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Mrs. Murray excused herself and entered “Lady Darroch, I’ve set breakfast for everyone in the morning room,” the plump woman in a large white apron informed. The McKendricks inspired a whole display of hospitality.
“Thank you,” Moira said before the woman exited.
“McDougal will certainly have something to say about it,” Drostan said of Aileen’s husband.
“You’re doing an excellent job,” Freya contributed.
“This will buy us time to consider the situation carefully,” Catriona added.
“Give us a few days and we’ll outline a course of action,” Drostan requested.
Moira regarded the people surrounding her and marvelled at how they stood for one another as a family, as a clan. Even the women participated in the decision making, their husbands encouraging and listening to them. She wished she could still count on her father and brother to make the Darrochs as well-knit as Lachlan’s clan. But she also felt grateful to have had her family at her side even if for a limited period. The perception instilled optimism in her and made her watch the McKendrick monument with gratefulness. The look he directed at her seemed to convey that he would be by her side for as long as she needed him.
Wishful thinking because she suspected that, after all, she would need him forever.
They headed for breakfast, where no one discussed problems, only amenities.
A few days later, Moira went to the fields to check on the progress of the crop. The oat was not as high as it should be, but it promised to catch up as the weather had been holding. She crossed her fingers, hoping for the best.
As she walked back, she crossed with many members of her clan. Usually, she nodded at them or stopped to ask about their families. Today, no one met her eyes, they passed by as if avoiding any contact with her. Avoiding her, in reality. Strange as it might be, she put it down to the distress of the last months. Though no one had ever cut her like this since she was a girl. And never in the last difficult year.
Before she reached the manor, she caught sight of Caitlin and called her.
The other woman came to greet her without meeting her eyes. “Lady Darroch,” more formal than she used to be.
“Everyone I met is behaving oddly towards me.” She decided to investigate the case. “Is anything the matter? Has something been damaged that needs seeing to?” Should there be any more damage limitation, Moira must glean the reason.
Caitlin had worry written over her whole face, hands tightly wrapped in front of her. “I-I shouldna be talking…it’s-it’s ugly—” she trailed off, head downcast.
“What is it, Caitlin?” her friend did not raise her head and remained in silence. “I need to know so I can solve the problem.”
“It isna a problem as such, my lady.” Her features so pleated they might fold in on themselves.
“Please, Caitlin.” Moira became genuinely apprehensive with the woman’s hesitation.
“There’s talk, ye ken, folk blether,” she procrastinated.
People talked everywhere, but a clan was a closed group, prone to even more gossip as everyone knew everyone.
Moira waited, aware that silence coaxed people to fill it with conversation.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Caitlin began. “They say you and Laird McKendrick are living in sin.”
It came so unexpectedly that Moira could barely make sense of it. “In sin? But we—”
She was going to say that they had separate rooms, that there were servants in the house the whole time. But then she remembered the evening the maids took the tub away as Lachlan stood at her chamber threshold. Had people started talking because of it?
Anger overcame the surprise. “We’re not living in sin, Caitlin,” she said firmly.
How dare the clan tear at her reputation when they had so many problems to deal with? And how dare people talk when she was not enjoying the perks of really living in sin with the sinfully delicious man? Her credibility was being shredded without her even tasting the reason for it.
“I ken,” Anguish in her friend’s voice. “But that’s what they’re saying.”
Moira took her leave before her anger overflowed and exploded. One more thing to add to her already bucket full of problems. Livid, she pounded her foot on the grass, heading to her study.
Though she understood gossip tended to fade away—she never listened to them, and could not care less if they were about her—this was a particularly fragile moment to have such talk rise around the clan. She must earn every ounce of respect everyone had for her and she could not afford to lose it while the Darrochs were under threat. No one would follow her lead with such a blemish.
This last development required swift action.
