Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon [316]
“This is Elizabeth,” a voice announced breathlessly. “Do your duty to the lady, Lizzie.”
Brianna looked down and found the decision made for her.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, seeing the neat white parting down the middle of the small head that bent in a deep curtsy before her. “A puppy.”
The head bobbed upright, presenting her with a thin, starved-looking face, in which scared gray eyes occupied most of the available space.
“Your servant, mum,” said the small, white-lipped mouth. Or at least that’s what it looked like it said; the girl spoke so softly, she couldn’t be heard above the surrounding racket.
“She will serve ye well, ma’am, aye, indeed she will!” The father’s anxious voice was more audible. She glanced at him; there was a strong resemblance between father and daughter, both with the same flyaway fair hair, the same thin, anxious faces. They were nearly the same height, though the girl was so frail, she seemed like her father’s shadow.
“Er … hello.” She smiled at the girl, trying to seem reassuring. The girl’s head tilted fearfully back, looking up. She swallowed visibly, and licked her lips.
“Ah … how old are you, Lizzie? May I call you Lizzie?”
The small head bobbed on a neck that looked like a wild mushroom’s stalk; long, colorless, and infinitely fragile. The girl whispered something that Brianna didn’t catch; she looked at the father, who answered eagerly.
“Fourteen, ma’am. But she’s a rare hand with cooking and sewing, clean in her person and ye’ll never find a soul more biddable and willing!”
He stood behind his daughter, hands on her shoulders, gripped tight enough to show his knuckles white. His eyes met Brianna’s. They were pale blue, pleading. His lips moved—without sound, but she heard him clearly.
“Please,” he said.
Beyond him, Brianna could see her uncle, who had come into the hall. He was talking to Young Jamie, smooth head and curly bent together in close conversation. In a moment they would be looking for her.
She took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height. Well, and if you came right down to it, she thought, she was as much a Fraser as her cousin. Let them find out just how stubborn a rock could be.
She smiled at the girl and held out a hand, offering the second, uneaten bridie.
“It’s a bargain, Lizzie. Will you have a bite to seal it?”
“She’s eaten my food,” Brianna said, with as much assurance as she could conjure up. “She’s mine.”
Rather to her surprise, this statement finally put a stop to the argument. Her cousin looked as though he meant to go on remonstrating, but her uncle put a hand on Young Jamie’s arm to silence him. The look of surprise on Ian’s face turned to a sort of amused respect.
“Has she, now?” He looked at Lizzie, cowering behind Brianna, and his lips twitched. “Mmphm. Well, then, not much more to be said, is there?”
Young Jamie evidently didn’t share his father’s assessment of this point; he could think of quite a lot more to be said.
“But a wee lassie like that—she’s useless!” He waved a dismissive hand at Lizzie, frowning. “Why, she isna big enough even to carry baggage, let alone—”
“I’m big enough to carry my own bags, thanks,” Brianna put in. She lowered her brows and gave her cousin back scowl for scowl, straightening up to emphasize her height.
He lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgment, but didn’t give up.
“A woman shouldna be traveling alone—”
“I won’t be alone, I’ll have Lizzie.”
“—and certainly not to a place like America! Why, it’s—”
“You’d think it was the ends of the earth to hear you talk, and you haven’t even seen it!” Brianna said in exasperation. “I was born in America, for heaven’s sake!”
Uncle and cousin gaped at her, identical expressions of shock on their faces. She seized the opportunity to press her advantage.
“It’s my money, and my servant, and my journey. I’ve given my word, and I’ll keep it!”
Ian rubbed a knuckle across his upper lip,