“So she left! What of it? She made her choice.”
“You drove her out.”
“This ismyhouse.”
“This was her house too. But you forced her to fend for herself when you knew she couldn’t. And a few months later, when she turned to selling herself—”
“Silence!” his father spat. “You were what, twelve? You didn’t know a thing about it!”
“She came back one night. I was awake, I heard her. And I heard you. You refused to give her any money. You told her she was a whore who wasn’t fit to step on MacNair land. And I know that two months after that, she was dead.”
“Don’t speak of her ever again.”
“Why not? Because she had to prostitute herself, a MacNair woman? And yet you called Heather a whore. She’s also a MacNair woman.” For now.
“Get the hell out of my room!”
“Gladly.” As Niall turned on his heel, MacNair broke into a fit of coughing, a wet hacking sound that must have been painful. Niall didn’t allow himself more than a shred of sympathy. The old man caused others plenty of pain. Now it was his turn.
Chapter 9
Dear Poppy,
I hope this letter finds its way to London without too much delay, for I imagine you may have already heard from Daisy and worry for me. But I assure you, there is nothing to worry about. I’m at a place called Carregness in the highlands of Scotland. It’s owned by the MacNair family, who have taken me in as a guest. I expect to remain here until my birthday in October, when I intend to go to London by either ship or coach. Then I’ll settle all the details of my majority and my inheritance. After that, I will go abroad, beginning with the Continent.
As soon as I arrive in London, I will call on you and give you the full story of why I am in Scotland, and what has transpired since. Also, should my uncle or his associates contact you,do not tell them anything. It is my keen wish to never encounter Uncle Cyril again. When I tell you the story, you will understand…
Finding pen and paper in her bedroom had been a delight for Heather. As soon as she could close the door, she immediately sat down to write to her friends. She’d written letters to Poppy and then her other friends, regretting that she couldn’t pour out the whole saga immediately. But it would take more paper than the castle could hold, and Heather had to be circumspect in case her uncle tried to squeeze information out of her schoolmates. That was the sort of thing he’d do.
Funny how she was once again in an upper room of a huge stone building…but at least she wasn’t locked in this time! She got up and stretched, assessing the angle of the sun in the sky. It was getting to be later in the afternoon. Time to think about facing the music.
Heather resolved to look her best for the evening meal, to counter the very odd impression she made upon her arrival. Partly it was circumstances. After all, she arrived with only the clothes on her back.
Thankfully, a little while before (between letters) the maid had brought in a few gowns sent by Maeve, so her wardrobe now numbered four outfits. Of the new items, there was a day dress of green wool, a slightly finer evening gown in a deeper green, and a dress and jacket that would be suitable for riding, along with riding boots that were nicer than any she’d owned before. She looked over the collection of additional items, hoping to make some improvement in her appearance. There was a pair of gloves, some stockings, a few handkerchiefs, several ribbons for her hair, and a lacy fichu that looked so fragile Heather was afraid to touch it.
She picked up a roll of cloth in the MacNair tartan pattern, which she recognized from Niall’s own clothing, the pattern on the carriage seats, and nearly everywhere else she looked at Carregness. She unrolled it, discovering it was a shawl or wrap.
Against a white background, broad stripes of blues and greens mixed with a little grey. A narrow stripe of bright gold stood out from the more muted, wider stripes. The pattern mimicked a bright sky, brilliant waters, and green leaves. She liked it.
“Can I wear this, Susan?” she asked the maid, who’d come in to help her dress for dinner. “I mean, is it proper to do so?”
The maid nodded vehemently. “Why, you’re a MacNair now, milady. You should wear it! Miss Maeve would not have given it to you otherwise.”
“Good, then I shall.” The addition of the shawl ought to make her outfit more interesting, or at least different. Heather was never obsessed with fashion the way some women were, but evidently she had found her lower limit of tolerance. Perhaps she could ask Maeve for advice as to where or how to acquire more clothing. She’d need it after her birthday…when she left Carregness.
Oddly enough, Maeve entered the room at that exact moment, carrying a small tray. “Ah, I see you can make use of the clothing. Oh that reminds me. Susan, will you go fetch the heavy blanket from the linen press for our guest. Just in case it gets cold. Scottish weather is notoriously changeable,” she added, for Heather’s benefit.
The maid nodded and hurried out.
“It’s very kind of you to consider me,” Heather said.
“Niall requested I make you comfortable,” Maeve replied. “Whatdidhappen to your luggage?”
What was Heather supposed to say to that? She didn’t like the idea of lying to Niall’s family. Particularly on top of the huge lie about the marriage. “Ah…it got lost.”
Maeve raised an eyebrow, but then just put the tray down. It held a bottle and two glasses. She poured and offered one to Heather.
“Welcome to Carregness,” she said, in a toast.
