The Devil of Clan Sinclair (12 page)

Chapter 14

Drumvagen, Scotland

September, 1869

“I
t’s too far away, Macrath,” his sister said.

Since Mairi was prone to issuing edicts, he only waited. She would finish in a moment, marshaling her arguments as she always did.

She was, save for being female, perfectly suited to manage the Sinclair Printing Company. To the world that paid attention to such things, he owned the company, inheriting its assets and liabilities from his father. Mairi, however, ran Sinclair Printing, signing his name without hesitation to those documents she couldn’t execute on her own.

When she had to transact business in person, she did so. Only rarely did she encounter an obstinate male who refused to deal with a woman. When that happened, Mairi simply retreated and corresponded with the gentleman, using his name.

“It’s entirely too far away, Macrath.”

“I’ve been to Australia before,” he said.

“Yes, but when you left home, you’d a date in mind to return. Now you don’t.” She frowned at him.

He smiled and drank his whiskey, the glass cold against his fingers. He wished he could appreciate the taste of the single malt in solitude, but his sister and cousin had descended on him last night, having received his letter that he was leaving for Australia and determined to change his mind.

If he’d delayed sending the letter by one day, he would’ve been aboard the
Princess
and out to sea by the time they arrived at Drumvagen.

Now, however, he sat in the Clan Hall with the two of them, wondering how long this harangue would last.

The room smelled of heather, a scent he normally didn’t notice. Was it because he was leaving? Brianag was forever bringing in blooms of some sort or another and sticking them in ornamental vases to dry.

“At least give me a date when you’ll return,” Mairi said.

After all these years, his sister hadn’t yet realized he was as stubborn as she, although not as militant about it

“Mairi’s right,” Fenella said.

His cousin thought anything Mairi did was right, perhaps because Mairi had welcomed Fenella into their home when their cousin was newly orphaned. At the time, one more mouth to feed had been a burden. Or an incentive for him, not that he needed one, to succeed at his invention.

“It’s a long way away, Macrath. Must you go?”

He smiled reassuringly at her. “I must.”

“Are you coming back?” Mairi asked, frowning at him.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Which isn’t an answer, Macrath.”

She stood, marched to the sideboard and poured a measure of whiskey. His only response was to watch his sister sip cautiously, then take her glass and return to her chair. He noted she didn’t continue drinking the whiskey but finished her tea instead.

That whole demonstration was an example of his sister’s character.

“There are fires aboard ship,” Fenella said. “And scurvy.”

“Not to mention boredom,” Mairi said.

“You didn’t say anything about pirates or cholera,” he added.

The two women frowned at him.

Anyone looking at them wouldn’t have known they were related. Fenella had wispy blond hair and hazel eyes leaning toward green. Mairi, on the other hand, had dark brown hair and the Sinclair blue eyes just like his younger sister, Ceana. Fenella was, perhaps, prettier, but people tended to remember Mairi with her high cheekbones and stubborn chin.

Her personality was forceful and her temper wasn’t to be underestimated. He’d seen grown men quail before her. He wasn’t, however, one of them.

“Can’t you conduct your business here?” Fenella asked. “Must you go all that way?”

“Fenella’s right,” his sister said. “You don’t have to go halfway around the world.”

“I do if I want to assure the Australians I can bring their meat to market in England.”

“I don’t see why you have to go there, Macrath.”

“You needn’t worry about me so much, Mairi,” he said.

“Still,” she said, her voice trailing away.

“It’s important to be in a position to expand the business.”

“Are we running out of money, Sinclair?” Fenella asked.

The question was so out of character, he and Mairi turned to look at her.

Her pale cheeks blazed with color. “I only meant there are certain economies we can practice. I purchased three dresses this quarter and I didn’t need them.”

“Nonsense,” Mairi said, turning her frown on him again.

While Mairi ran the Sinclair Printing Company, Fenella acted as her assistant and managed her household. The two of them lived in the Edinburgh house, a residence he’d purchased when the first ice machine made a profit. He only wished his parents had lived in such splendor.

He’d wanted Mairi and Fenella to move to Drumvagen, but Mairi was insistent on keeping the printing company. Fenella, just as he’d expected, dug in her heels as well, and he had no choice but to accede.

However, he’d arranged for their protection, since single women were not safe living alone. He’d installed two men in their household. James was their driver, reporting to him. Robert was a second cousin and perfect chaperone since he was old enough to be their grandfather and was as proper as an archbishop. Robert also did the accounting for the printing company.

“You could sell Drumvagen,” Mairi said, looking around her. “Finishing the house must have cost you a fortune.”

He put down the glass and held up both hands in surrender, before Mairi could launch another salvo against Drumvagen. She didn’t like his house, didn’t understand his need to create something of his own, and frankly didn’t comprehend why Edinburgh had become too crowded and stifling to him. Yet when she came to Drumvagen, she seemed to enjoy herself immensely.

He hoped he could convince her to leave before him. Mairi and Brianag being here together without him was not wise. The two women clashed.

Twice now he’d watched as Brianag had stomped across the doorway, just to make sure he knew she was there. Pots clanged and banged, maids whispered, and buckets of water were dragged across the stone floor.

“We’re doing fine financially,” he said. “We’ve more money than we could spend in two lifetimes. That doesn’t mean, however, I’ll quit trying to earn more.”

“Are you still set on establishing a lineage, Macrath? If so, you need to find a woman to marry.”

His smile was a little more forced.

“I could say the same to you, Mairi. Emulate Ceana. She’s happily married.”

If she kept frowning like that, her face would be permanently marred.

“I’m not Ceana,” she said.

His two sisters were as different from each other in temperament and personality as Mairi and Fenella were in appearance.

“I’ve disassembled my new machine,” he said, “and it’s in the hold of my ship, my trunks are packed, and I’m leaving tomorrow.”

His words didn’t seem to make an impact on his sister’s frown.

“I want away for a while,” he said, hoping the truth would stop Mairi from asking any more questions.

Her eyes widened at his comment, or perhaps it was the tone in which he uttered it.

She leaned forward. “Has something happened, Macrath? Something you need to tell me?”

His smile was easier; the words were difficult. “Nothing has happened, Mairi. I just need to explore a bit.”

She settled back in the chair, eyeing him with some disfavor. “Why do I feel you are not telling me the whole truth?”

Because some truths could not be voiced. Virginia’s face suddenly appeared, seeping out of the vault where he’d put her.

“Why is it that women are so perfidious, Mairi?” he asked, sipping at his whiskey.

She folded her arms. “I might ask the same of you, Macrath, only about men.”

“He wasn’t worth you,” he said, speaking of the suitor she’d had a few years earlier. The man had rejected her, and although she’d never said the words, he knew she’d been hurt. “You shouldn’t judge all men by one.”

“Again, I might say the same to you.”

“Why do you think a woman is on my mind?”

“Because you’re acting the same way you did last year. You’re my brother, Macrath. A younger brother, granted,” she added, frowning at him as if daring him to mention her age. “A foolish brother, perhaps.”

She held up her hand when he would’ve spoken. “You can be brilliant with your machines,” she said. “But you are lacking knowledge when it comes to women.”

He stifled his smile. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s obvious you’re pining for one now. It’s why you’re off to Australia. It’s just about as far as you can get from Scotland.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“There,” she said, satisfied. “I knew it was a woman.”

How did she do it? She was like an irritating sound repeated over and over and over, until you would do almost anything to get it to stop.

But she was right about one thing—the farther he went, the faster he went, the better.

London

September, 1869

V
irginia lay on her bed with a pillow over her face, wishing Eudora would go away.

“Are you certain I can’t pour you some tea?” Eudora asked.

She closed her eyes, prayed her stomach would settle, and took several deep breaths.

“I’m sure,” she said. Ever since she’d returned from Scotland, Eudora and Ellice hadn’t left her alone for a moment, probably fearing grief would swamp her if she had any time to herself.

Between her sisters-in-law and Enid, she didn’t have a moment alone all day.

Perhaps it was just as well, since their constant companionship kept her from remembering. Macrath remained in Scotland and not in her thoughts.

“Could you please put the tray outside?” she asked, nearly done in by the revolting smell of kippered herrings. How could anyone eat such a thing first thing in the morning? Just seeing the jug was enough to bring back her nausea.

“Are you sure? You need to eat something.”

Not kippered herrings. Not rashers. Maybe toast, later, but nothing now.

She pulled the pillow off her face to find Eudora still standing over her, now fanning the air with the magazine she’d been reading.

This morning she wasn’t in the mood for company. She was exceedingly tired and wanted to go back to sleep. She could barely stay awake.

She’d felt this way once before, when they were traveling to England. She’d been exhausted then, too.

“You’re sad, that’s what it is,” her maid at the time had said. “It’s to be expected, leaving your home and all.”

Poor girl, she’d been dismissed a few days before her marriage to Lawrence, replaced by Hannah, who, her mother-in-law had said, was the perfect English maid.

Perhaps she was sad after all.

She closed her eyes as the door opened again.
Please don’t let Ellice be bringing something else to eat.
Her stomach could not tolerate any more food odors.

“Are you sure, Virginia? There’s enough tea in the pot. I can add a bit of lemon to it. Or cream if you prefer. Perhaps it would settle you.”

Her stomach was rebelling once again. She waved her hand in the air, hoping Eudora would take the gesture as a request not to mention food or drink.

“I’m not feeling well, Eudora,” she said. “Would you mind leaving me alone?”

Please, go away.

“Yes, dear, go and find Ellice. We’ll go off to the market in a few minutes. For now, I want to visit with Virginia.”

She slitted open an eye, to find her mother-in-law now occupying Eudora’s chair. She didn’t have the strength to face Enid without a fortifying cup of tea, thoughts of which caused her stomach to reel again.

The moment the door closed behind Eudora, Enid started to smile.

“Oh dear Virginia,” she said. “I thought you’d failed in your task. I thought I had sent a girl to do a woman’s duty. But you’ve succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.”

Virginia held the corner of the pillow aloft, staring at her mother-in-law.

Enid positively exuded joy.

She let the pillow drop, wishing Enid would depart in the haste with which she’d arrived.

“Oh my dear, don’t you see? The chambermaid told me you were ill. That you were retching again this morning. Isn’t it the most marvelous thing?”

Once more she slid the pillow away, frowning up at Enid.

“You are with child!”

Virginia closed her eyes. “It’s something I ate,” she said.

“One morning, perhaps,” Enid said cheerfully. “But you’ve been sick for the last four days. Of course you’re with child. And I’ve seen you falling asleep over your needlework at night.”

Her stomach clenched and for the first time in days it wasn’t nausea. She opened her eyes to find Enid had moved the straight-back chair closer to the side of the bed and was now sitting there patting her fingertips together.

“I know the symptoms, my dear. I’ve delivered three children.”

She didn’t know what to say. Evidently, however, her mother-in-law didn’t mind that she was a mute participant in this conversation.

“Tell me, my dear, did he enter you from behind? Did you copulate standing up?”