“So, we are walkin’ along the easternmost side of the castle?” Emilie asked.
Catherine beamed at her, nodding. “Aye! Very good, me Lady. Yer bedchambers are in the Northeast corner. So, dependin’ on which way ye turn when ye come out of yer rooms, ye’ll either be walkin’ along the North or East wall.”
“The firth and the sea beyond, it’s one of the reasons Clan McGregor is so successful,” Catherine explained.
They reached the top of a grand staircase, which gave way to a beautiful atrium. Catherine did not miss a beat as they walkeddown them, continuing to chatter away as they moved into an entirely new part of the castle.
“All the villages that pay taxes to the Laird,” Catherine continued. “They are all along the coast. They’re fishin’ villages and small towns that control the ports. And, when ye control access to the sea…”
Catherine’s words broke off, turning to glance at Emilie expectantly. The silence dragged on.
The maid clearly expected Emilie to finish her sentence, and Emilie did her best to comb through her memories to see if she knew anything about what Catherine was getting at. But she did not.
In all her studies, all her time poring over books with her tutors about the history of Scotland, history of the world beyond, of language and arts and arithmetic—she had not come across anything that would help her in this moment.
She shook her head ruefully, a silent explanation to Catherine that she didn’t know what she was talking about.
Catherine’s eyes widened in surprise.
“If ye control access to the sea,” she said slowly, as if she thought Emilie might be daft for not knowing. “Ye control the world.”
Emilie nodded, taking it all in.
“So, Laird McGregor believes he controls the world?” she supplied.
Catherine chuckled as if Emilie had just told the funniest joke she’d heard in a while.
“Well, of course he does. He’s Laird McGregor.” The maid waved a hand, dismissing Emilie’s words. “Our clan has a history of bein’ one of the most powerful. Because of the sea and the land that we occupy. We’re one of the few clans in Scotland with this much access, with this much food supply. And it makes us powerful.”
Emilie nodded, taking in every word that Catherine uttered. And she uttered many.
They continued walking, with the young maid pausing every once in a while to point out an important room within the Castle. But mostly, the young woman just prattled on about the Clan.
She told Emilie all about the deep history of their people. The way that they collaborate under the eyes of the Laird to ensure that no village that he cares for goes hungry.
Emilie’s mind was spinning from all the information. When her parents had first told her that she was to marry, Emilie had been certain that they had only been able to secure a lowly laird for her.
Her parents were not especially powerful. Their success was moderate and respectable enough as merchants. But they were not terribly influential.
So, she’d been certain that the only type of Laird that would be interested in their daughter would have been one who oversaw struggling people. One that would benefit from the modest amount of trade and money that her parents oversaw.
So, never had she thought she would find herself as the Lady of a clan anywhere near this prestigious.
And yet, here she was.
“And here we are,” Catherine said, stopping in front of a wide doorway. “This is the family dinin’ room. Whenever ye have meals nae attended by guests, this is where ye’ll be eatin’.”
Emilie peeked her head inside. A large wooden table with a red hue decorated the middle of the room. There were a total of six chairs, two on each side and one on each end, and each one of them was as ornately carved as the next.
Aside from the serving dishes that decorated the table, the room was entirely empty.
“Will I be eatin’ by meself?” Emilie asked, walking forward to step into the room. “Or, will the bairns be joinin’ me?”
Catherine immediately began shaking her head.
“Ye had a bit of a late start this mornin’, me Lady,” she explained. “The bairns and the Laird have all already eaten.”
Emilie cocked her head to the side. “A late start? It’s barely gone on nine in the mornin’.”