Lowland Romance Collection - Books 1-3

Chapter 2-3

“Were you going far?” Mr. Kemp asked, and although I had resolved to tell him nothing, I unfolded the whole story, from my tiff with Louise to Lady Catriona"s expulsion, the riot in Edinburgh and my miserable experience by the loch. He listened without comment, giving an occasional encouraging nod when I faltered, and only when I had completed the tale did he speak.

“You have had a sorry night,” he said solemnly, “but you are warm now, and safe enough here.”

“But, sir,” I said, “my reputation…”

His smile was gentle. “You need not fear for your reputation with me, Miss Lamont. I am known as an eccentric, not as a lady"s man.”

I had never met a man who was so direct and so accepting of his own position in the world. “You may realise that, Mr. Kemp, but others…”

“Others will talk whatever you say and whatever you do, Miss Lamont, and we both know that to be true. However, we may minimise any damage by keeping our behaviour beyond reproach.”

“I fully intend to do that, Mr. Kemp,” I replied, frostily, for I did not like the way that this mechanic, or whatever he was, seemed to be taking control of the situation.

“It is late, Miss Lamont.” Mr. Kemp did not respond to my mood. I thought perhaps he did not understand it, or he may have been afraid of me, as I came from such an elevated position in society compared to his. “And you are tired. You may sleep here tonight and complete your journey tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “I can hardly do that, Mr. Kemp,” I said, “for then my reputation will indeed be ruined.” All the same, it was comfortable in front of this huge fire, with Mr. Kemp"s thick clothing covering me on the outside and his soup warming me inside. I vowed to remain just a few moments more, or until my own clothes were dry, then I would go back outside and, hopefully, Mr. Kemp would direct me on the correct route to the New Town.

Nevertheless, I did not protest when Mr. Kemp spread a blanket over me, or when he placed his own jacket, carefully folded, under my head.

It may have been the sound of calling geese that wakened me or the perfume of something fragrant slowly cooking, but I stretched with a sense of well-being, opened my eyes and immediately wondered where I was. I did not recognise my surroundings, not the rough stone walls, or the shaped shelves above my head, or the piled-up pieces of metal that lay between my bed and the smouldering fire where the pot gave that delicious fragrance. Only when the large man smiled down at me did I remember where I was, and where I had spent the night.

“Oh, my Lord,” I said, sitting up in bed and looking down at myself. I had no need to worry for I was still fully clothed and had a couple of blankets piled on me to boot. “I"ve been here all night!”

“You have,” said Mr. Kemp, “sleeping sound and snoring softly.”

“I do not snore,” I denied, but it was the far more important matter of my reputation that concerned me.

“Breakfast is ready,” Mr. Kemp told me. “There is warm water for you to wash, and your own clothes are clean and dry.”

I looked up and saw Mr. Kemp had been busy while I slept. He must have washed the mud from my cloak and my gown, and both lay clean and dry on that metal contraption beside the still living fire. He had also gone to the trouble of retrieving my shoes from the mud, although how he had done so in the dark, I could not imagine. They too lay clean and dry, standing at the foot of my bed.

“Mr. Kemp,” I said, and stopped. What could I say to an eccentric mechanic who had treated me with such kindness, yet spoken so bluntly?

“Miss Lamont.” He raised his eyebrows in reply.

“If you will kindly grant me some privacy I shall certainly rise now and get myself ready.” I looked around the room, hoping to see a necessary convenience, but there was none.

Mr. Kemp spared me the embarrassment of having to ask. “There is a door some short distance behind you,” he said quietly. “If you would kindly step through, you will find a pitcher and ewer, warm water, soap, and the other necessities of your morning needs.” He bowed slowly, a tall, tanned man with patched homespun clothing and hands the size of shovels. “I will leave you in peace for an hour or so. Your breakfast is keeping warm by the fire.”

He left very quietly for such a big man, and once again I pulled the chair to the door in case he should return unannounced, although by now I was beginning to have some trust for Mr. Kemp. Did I like him? I do not know the answer to that question, for at eighteen I concealed my feelings from everybody, myself most of all.

The small room was exactly as he described, but he had not mentioned the mirror which seemed too large for use in shaving, so I suspected he had brought it in especially for me. I did not see Willie Kemp as one of these preening dandies who spent so much time admiring themselves in front of the mirror to ensure they were perfect in feature and form. I recollected his long, saturnine face and shook my head. No, he was certainly no dandy, not with that unfashionably neat queue and the unruly whiskers that barely extended past his ears.

There were two candles already alight in that windowless room, so I watched myself as I washed in that deliciously warm water, with a soap that produced a lather equal to anything I had experienced at home. It smelled of primroses, which was also quite unusual for a man, so I wondered anew at this eccentric.

It was easier to remove Mr. Kemp"s clothing than it had been to don it, but as the last of the heavy cloth fell to the ground I smiled. It had been a strange experience altogether, to wear something that habitually covered the body of a man. The thought was strangely disturbing, so I discarded it, although I suspected the images might return later.

The rough material had rubbed parts of my body that were normally protected, so I examined myself for permanent damage but found none. Only a few red patches here and there, particularly on my hips. I turned sideways. I quite liked my curves, although I seldom had an opportunity to observe them in privacy. There had been four of us sharing one room in Badenoch, and Aunt Elspeth had insisted I share with Louise in Edinburgh, while there were always maids running at the back of me with unwanted advice and fiddling fingers.

I turned in front of Willie Kemp"s mirror, seeing my quite well-shaped breasts and the smooth curve of my flank, the swell of hips and my slightly too large bottom. Was there ever a woman born who was happy with her shape? Are you, my dears? Take off your clothes now, this very minute, and look in the mirror. Write down what you think, then ask somebody close, a sister perhaps, or your most trusted maid, to tell you what she really thinks. Then fight your natural urge to slap her soundly and believe her words rather than your own.

I longed for somebody to ask such advice, but there was nobody. My mother, may God rest her soul, would never have countenanced my looking in a mirror or any other sort of self-observation. I shudder to think of the consequences, but what harm is there in such an innocent pastime? God made us all, so we should surely be allowed to enjoy one of His finest creations.

There was a perverse thrill about standing naked knowing there was a strange man standing so close, but also an element of apprehension, so after my initial few minutes of luxurious tension, I hurried as best I could. My own clothes were dry, and after being beside the fire all night, deliciously warm, which made a nice change for mother always insisted on us freezing. It built character, she claimed, although I always suspected it was more likely to lead to pneumonia.

Fully dressed, I attempted to do something with the tangled explosion of my hair. Mr. Kemp either had strange tastes or a profusion of lady friends, for there was a full dressing set by the mirror, and I hauled and combed and brushed madly until I had imposed a semblance of order on my ugly black head. God knows how I envied Louise her beautiful blonde hair, while mine was as black as the Earl of Hell"s waistcoat and as liable to snarl as a bramble bush in an autumn gale.

I was extraordinarily disappointed that the outer room in that shed, and there were only the two rooms, was empty of Mr. Kemp. However, my breakfast was laid out on a plate by the fire, and I ate the fresh fish, presumably newly caught from the loch, and the eggs, with as much relish as I would any delicacy from Lady Elspeth"s table. And Mr. Kemp had provided a knife and fork as well, which astonished me as I expected such a class of people to eat with their fingers.

The cutlery was of good quality silver too but had obviously been stolen as there was an embossed coat of arms on the handle of each. Not recognising the symbol of the crown and crossed swords, I wondered, briefly, who the rightful owner might be. I smiled, wondering if Mr. Kemp had been the thief, but somehow, I could not imagine him sneaking through the window of some great house to filch a handful of forks. More likely he had bought it cheap in some corner pawnshop in the Auld Town.

As if by some magic spell, Mr. Kemp knocked on the door the moment I had finished my breakfast.

“Come in,” I sang, for I knew it was he.

Taking one step inside, Mr. Kemp stopped and looked directly at me. “You clean up remarkably well,” he said.

“And what do you mean by that?” I prepared to defend myself against an insult. One does, after living with five brothers and sisters, and then sharing a room with Louisa.

“Last night you came in as a gaberlunzie, a ragged orphan of the storm. This morning you are pretty as any picture, a young lady fit to grace a palace, and far too good for my humble home.”

“I think you are making game of me, Mister Kemp.” I was unsure if he was mocking me, but I suspected he was, although I could not think of a method of retaliating except to turn my shoulder. Which I did, of course, but he seemed not to notice.

“Indeed, I am not,” Mr. Kemp said, smiling at me.

I resolved to be polite but distant, as suited a lady speaking with an obliging servant. “You have been very helpful,” I favoured him with a small smile, “and I am sure that my aunt, Lady Elspeth Ballantyne, will thank you with some suitable remuneration when she sees fit. But now, pray, show me the way back to the New Town of Edinburgh.”