“Did ye find somethin’ funny?” she asked, giving the young boy a quick smile.
He glanced at her sidelong through long, dark lashes, a smirk toying at the corners of his lips, but never fully lighting his face. She glanced at Aurora.
The girl was watching the exchange, and the way she was looking at Emilie told her the girl thought she was an absolute dolt.
“Ye cannae go to the beaches at this time of the year,” Aurora informed, an air of superiority in her voice. “Water is too cold. Willnae warm up for a few weeks, which is what Faither says.”
Archer glanced at his daughter, an unreadable expression on his face, before he merely grunted his agreement and glanced back down at his plate.
“Do ye like goin’ to the beach when it’s warm enough?” Emilie was hoping the question would allow an opening, provide her with the space to find some warmth within Aurora.
It was her first time seeing the girl since the night before, at the cèilidh. And from the moment Emilie had set foot in the dining room, Aurora’s demeanor still appeared cold and displeased.
“We love goin’ to the beach,” Louis chimed in from beside her.
For the first time since Emilie had sat down, Louis had fully removed his attention from his plate. He was sitting straight now, looking at Emilie with a wide, open smile.
“We have Marjorie take us when it’s really lovely out,” he continued, excited by the content of the conversation. “She takes us and she teaches us about the sea and the fish.”
“And who is Marjorie?” Emilie asked, reaching down and plucking a piece of cured beef from her plate.
She took a large bite, the saltiness of the meat washing over her. Her stomach gave another lurch, begging for more sustenance. She ripped off a hunk of fresh bread as Louis continued speaking.
“She’s one of our tutors,” Louis explained excitedly. “She teaches us our letters. And, sometimes, we go walkin’ and she teaches us about plants and animals. Says it’s good to understand the world.”
“Is that so?” Archer’s voice was a growl, breaking through Louis’s excited chatter.
Immediately, the young boy’s face fell. Color rose high in his cheeks, and he diverted his gaze, turning it back down to the food in front of him.
Emilie glanced at Archer, who was staring pointedly at his son.
“I wasnae aware of any trips outside when ye should be learnin’,” he continued, staring at Louis’ side profile. “I’ll be havin’ a talk with Miss Marjorie.”
“Why would ye nae want them to go outside and learn?” Emilie asked, unable to stop herself.
A glance at Aurora showed her that the young girl was also studying her plate. She was staring down, a muscle ticking in her jaw.
The bairns are scared of their faither.
The thought caught Emilie off guard. She’d noticed immediately that the family did not seem particularly close. But she hadn’t thought that the children were actually afraid of Archer. Not until that moment.
A thousand different scenarios rushed through her mind, all of them trying to figure out why the children would be so timid around their father. Catherine had not mentioned anything.
In fact, while she had been blathering away earlier in the day about how Archer, while a firm Laird, was also one who seemedto operate from a place of deep caring. The maid had indicated that Archer seemed the type of laird who always wanted to do right by the people he was overseeing.
So, why would the children of a man such as that be so afraid of speaking out?
“I daenae want them venturin’ out durin’ their lessons,” Archer growled back at Emilie. “They need to learn without distractions. And them learnin’ their letters is more important than them bein’ able to identify various fish.”
“The towns ye oversee, they host Scotland’s most prized fishermen, though, do they nae?”
This fact had been another thing that Catherine had brought up earlier in the day. At the time, Emilie had been unsure how she would ever use the information to her advantage. Not when, if everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t be here for much longer.
But now?
Now the words were at the tip of her tongue, spilling out of her without the slightest bit of thought.
“Yer son will be the future Laird,” Emilie continued, forging on with the stubbornness of a bull. “He will need to ken all about the types of fish that keep his people wealthy. And yer daughter? Whomever she marries will surely enter an alliance with yerclan. It’ll be good for her, if she kens how to help them with trade. How to talk to her husband about the ports and what they bring in. Will it nae?”