A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 31

Cara's hands trembled as she crossed the threshold of her aunt's house. The maid led her down the blue-wallpapered hallway. The swish swish of Micara's skirts seemed to echo off the walls, the only noise. She wondered briefly how the maid managed to walk so silently, but then they halted in front of a closed door and all thoughts vanished from her mind.

"Please wait here, Miss," she was directed. She nodded and the maid opened the door just wide enough to slip through and disappeared. She was back in a few moments and opened the door wide for Micara to enter.

Micara almost gasped at the beauty before her. Her aunt indeed had lavish taste. The whole sitting room was done up in gold, cream, and peach, everything from the imported brocade curtains and sofa cushions to the peach and cream wallpaper. It was extravagant, yet elegant, no gaudy knick knacks or oversized oil-painted portraits.

Micara's first glimpse of her aunt was the head of perfectly coifed silver hair visible over the back of one of the three sofas in the room.

Micara heard the door shut behind her, and she realized, to her dismay, she was to face her aunt alone. She took a deep breath and walked towards the front of the sofa, painfully aware of her wrinkled dress, chapped hands, and her unruly curls that had chosen this moment to slide precariously loose in their pins.

She rounded the side of the sofa and was greeted by a full view of the middle aged woman waiting to meet her.

"Aunt Gladys" had been a name in Micara's mind her whole life, but she had never had a face to go with it. The resemblance to Jaques was uncanny, as if she had taken his face and feminized it. Her skin was wrinkled, yet well cared for, though more tan than one would expect for a woman of wealth. She was dressed in  cloud of delicate blue satin skirts with a fichu of intricately tatted lace, and when she smiled, blue eyes strikingly similar to Micara's own, twinkled at her.

"There is no doubt you are Jaques' girl," Gladys said.

When Micara did not respond, her aunt asked, "Parlez-vous anglais, mon cheri?"

Micara nodded, recovering from her surprise, "Oui, yes, I do."

"As I thought," Gladys smiled again, "A refined young lady."

She arose from the sofa and stepped forward. Micara could see her elegance even in those simple movements.

Gladys frowned slightly, "Mon cheri, is something wrong?"

Micara blinked, at a loss for words. "I... I did not expect someone so... beautiful."

Gladys laughed, enen managing to that daintily. She embraced Micara, "Mon cheri, it will be good to have you here with me."

Micara returned her new found aunt's hug. Maybe it would not be so bad here after all.

Gladys called the maid, Anna, back and had her escort Micara to the bed chamber that had been made up for her. The room was as tastefully and luxuriously done up as the sitting room, all in shades of pink and cream, much like Micara's room at home, but many times more expensive.

To Micara's surprise, her trunk had been brought up already, but she wouldn't be needing it that night it seemed, for two new outfits laid across the foot of the bed, a soft pink evening dress, and a silk night gown.

"Mrs. Freeman did not know if you would wish to change for dinner or retire early from your long day of travel," Anna explained.

"Thank you, please tell my aunt that I am tired tonight,  but I will join her fro breakfast in the morning."

Anna nodded, "Yes Miss. Do you require help undressing?"

Micara shook her head, "No, thank you, you may go."