The Witch Of Clan Sinclair (19 page)

Normally, the drive took four hours. Today, however, the distance seemed to fly by as quickly as the time. The skies were clear with no hint of snow and the winter winds subdued.

As they were nearing Drumvagen, Mairi reached up and opened the grate, calling for James to stop.

The carriage slowed. She gathered up her skirt, wishing she hadn’t chosen to wear one of her better dresses, but she hadn’t planned on walking through the Scottish moors.

Ellice sat on an outcropping of rock. She might have been a statue, she was so still. The girl’s shoulders were slumped and her head half bowed, staring at a clump of gorse.

There was something so abject about Ellice’s posture that Mairi could neither ignore her nor pretend she was invisible.

Although there was no relationship between them, even that of marriage, she liked the girl and felt they were friends. Ellice was her sister-in-law’s sister-in-law. Virginia had been married before Macrath, and her husband had died. Ellice was the eighteen-year-old sister of that first husband.

After Virginia and Macrath married, both Ellice and her mother had come to live at Drumvagen. The arrangement had worked out well for the two English women, at least on the surface. But it was almost as if the gods, having seen how happy Virginia and Macrath were, wanted to add spice to their lives. The spice, in this case, was Virginia’s former mother-in-law, Enid, Ellice’s mother.

Mairi grabbed her skirts with both hands, watching the ground for stones and holes. She didn’t want to scrape the leather of her new shoes or twist an ankle.

At her approach, Ellice turned and smiled.

“Sometimes prayers are answered,” she said.

“I’ve never been the answer to a prayer,” Mairi said.

“Not specifically you,” Ellice said. “Anything that could resolve the situation.”

The past two years had been eventful and difficult for the younger woman. Ellice had lost her older sister, nursed her mother back from deep grief, and moved from London to Drumvagen. Her entire life had changed, the circumstances enough to make her sad or even angry.

Ellice had been neither.

Instead, her wide brown eyes studied everything, and she watched people with great interest, rarely commenting until her opinion was solicited. Even then her thoughts were measured and considerate, as if she had a mental filter through which all her words flowed.

When Mairi first met Ellice on the occasion of Macrath’s wedding, she’d been amused by the girl’s incessant curiosity. She was placed in service to help answer a few of Ellice’s innumerable questions about Drumvagen, Macrath, the family, Scotland, and a dozen more subjects.

Lately, however, Ellice had been less curious or perhaps just more restrained. She wondered if it was because Ellice had been told that no one approved of a curious woman.

She went to stand in front of the girl. “Are they at it again?” she asked.

Enid, having been the mistress of her own establishment in London, was expected to play the part of cherished family member. In doing so, however, she was no longer able to dictate the rules of the household, supervise the menus, or approve expenditures. Such a change in roles might have been difficult for anyone, but Enid had found it impossible. Not because she disliked Virginia but because her battles weren’t with her former daughter-in-law.

Enid despised the housekeeper, Brianag.

Brianag reciprocated in kind.

“I’ve never seen any two people so ill suited to be in the same room,” Ellice said. “I try to leave when that happens.”

Whenever they were in earshot of Virginia or Macrath, Enid and Brianag maintained a perfectly agreeable tone while sniping at each other. The minute Virginia or Macrath left the room, voices were raised and the sniping turned to all out war.

For hours each woman nominally tried to ignore the other. Then something would set one of them off and the battle raged.

Ellice swept her skirts away from a rock strangely shaped like a footstool and Mairi dusted off the surface before sitting.

“What is it now?”

“Food,” Ellice said, tapping at one of her bodice buttons. “Mother says she can no longer tolerate Scottish cooking. Brianag served her haggis for breakfast.”

Mairi laughed, hating haggis herself. “So what did Enid do?”

“She told Brianag that we come from a long line of English witches and she was going to recite a spell.”

“A spell?” That sounded a little desperate, even for Enid.

Ellice sighed. “Mother’s running out of threats. Most of the time, Brianag just laughs at her. This time Brianag told Mother that she was going to kirk to pray for her, then tell Macrath that she’d have nothing to do with an ungodly woman in the house. She refused to serve her dinner.”

“I admire your mother,” Mairi said. “Brianag is frightening.”

Ellice glanced down at her. “The most frightening person I’ve ever known,” she said. “If I were a child, I’d have nightmares about her.”

“Has she done anything to scare Alistair?” she asked, speaking of her nephew. He was nearly three now, and no doubt spoiled, but such a darling child that it didn’t seem to matter.

“She dotes on him. So does Mother. I think that’s what started the whole thing this time. Mother said something or did something that violated one of Brianag’s superstitions. I think we need a list of things we should or should not do,” Ellice said, staring off toward the ocean.

“Even if you had one,” Mairi said, “I doubt it would matter.”

“Is it because we’re English?”

“No,” Mairi said. “It’s because you’re there. I’m as Scottish as Brianag. But we clash as well.”

The woman was phenomenally devoted to Macrath and would hear nothing bad ever said about him. Unfortunately, she felt the same way about Drumvagen and Scotland. Even a mild comment such as, “It’s a cold day today, isn’t it?” would result in a glower and a mumbled threat along the lines of refusing fuel for the fire. “We’ll see how cold you’ll be then.”

Her brother, unfortunately, had almost as much devotion for Brianag. Whenever Mairi complained to him, Macrath would shake his head and say something along the lines of, “She’s very well respected.”

Was it respect or fear? Was the rest of the staff as cautious about the housekeeper as she was?

Whenever she broached the subject of Brianag to Virginia, her sister-in-law got a wild look in her eye as if she wanted to escape the room immediately. She couldn’t blame Virginia. She probably had that same look.

She turned her head, looking toward Drumvagen, now hidden behind the pines. She really wasn’t in the mood for more drama, but it seemed as if she had no choice.

Standing, she held her hand out for Ellice. “Come on, we’ll face them both together.”

Ellice sighed again as she plucked at her left cuff with her right hand. “She’s my mother, but she can be very trying.”

An apt description, but she decided not to say that to the girl.

“Brianag can be as well,” she said.

Ellice allowed herself to be pulled from her perch and accompany Mairi back to the carriage.

December in Scotland could be dreary. The mornings were gray and often the sun didn’t burn away the clouds, leaving the afternoons the same. The days were short, with snow in the air and sometimes on the ground. So far this year they’d been spared, but it was only a matter of time until everything was coated in white.

Drumvagen, however, was an oasis of green, the massive house surrounded by tall pines. Built of gray brick only slightly darker than the white-flecked ocean to her right, the house was square, with four tall towers on each corner. The dual staircases in front curved from the broad portico to the gravel approach, welcoming a visitor like outstretched arms to Macrath’s magnificent home.

Because they were family, James pulled around to the back of Drumvagen. Before they were out of the carriage, Mairi heard the shouting.

“Macrath and Virginia are at Kinloch Village,” Ellice said. “The two of them have been going at it all day.”

Mairi had the uncharitable thought that at least Brianag was fussing at Enid and not her. Normally, the housekeeper didn’t have any qualms about telling her what to do and how to do it whenever she visited Drumvagen. If Brianag was focused on Enid, perhaps she would be left alone on this visit.

As they left the carriage, approaching the back entrance, she realized why she could hear them arguing so well. The two women stood in the middle of the laundry yard.

“You’re a harridan!”

“At least I’m not a tumshie Sassenach,” Brianag replied more calmly.

They were probably close in age, but in appearance they were opposites. Enid was short and plump, and Brianag tall and thin.

Mairi had the strangest notion that if they were chess pieces, Brianag would be the queen and Enid the pawn. That didn’t mean, however, that anyone should underestimate Enid. The Dowager Countess of Barrett had kept her own establishment after having been widowed for a dozen years, negotiated a marriage for her invalid son and, when faced with penury, revealed the true extent of her manipulative powers.

Brianag, on the other hand, was rumored to be a wise woman, dabbled in healing, and was knowledgeable about anything to do with Kinloch Village and its environs. She also had a very bad habit, when irritated, of retreating to a peculiar type of Scottish the locals spoke, which meant that the servants understood her but no one else did.

The two women were well-matched in temperament, will, and determination. They were also very tiring to be around.

She and Ellice exchanged a look.

“Awa and bile yer heid,” Brianag said, catching sight of them. She smoothed her apron down with both hands and smiled.

The sight of Brianag smiling was daunting indeed.

Drumvagen’s housekeeper was as tall as Macrath. Pink cheeks adorned her square face. Her nose was knifelike, too narrow to fit well on her face. Two vertical lines were etched between her deep-set brown eyes, giving her a glower even when she was in a good mood, a rarity for Brianag.

Her hair, brown threaded with gray, was normally arranged at the back of her head in a severe bun, but now several tendrils escaped, giving her an uncharacteristic disheveled appearance.

Her mouth was thinned in a smile as she approached them. Mairi didn’t trust that expression because Brianag had never hesitated in conveying how she felt, and her feelings did not lean toward affection.

“Mairi,” Enid said before Brianag could speak. “How delightful that you’re here.” The Dowager Countess of Barrett, short, stocky, and determined, nearly skipped to reach her first.

Enid’s face was plump, her face, although lined, appearing younger than her years. Now a triumphant smile curved her lips as she enveloped Mairi in a fulsome hug.

Brianag frowned impressively.

Ellice’s eyes twinkled as she moved away, leaving Mairi in the middle of the two women.

She had the thought that perhaps Edinburgh, with all its complications, might be a calmer place than Drumvagen.

Chapter 21

M
airi’s reluctance to talk to Macrath was like walking through a wall only she could see. She had to talk to herself all the way to her brother’s library.

She loved Macrath and she respected him as well. When their father died, she had worried about the burden placed on his too young shoulders, but her brother had taken up the responsibility, providing for all of them. Not once had he complained about the addition of another mouth to feed when she’d impulsively adopted Fenella. Nor had he ever hinted to their cousin that she wasn’t welcome.

Macrath had taught her, by example, what it was like to face adversity, which is why she pushed through the wall, entered the room and went to sit on one of the chairs at the other end, a warm and comfortable spot in front of a blazing fire.

He joined her, and for a moment they simply sat and watched the flames.

They’d shared some difficult years together, enough experiences that she was reasonably certain what Macrath would say about the recent activities in Edinburgh.

Standing, she walked to the window, staring out at the view of the wind-tossed sea. In turn, she went to stand in front of his desk, then to the bookcase that hid the passage to the beach.

Macrath and Virginia had shown the grotto to her last year. When she’d made the comment that the stone window was a lovely place to sit and while away the afternoon, Virginia blushed, making her wonder if her brother and his wife had done exactly that.

Since marrying Virginia, her brother’s blue eyes, a shade matching her own, had never been so filled with humor or his lean face as relaxed. As a boy he’d been fueled by ambition. He wanted to create an empire and a clan. Now that he had the empire and was working on the clan, he’d lost his impatient edge. He was calmer and more patient, especially with his son, Alistair.

Yet it wasn’t just Alistair who had the ability to bring a smile to his face. When Macrath was with Virginia, even his stature changed. His body curved as if to cover and protect her. Earlier, Mairi had interrupted them on the staircase, and he’d had his arm braced against the wall while he kissed his wife senseless.

Recalling that, she felt a twinge of envy and regret, the scene bringing back memories of the evening in Logan’s library. Perhaps it would be better not to remember that night. Or Logan, for that matter.

“What’s wrong?” Macrath asked.

She glanced at him. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“Because it takes a pry bar to get you out of Edinburgh,” he said, smiling. “You whine about leaving the paper, about not being able to report, a dozen excuses that keep you chained to the
Gazette.
”

“I do not whine.” At his look, she sighed. “Very well, I whine a little.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Why do I think you need to confess something?”

She came and sat beside him again. Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered exactly how much to tell him. Macrath was incredibly protective, despite the fact that she was two years older.

“Start at the beginning,” he said.

“I haven’t the slightest idea where that is. When you left Edinburgh? When you left James and Robert in charge?”

“Not in charge,” he said. “Merely there for your protection.”

She turned and sent him a look that resulted in his smile.

“I wasn’t trying to constrain your independence, Mairi. I really wanted them there simply for your protection. A single woman is not safe living alone.”

Since she’d proved him right in that regard, she didn’t have a rejoinder.

“How much has James told you?”

He took a sip of his whiskey and placed the glass on the table. “I haven’t met with James.” He raised one leg, resting his ankle on his knee. He looked relaxed and not at all anxious. She hated to disturb his calm.

She told him the story of the broadside, why she’d written it, and the resultant financial impact. Throughout her recitation, Macrath remained silent.

“Do you expect me to criticize you, Mairi?” he asked when she was done.

“I expect you to be disappointed.”

“I agree that you could have picked someone a little less influential.”

“He deserved it,” she said. At least, she’d thought so at the time. Several weeks had clarified the magnitude of her mistake.

“I can never be disappointed in you, Mairi,” her brother said.

“It’s a wonder I haven’t bankrupted us,” she said. “I’ve been a fool, Macrath.”

He sat and sipped at his whiskey, attentive and aware. Somehow, his patience made this meeting more uncomfortable.

“I also decided that I should become more active in society,” she said.

“Which probably doesn’t mean attending more balls,” he said dryly.

“I gave a speech about my thoughts at the SLNA. I think women should be given the vote.”

He didn’t say anything, which made her glance at him. He was still smiling, that contented expression making her partly happy, partly envious.

“I don’t think it’s fair that women are treated a certain way because they’re female. Or being told that it’s none of my concern because I’m a woman. I detest being patronized.”

“Have I ever patronized you?”

She shook her head. “You’re remarkably fair,” she said. “Marriage has mellowed you.”

“I was fair before I married Virginia.”

“You’re calmer since you’ve been married. Not as driven.”

“Oh, I’m as driven,” he said. “I’m just happier.” He smiled at her. “You should try it.”

She blew out a breath. “To care for a male is not my sole concern in life.”

“Is there something wrong with caring for a male?”

Since his question was so blandly voiced, she answered him.

“No, not in the context of a rich, full life. But not in lieu of having a life. Can you imagine me doing nothing more than being a wife? ‘Would you like more potatoes, husband? Could I bring you some whiskey, dear?’ I’d be bored in a day.”

“No doubt you’d be printing broadsides in your attic and distributing them when you hung the clothes out to dry.”

His crooked grin sparked her laugh.

“Don’t you ever want to fall in love, Mairi?”

The fact that her brother was asking her about love was strange enough. That she wanted to answer him added to the discordant feeling.

“Love seems a fine thing for men. Less so for women. Take servitude to a man and wrap love around it, and it seems justifiable and even pretty.”

“A man cares for a woman, protects her, shares what he has with her. Wrap love around it, and that, too, seems justifiable. Or maybe it’s enough to simply love with no thought to anything else. Is love strong enough to stand on its own and exist for no other purpose but to be itself?”

“How philosophical we’ve gotten, Macrath, and I don’t have the answer for you. All I do know is that love is probably not for me. Purpose is.”

He didn’t speak.

She turned and faced him. “I’ve always been able to do what I wanted to do, but I had to resort to subterfuge or outright lies in order to do it. Maybe I’m tired of not being myself. Or of hiding behind you.”

“Then do it.”

Annoyed, she stared at him. “It’s not quite that easy,” she said.

“Or maybe it’s easier than you know. Make the
Gazette
yours completely, Mairi. Change it to fit you. Stop hiding behind my name. You’ve done a phenomenal job with the newspaper. You always have. You cared more about it than I did. Sometimes, I think you cared more about it than Father.”

“Don’t say that, Macrath.”

“Why not? If he were here, I think he’d say the same thing. You have almost a missionary zeal, Mairi.”

She felt her face warm at his praise.

“You’ve always been the very best brother,” she said.

“I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m telling the truth. But the same zeal that makes you so good at your job, Mairi, can also narrow your judgment. Take a step back from time to time and reevaluate why you’re doing something.”

“Are you talking about the broadside now?”

“And other things.”

“Like love?” she asked. She shook her head.

He smiled. “The broadside was an error in judgment, Mairi. But errors like that can be fixed. Just don’t make the same errors about your life. Permanent mistakes.”

She stood again, walking to the window. “Sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me. Before I know it, I’m in the middle of another situation of my own making.”

Turning, she faced him. “Do you ever question yourself, Macrath? Did you ever think you weren’t good enough for all the things you wanted to do? Or not up to the challenge?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “They were my dreams. They fit me. Yours will fit you.”

“Will they? I wonder. I want people to know the name of the
Gazette.
I want to have influence.”

He stretched out his feet. His boots weren’t the cleanest, but this was his house. If Macrath wanted to track mud through Drumvagen, that was his business. She would have done anything other than incur Brianag’s wrath.

“Then do so,” he said.

“I always thought I was brave,” she said.

“You are.”

She shook her head. “No, Macrath, I’m not.”

She wasn’t going to tell him about the attack on her.

“I know that women who have spoken out have been the targets of violence. I don’t want to be singled out in that way.”

“Nor do I want you to be. Can you not do something else equally as important, but be less visible?”

“I’ve been printing thousands of brochures and announcements for the SLNA,” she said. Would he criticize her for that? Would he question her expenditures as vigorously as Robert had?

When he didn’t, she asked, “Why did you hire Robert? Was there no one else you could have installed in the house to oversee my expenses? Someone who was less dour, who smiled from time to time?”

“I thought he would be of help to you. Give you advice when you needed it.”

Surprised, she glanced at him. “Well, he doesn’t give me any advice. He does, however, make me explain every time I’ve purchased something.”

Macrath’s eyes narrowed. “I never asked him to do that, Mairi. He sends me a monthly accounting, but I never asked him to put you in that position. Why don’t you just tell him it’s none of his concern?”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Because I thought that’s exactly what you wanted him to do.”

“I have more faith in you than that,” he said. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have left you and Fenella in Edinburgh.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten us out of Edinburgh,” she said. She folded her arms, and tapping her foot against the wood floor, pretended an interest in the view.

Winter had a grip on Edinburgh, but here it was still waging a war for dominance. The waves were foamed with white to mirror the sky. A snow sky, most people would say. Would she be snowed in at Drumvagen? Perhaps it would be a blessing if she were.

“You’ve created a home here. Drumvagen’s a magnificent creation, and you did it.”

“Not alone, Mairi. Any more than you create the paper alone. You need help.”

“Speaking of which,” she said, sighing deeply, “Fenella’s in love with Allan, my pressman, and the best one I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I guess not. I just hate to see a man turned to idiocy because of love.”

He laughed, startling a smile from her. “Are you saying that because of me? Was I an idiot? Am I still?”

She turned and faced him, dropping her arms. “No, you weren’t. And he isn’t, either.”

Perhaps she was the only one in the family who was idiotic about love. That thought was so startling she decided to push it aside to think about later.

“Fenella said she had written you. Did you get her letter?”

Macrath sat back, sipping his whiskey leisurely. If a question confused him or he wanted time to think about it, he simply didn’t answer. She didn’t think he ever lied, and wished she could say the same. He simply didn’t speak until his thoughts were arranged in a certain fashion.

The only person who could alter his habit of being a stone wall was Virginia. With her, he was impulsive and sometimes rash. Look how quickly they had married. For that matter, look at Alistair. He was most definitely Macrath’s son, born a year before their wedding.

“I haven’t received hers,” he finally said. “But I did get a letter from Allan. I’ve no objection to them marrying. Do you?”

“No,” she said. “He’s been an excellent employee. Fenella is in love and he seems to feel the same.”

“Yet you still have reservations.”

Surprised, she glanced at him.

“It isn’t about Allan and Fenella,” she said, determined to tell him the rest of it.

She pulled the letter from her pocket.

“I received this the other day,” she said, handing the letter to Macrath. “It’s one of two. Abigail threw out the first.”

He read it through, then folded it.

“May I have it?”

“Why? I don’t want it,” she hastened to explain, “I’m just curious why you do.”

“Something about it bothers me. Either the way it’s written or the handwriting.”

She nodded, watching him tuck it into his pocket.