While Ellen talked she worked, setting up a bath for her young mistress in a great oak tub placed before the fire. Pouring scented oil into the steaming water, she called out, "Come now, my lady. 'Tis ready."

The girl sat dreaming while her shoulders and back were scrubbed. Then she took the soap from Ellen and finished up the job while Ellen fetched a small jar of shampoo from the cupboard. She poured a thin stream of golden liquid into Catriona's hair, added water, and, building up a sweet-smelling lather, washed and rinsed the girl's hair twice.

Seated by the fire, swaddled in a large towel, Catri-ona let Ellen dry her hair. The excess water removed, the tiring woman brushed and brushed the thick, heavy hair until it gleamed. Pinning up the dark-golden mass, she motioned her young mistress to stretch out and then massaged her with the pale-green cream her mother, Ruth, made up. The girl stood up, and Ellen handed her her silken undergarments. She was standing in her petticoat and blouse when her mother entered.

At thirty-six, Heather Leslie Hay was at the height of her beauty. She was radiant in a dark-blue velvet gown trimmed in gold lace, and a marvelous rope of pearls that Catriona knew had belonged to her great-grandmother. Her lovely dark hair was mostly hidden beneath a blue-and-gold cap.

"Your father and I wish to speak wi ye before our guests arrive. Please come directly to our apartments when you are dressed."

"Yes, mama," said Catriona demurely as the door closed behind her mother.

Automatically she let Ellen dress her, all the while wondering what her parents wanted. She was their only daughter, having an older brother, Jemmie, eighteen, and three younger brothers. Colin was twelve, and the twins, Charlie and Hughy, were ten. Her parents had always been so involved with each other that the raising of their children had been left mostly to nursemaids and tutors. She had had to plan her own life from practically the very beginning.