P&P FF

Attachable Anchors

NOTE: HEADS UP, some will say this is unbelievable and unrealistic, but there ARE people who pick other dialects up rapidly, from here on out, Mary will be picking things up faster than most, she will represent that group. (And my common apology for those that do not need reminders, but this will stay up for a while.)

2nd note: I do NOT know why FF replaced my edited version of ch.7 back to the Scottish dialect, I replaced it just now with the informal speech... if anyone that has read it that could not understand the captain. It SHOULD be corrected now. I replaced just before posting this chapter).

*Stonehaven is a town of my making as far as I know.

"I reckon it's best, for the sake of yer brother who's now the head of the household, we will not cast judgment on Miss Mary 'til we've met her. We'll let her deeds do the talkin'. Besides, by the time she comes, the lady will be Mrs. Mary Pedersen, one of us." Emil's mother than looked at Margaret. "And your brother is correct, it is you and your late husband who decided there were to no servants, that was not Emil's idea."

Mary's arrival to the Craigs

CH. 13

Tucked far away from home was Stonehaven it sat comfortably above sea level. It's river, joined by others from the north, flowed smoothly through the town's heart. Willows dipped their branches into the stream, and it wasn't rare to spot a swan cruising the waters. An old stone bridge, worn by time, spanned the banks, creating an arch that painted a peaceful picture.

The New Town and its High Street signaled progress was on its way. It had taken over from the old settlement, providing a safer spot for travelers and permanent residents alike. The High Street, stretching nearly a thousand feet, often felt the breeze weaving through Stonehaven.

Mary, peering out from the captain's carriage he'd left for her use, observed the cobbled street lined with quaint shops bustling with activity. Merchants, much like in other towns she and Charlotte had passed, showcased their goods. There were fine woolens, delicate lace, and even some flaunting the latest Edinburgh fashions which had been hauled in by local merchants, or their associates.

Mr. Bennet had intended to accompany them until an urgent letter about a relative's will arrived. The courts demanded his presence, leaving him no choice but to rush over to the Lucas's, relieved Charlotte could still accompany Mary as her chaperone.

"The deeper you venture into Scotland," Charlotte whispered to Mary, "the less likely you are to see such sights."

Mary remained silent, captivated by the encircling hills beyond the town's rooftops, almost as if they were cradling Stonehaven, shielding its verdant grounds from the approaching English. She only snapped out of her reverie when Miss Lucas tapped her shoulder as the carriage halted in front of a modest two-story Scottish home.

The house lacked servants' quarters, and the ladies surmised the basement was a functional workspace, as they glimpsed tools and workbenches through an uncovered window while descending from the carriage.

Mr. Patrick Craig emerged to greet them, dressed in a white muslin shirt and light brown breeches—a surprise for Mary, who had grown accustomed to seeing kilts. Noticing her reaction, Mr. Craig chuckled without any viciousness.

"I do have a fine collection of kilts, but when I'm in Bristol for business, I tend to wear breeches, especially being so close to the English border. Don't worry, though, I haven't abandoned my Scottish roots."

Mary blushed, embarrassed at being so transparent. Mr. Craig, without poking fun at her expense, welcomed the ladies inside. He informed them to make themselves at home as his wife would be back shortly, but he had to dash off to Peebles, and then he was off.

Just moments after her husband left, Mrs. Molly Craig walked in. She was the kind of woman whose eyes were as warm as the gardens around her house. That evening, the Scottish countryside was all calm and glowy, and it made Mrs. Craig's living room feel extra cozy. With Mr. Craig off to the city limits of Stonehaven, you could hear the ladies chatting, the fire crackling, and the sound of teacups meeting saucers.

"Now then, Miss Bennet, you'll be bunking with us for a bit, I hear. Captain Pedersen couldn't stop singing your praises."

Mary, all calm and collected, smiled back. "Yes, Mrs. Craig. Thanks for having me. It's really beautiful here." She leaned in a bit and added, "Mrs. Craig, would you mind calling me just 'Mary' while I'm here? It feels right, I think, with how friendly you've been." Mary had done her homework on Scotland being more laid-back than England. And, what with her ear picking up the Scottish accent so rapidly, the young lady went ahead and spoke it; hoping doing so would help her fit in.

Charlotte Lucas, always watching out for Mary, chimed in, "Mary has really fallen for the Scottish views and folks. She has got an eye for the pretty things and she is always reading about, and trying to figure out, the world around her."

"That's something special," Mrs. Craig agreed, pouring more tea. "I'm happy to call you 'Mary.' And what about your feelings, dear? The captain's a good man, but life at sea is tough. They say he's hung up his sailor's hat, but you never know with sea dogs. And even if he has, he might still be away now and then."

Mary looked into the fire, thinking about what to say. "I reckon a good heart is like a beacon, Mrs. Craig. It stays put, guiding folks back home. It calls one back even after roaming over hills or sails far away."

Mrs. Craig laughed, her face all crinkly with smiles. "Nicely put, Mary. You've got what it takes to be a sailor's missus. And you're sharp, too. We're glad you're here."

The night went on, and the chat was as easy as a river flowing nearby—steady and soothing. Mary's smarts and kindness were clear for all to see, and Mrs. Craig could tell Mary was ready for her new Scottish life. And if you asked Mrs. Craig, she was secretly hoping that Miss Lucas would catch someone's eye at the garden party the next day before she had to head off.

Mrs. Craig showed the ladies to their room upstairs. "All our children have flown the nest, and since we never had a proper guest room, I turned one of theirs into one. See you in the morning."

Mary and Charlotte stepped into the room, loving the candle's soft light. They could just picture the gentle greens and blues that would fill the room in the daylight. The sight of two four-poster beds, made from local trees and dressed in linens fresh from the wash and sun, was a real treat for them both. A modest fireplace would have been lit as summer had fled, and had the fall air warranted it, but it was not quite cold enough for one; at least not in the Craig's opinion. Hence, Charlotte wasted no time in getting under the covers. Mary, on the other hand, looked around some more.

A pair of well-cushioned armchairs sat on either side of the fireplace, suggesting guests could hold a quiet conversation. Charlotte nixed that idea by refusing to get out from under her covers. The furniture, though not overly expensive, was of good quality, with a well-made dresser and a small writing desk complete with quill and ink.

The floors, covered with a woven rug featured traditional Celtic patterns and, in the corner, a tall, narrow wardrobe stood. Mary did not need to open it to know there would be hooks to hang her garments, or a self to store a decent sized travel chest.

"How can you just sit there; it is freezing this far north."

"It is not that cold, not to me anyway." Mary stood up and went and sat on her bed if for no other reason as to allow them to converse without needing to yell at each other.

"Are you going to insist on the captain getting you servants?" Charlotte had heard about the Pederson's situation from one of the Craig's own servants.

"Not at first." Mary surprised Charlotte with that answer, but then understood when she explained she wanted to find out if it had just been a case of wanting to support Margaret's late husband, or if the women themselves wanted none. "I am not going to push them onto his mother if she wishes none in her house."

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