A Laird for All Time by Angeline Fortin (room on the broom read aloud txt) 📗

sauces to the fish and vegetables as they came along.  It should have been much lighter than it was considering an even larger meal would follow that night.  She did her best to eat a moderate portion while thankful to have been seated near Dory where she could pester her freely.

“You really shouldn’t keep that corset cinched up all the time,” Emmy told her firmly.  “It isn’t good for that baby and I am telling you right now.  It must stop.”

“I have been having pains when I do not wear it,” she confessed though clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.  “They frighten me.  It seemed easier this way.”

Emmy took Dory’s hand compassionately.  “Sure it might be easier, but don’t you want to have a healthy baby, Dory?”

“Of course I do,” Dory whispered.  After an anxious glance around to make sure no one could overhear her, added, “but Ian hasn’t visited me since I found out.  I don’t want to appear even more unattractive to him,” she protested while blushing furiously over her confession.

“Visited you?  Oh,” the realization struck Emmy as Dory flushed scarlet.  Really, Dory was a bit of a…well, prig, wasn’t she?  Stereotypical Victorian.  Emmy chewed thoughtfully on a bit of bread. “How long have you been married to Ian?” she asked trying to backpedal from the topic that made Dory so uncomfortable.

“Almost nine years now,” she replied, clearly thankful for the change of subject.   “I came here shortly after Heather left, after my father died.  Ian and I married almost immediately.”

“So you’ve been married for nine years and this is your first pregnancy?”

Dory shook her head uncomfortably.  “Well, no, I had lost three babies before.”

“Well, I would wager that Ian’s reluctance to ‘visit’ you has less to do with your appearance and more to do with fear.”

“Fear?”

“Naturally he’s afraid that any intercourse between you might prompt another miscarriage,” Emmy rolled her eyes.  “Men are such morons.  Dory, I’ll talk to Ian...”

“Oh, you mustn’t!” she protested glancing fearfully up the table at her husband.

“Oh, I must,” Emmy countered firmly.  “I will help you take care of yourself and help him take care of you too.  Stressing out over this thing with Ian isn’t going to help you carry this one to term.”

“Oh, dear,” Dory muttered twisting her napkin in her lap.

“After nine years of marriage, Ian can surely accept that pregnancy will change your body if he loves you enough.”  Emmy paused considering that idea.  This was another century after all.  “Does he?  Do you?  I mean, did you marry for love or some misguided arranged thing?”

“I loved Ian the moment I saw him,” she declared sincerely.  “And I know he feels the same.”

“Well, I’ll talk to him then,” Emmy assured her with a professionally compassionate pat on her hand.   “In the meantime, I’ll work on a diet and exercise schedule for you that will work with what’s available here and, of course, I will have to examine you at some point.  But, I’m serious – no more corset.”

“I must wear something, umm, Heather,” she looked uncomfortable for the first time addressing her as such.

“Leave that to me,” Emmy assured her.  “I think I have an idea that might do the trick.”

After luncheon, Emmy gathered Margo and Susan into her room.  Taking one of Dory’s older corsets, she had the maids first remove the steel boning. With a few quick sketches and a visual demonstration on her own bra, Emmy showed them how they could convert the corset into a short bustier that was secured by a shorter series of lacing up the back.  It extended only a few inches below the bust but gave the breast support that Emmy was sure that Dory would never go without under her white blouses. Combined with a heavier chemise, perhaps it would provide enough layers to allow Dory enough security to forgo the corset.

Chapter 11

Leaving the women to their work, Emmy begged a coat from the butler and decided to take a walk down by the water.  This time she went around the right side of the castle and along the edge of the low wall that fell perpendicular to the castle until it tapered away.  Here the grade to the lower plain was still steep and rocky but traversable. Gathering all the skirts up in one hand, Emmy used her other hand for balance as she picked her way down the slope.  Inwardly laughing at the sight she presented, she was grateful to drop the skirts when she got to the bottom.

The plain area stretched about 100 feet to the water’s edge.  Off to her right, just behind the castle, the terrain was rocky but to the left where the shoreline curved in there was a pebbled beach where the waters of the sound lapped gently against the rocks.

Emmy headed in that direction marveling at the beauty of the October afternoon.  The overcast skies of the previous day were gone leaving blue skies with just a few high clouds. The air was crisp and cool with a gentle breeze. The waters in the sound were fairly calm, the coastline of mainland Scotland was clear and seemed closer than the long ferry ride had suggested.  This is what she had come to Scotland to see, to feel.  Rugged beauty.  It seemed so untouched.  The power lines that had looped their way along the shore on her arrival were absent leaving her view of the Sound unobscured.

The wind was brisk and as Emmy drew in a deep breath she found the chill of the air in her lungs to be energizing in contrast the peaceful feeling the natural stillness around her inspired.  Drowsiness from the big lunch and lack of sleep faded away.  Margo had told her that most of the ladies of the castle took long naps in the afternoon which Emmy had thought curious before but now understood.  Such a big meal did leave a person thinking about sleeping it off, but it was a bad