rags, and each also had a broom. “Thank you for the supplies. You should probably set all of that in the hallway. I was thinking I should probably sweep the entire room before even attempting to scrub anything down.”

The women did as Mariam had instructed but then they stepped into the chamber with brooms in their hands.

Mariam startled when they began to sweep. “What are you doing?”

“We came to help,” Mistress MacInnes said from beneath the dark lacy veil that partially concealed her face. “There is far too much to be done here in the time Laird Sinclair allotted.”

The older woman’s aura was a vibrant violet, indicating that she was filled with divine wisdom and enlightenment. “This was to be my punishment and my humiliation,” Mariam said.

A lopsided smile pulled up the corner of Mistress MacInnes’s mouth. “The laird is out in the lists with his men. He will be there for a time, so the girls and I thought we might help.”

A sudden warmth filled Mariam’s chest. The feeling was so foreign she gasped at the sensation. “You would help me? Why?”

“Because we have all failed to do what was right at one time or another. Why should we hold you to a different standard than ourselves?” the older woman said. Behind her Petunia and Estella nodded their heads, their eyes illuminated with such caring that Mariam was unable to look away.

“I don’t know what to say . . . except thank you.”

“That is enough,” Mistress MacInnes said with a nod.

Too stunned to do anything but stare at the women, Mariam asked, “Won’t Laird Sinclair find out?”

The older woman thumped her broom on the floor, sending a spray of dust into the air. “Not if we hurry.”

Still wondering what this kindness would eventually cost her, Mariam followed Mistress MacInnes’s lead as she set about clearing the cobwebs from the ceiling and then the walls.

The four women worked silently for several hours until the wood of the ceiling gleamed a reddish brown and the walls and floor were a sparkling gray. “All that remains is to wipe down the altar, but the girls and I had best return to our own chores before m’laird returns and notices our absence,” Mistress MacInnes said, signaling for Petunia and Estella to gather the soiled rags and brooms then depart.

“I am grateful for the assistance.” Mariam paused in wiping down the last of the stone behind the altar. A sudden nervousness stole over her. “What would you want from me in return?”

“What do I want?” The woman’s green eyes reflected pain before they shadowed.

Mariam swallowed roughly, forcing back the onslaught of emotions the injured gaze roused.

“What I want is your trust. We did this for you with the expectation of nothing in return. That’s what members of the same household do for each other.”

Remorse stabbed through Mariam. She knew no one helped her because she never helped anyone else. “I’m not accustomed to kindness from others.”

Mistress MacInnes’s lips thinned. “You were a wounded soul when you arrived and defended yourself in the only way you knew how. But it’s been a year, Mariam. It’s time for change if you are to remain