eighteenth century, I would expect you have everything on hand that I might expect to find. Except a bathroom.” I simply couldn’t let go of this all-too-important feature.
“And what is a bathroom? A room for bathing?” He shook his head. “Why would one need a special room for bathing?”
“Well, it’s for more than bathing, Colin, as you well know. In fact, it’s probably used more for its toilet facilities than for the bathtub or shower.”
“Toilet? Do ye mean toilette? Isna there a dressing table in yer room? I thought surely there was.”
I groaned in frustration.
“No, not toilette. Toilet, bathroom, where one goes to do one’s business.”
Colin blushed again. “Does yer room lack the necessary? I shall speak to Mrs. Agnew at once.”
I jumped up restlessly. “No! I have the necessary. I just want a bathroom,” I said plaintively. “I just want to know you have one.”
Colin stood, watching me pace.
“But, madam, I dinna have such a room. Ye may see for yerself. Search the castle. I’ll take ye on a tour myself.”
I shook my head with a mixture of impatience and anxiety. “Oh, forget it! Look, what can I do to rejoin my tour? You played the ole ‘I don’t know what a phone is’ last night, but I’m serious now. I need to find my tour, find my luggage and find my sanity.”
“And I thought ye had found yer sanity last evening,” Colin said quietly. “I feel sorry for ye, Mistress Pratt, and I dinna ken how to help ye. Not until ye accept what has come to pass.”
“I don’t want to,” I said, moving to the window. “I really, really don’t want to.” I stared out into the rain. “Because if I do, I won’t know how to find my way home.”
Colin moved to my side, his presence at once comforting and disturbing.
“Aye,” he said softly. “That is surely a problem.”
Chapter Five
Having no clue what to do next, I took Colin up on his offer to tour the castle. We started downstairs in the kitchen, which was a beehive of activity as Mrs. Renwick attempted to cook while shooing bored and hungry soldiers out from under her feet. The young kitchen maid scurried around, trying to avoid the men.
“Awa wi ye!” Mrs. Renwick said, batting at a solider as he reached for an oatcake.
Captain Jones clattered down the steps into the kitchen behind us.
“Captain Jones!” Colin remonstrated. “Take yer men in hand. They are fair torturing Mrs. Renwick and her granddaughter.”
“Yes, of course, Lord Anderson! I went to my room to pick up some papers before coming down here to the men. I am just on the point of chasing them from the kitchen. We most certainly do not wish to interfere with the good lady’s cooking, now do we, men?”
Captain Jones opened his arms wide and managed about ten soldiers through a door at the far end of the kitchen, much like a mother goose might spread her wings and urge her flock forward. I heard the group shuffling down some stairs, indicating there was yet another level.
I couldn’t help but smile. The soldier-actors seemed harmless, most of them quite young. Colin’s dark expression was either well put on, or he didn’t agree with my silent thoughts.
“This is Mrs. Renwick, who oversees the kitchen. And Grace, her granddaughter.”
Grace, who looked about fourteen, curtsied. I thought she looked quite young to be working full time, but maybe she only helped her grandmother out on occasion. It was summer, and she might be out of school.
Cheeks rosy from embarrassment, the tiny blonde moved to a large pot over a fire and stirred something inside with a wooden spoon.
“I canna feed all these men for more than a few days without some extra help, yer lairdship,” Mrs. Renwick said with a bob in our direction.
“They will be gone as soon as I can manage, Mrs. Renwick. If not today, perhaps tomorrow. I havena checked the river since these infernal rains began, but I imagine it is swollen. When the weather lets up, Captain Jones
“And what is a bathroom? A room for bathing?” He shook his head. “Why would one need a special room for bathing?”
“Well, it’s for more than bathing, Colin, as you well know. In fact, it’s probably used more for its toilet facilities than for the bathtub or shower.”
“Toilet? Do ye mean toilette? Isna there a dressing table in yer room? I thought surely there was.”
I groaned in frustration.
“No, not toilette. Toilet, bathroom, where one goes to do one’s business.”
Colin blushed again. “Does yer room lack the necessary? I shall speak to Mrs. Agnew at once.”
I jumped up restlessly. “No! I have the necessary. I just want a bathroom,” I said plaintively. “I just want to know you have one.”
Colin stood, watching me pace.
“But, madam, I dinna have such a room. Ye may see for yerself. Search the castle. I’ll take ye on a tour myself.”
I shook my head with a mixture of impatience and anxiety. “Oh, forget it! Look, what can I do to rejoin my tour? You played the ole ‘I don’t know what a phone is’ last night, but I’m serious now. I need to find my tour, find my luggage and find my sanity.”
“And I thought ye had found yer sanity last evening,” Colin said quietly. “I feel sorry for ye, Mistress Pratt, and I dinna ken how to help ye. Not until ye accept what has come to pass.”
“I don’t want to,” I said, moving to the window. “I really, really don’t want to.” I stared out into the rain. “Because if I do, I won’t know how to find my way home.”
Colin moved to my side, his presence at once comforting and disturbing.
“Aye,” he said softly. “That is surely a problem.”
Chapter Five
Having no clue what to do next, I took Colin up on his offer to tour the castle. We started downstairs in the kitchen, which was a beehive of activity as Mrs. Renwick attempted to cook while shooing bored and hungry soldiers out from under her feet. The young kitchen maid scurried around, trying to avoid the men.
“Awa wi ye!” Mrs. Renwick said, batting at a solider as he reached for an oatcake.
Captain Jones clattered down the steps into the kitchen behind us.
“Captain Jones!” Colin remonstrated. “Take yer men in hand. They are fair torturing Mrs. Renwick and her granddaughter.”
“Yes, of course, Lord Anderson! I went to my room to pick up some papers before coming down here to the men. I am just on the point of chasing them from the kitchen. We most certainly do not wish to interfere with the good lady’s cooking, now do we, men?”
Captain Jones opened his arms wide and managed about ten soldiers through a door at the far end of the kitchen, much like a mother goose might spread her wings and urge her flock forward. I heard the group shuffling down some stairs, indicating there was yet another level.
I couldn’t help but smile. The soldier-actors seemed harmless, most of them quite young. Colin’s dark expression was either well put on, or he didn’t agree with my silent thoughts.
“This is Mrs. Renwick, who oversees the kitchen. And Grace, her granddaughter.”
Grace, who looked about fourteen, curtsied. I thought she looked quite young to be working full time, but maybe she only helped her grandmother out on occasion. It was summer, and she might be out of school.
Cheeks rosy from embarrassment, the tiny blonde moved to a large pot over a fire and stirred something inside with a wooden spoon.
“I canna feed all these men for more than a few days without some extra help, yer lairdship,” Mrs. Renwick said with a bob in our direction.
“They will be gone as soon as I can manage, Mrs. Renwick. If not today, perhaps tomorrow. I havena checked the river since these infernal rains began, but I imagine it is swollen. When the weather lets up, Captain Jones
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