Chapter Eight #3
“Dr. Chisholm advised me not to take milk in my tea. When he used to visit, he did a little bloodletting where it pained me. I’m not fond of leeches, but my late husband thought highly of Dr. Chisholm.”
Sweet Lord! What barbarism was this? Doubtless this Dr. Chisholm charged a pretty packet for sticking a leech on his patient’s finger. Most likely, he understood that it did nothing to serve as a cure, but provided him with an income.
“Ye disapprove?”
Mia glanced up to see a stern expression in the older woman’s eyes. “Forgive me, Lady MacLennan,” she said, “but for ailments such as yours, Dr. McIver was never an advocate for leeches.”
“And this Dr. McIver is to be thought more highly of than Dr. Chisholm? Dr. Chisholm came all the way from Edinburgh.”
Doubtless he had—at Eilidh’s expense.
Mia released her hand. “I meant no offense, ma’am. And, if you’ll take no offense at my question, may I ask whether Dr. Chisholm’s treatments gave any relief from your pain?”
“A little.”
“Such as a slight loss of sensation where the leech had been placed, after which the pain returned once it was removed?”
Eilidh’s eyes widened. “How did ye know that?”
“Because I understand the effect a leech has on the body,” Mia said.
“They’re beneficial in some cases, but with ailments such as yours, they only provide temporary relief.
The loss of blood numbs the skin where the leech has been placed, but in most cases it does nothing to treat the underlying ailment. ”
“Dr. Chisholm was very expensive. Is that not a sign of accomplishment?”
“It’s a sign of his ability to earn a good income,” Mia said.
“My father adopted a similar practice, whereas Dr. McIver was willing to treat many of his patients for no fee at all, other than a small contribution to reflect what they could afford. Dr. McIver was such an advocate of the smallpox vaccine that he treated several of his patients without charge. Whereas my father…”
My father dismissed the vaccine as the work of a charlatan and died for his troubles.
Mia returned to her seat. “Forgive me, Lady MacLennan. I’ve no right to interfere when I’m nothing to you.”
The older woman took Mia’s hand. “Perhaps ’tis I who should beg forgiveness, lass. Ye’re not nothing to me—ye’re my daughter-in-law. Ye speak with such passion and conviction. It is only fair, then, that I listen. What would ye advise?”
“It doesn’t—”
“It does matter, lass,” Eilidh said. “On some days, my body pains me so much that I’d be willing to try anything. My son offered to send for Dr. Chisholm again as soon as his marriage to Miss Young was…” She colored and sighed. “Well, that’s not something we can consider now.”
“Then let me atone for your not having the funds for an Edinburgh physician,” Mia said.
“There’s nothing to atone for,” came the reply, “but I would hear what ye might suggest.”
Mia glanced at the window, from which a thin beam of sunlight strained across the air, picking up swirling dust motes.
“First,” she said, “I’d recommend plenty of sunlight and fresh air. Though the winter months are generally darker, even a little sunlight on a daily basis can ease the ache in your bones. As to milk—do you dislike it in your tea?”
“I like it, but Dr. Chisholm suggested I take my tea plain, for my health.”
“I would resume taking milk,” Mia said.
“Will that lessen my pain?”
“Over time, if taken regularly, it will lessen the cause of your pain. And if I can find the right herbs and plants, I can make you an infusion to lessen the pain, and a salve to massage into your hands.”
“I dinnae know…” Eilidh sighed.
“At least let me try,” Mia said. “I’ll treat anyone here who needs it if there’s no physician available. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“Aye, lass, I can see that,” came the reply. “Though it’s not the done thing for the Lady of Glenblath to—”
“I think we both know, Lady MacLennan,” Mia said, “that in every aspect that matters, I am not, and never will be, the true lady of this estate. But I would find fulfilment and happiness in making myself useful in the best way that I know how.”
Eilidh smiled. “I must say, ye speak very determinedly and have such unusual ideas for a young lady from London.”
Mia returned the smile. “Perhaps that’s due to my not being a lady,” she said, “at least not in any way that matters. In the eyes of those who matter, a doctor’s daughter is nobody.”
“Ye’re not nobody,” Eilidh said, “not to me or my son.”
Mia’s heart fluttered at the reference to…
My husband.
As if her mind sought to torment her further, his voice, deep and rich, filtered into her senses, at first caressing her with its musical tones, before growing harder, the rich warmth turning to cold anger.
“Damn it all to fuck!”
Eilidh stiffened, her gaze fixed on the door.
Then another voice spoke.
“Ha! Brother, it serves ye right for being such an arse.”
“Be quiet, Iona, or ye’ll feel the back of my hand on yer arse.”
“Ye wouldnae dare! Ye’re a weakling, Hamish MacLennan.”
“And ye’re a hellion!”
Footsteps drew near and stopped outside the door.
“Go to yer room, Iona,” the first voice said. “I cannae stand the sight of ye.”
“Better that than the sight of yer wife. I may be a hellion, but at least I’m not saddled with a pockmarked witch!”
“That’s my misfortune to bear, sister, but take care, lest ye find yerself with an equally undesirable man for a husband. There’s plenty hereabouts who’d take ye off my hands, and it’d save me a lot of trouble.”
“Ye wouldnae dare!”
“Oh, wouldnae I? What would ye prefer—a bloody good leathering or a pockmarked husband? I—” The voice broke off, then resumed. “What the devil do ye want, Elspeth?”
“I’ve been seeing to Her Ladyship’s chamber,” a third voice said, “so she might take her rest.”
“Is my mother ill?”
“I-I meant yer wife.”
The door opened, and a red-faced Elspeth appeared. Then she stepped aside to reveal Mia’s husband standing beside a girl who couldn’t be much more than sixteen years of age, with brilliant green eyes set in a face framed by flame-red hair tumbling about her shoulders.
Mia picked up her valise, then rose to her feet. The world blurred before her and she blinked to clear the moisture from her eyes, then met her husband’s gaze. A flicker of shame shadowed his expression before he turned his attention on his mother, who was rising more slowly from her chair.
“Ma,” he said, “I didnae realize ye were”—he hesitated—“that ye had company.”
“I gathered that, son,” Eilidh replied, frost in her tone.
“Ma, I…” His voice trailed off as Eilidh raised her hand. Then she turned to the maidservant.
“Elspeth, is the guest chamber ready?”
“Aye, ma’am,” Elspeth replied. “It’s ready for Lady MacLennan.”
Hamish flinched, and his forehead creased into a frown. His eyes seemed to darken, their expression hard and unyielding, barely concealing a flicker of fury.
“I-I…” Mia began, then her throat caught as his expression intensified. “I mean, I’ll…”
“There’s no need to say anything, my dear,” Eilidh said. “Elspeth, please show my daughter-in-law to her chamber. I’d like a word with my son.”
The young girl let out a snort, which turned into a squeal as Hamish gave her a sharp nudge.
“That’s enough of that, Iona MacLennan,” Eilidh said. “As for ye, Hamish: ye may be laird, but that disnae give ye permission to behave in such an uncivil manner, particularly toward the woman who’s yer—”
“Dinnae say it, Ma,” Hamish growled, and Mia tightened her grip on her valise.
“I’ll say it, lad, because it’s true,” Eilidh said. “Ye’re letting the clan down with yer behavior. Would ye have yer wife think so badly of us on the day she arrives?”
He opened his mouth to reply.
“No, son. Dinnae speak. I doubt there’s anything ye can say that will give this lass a more favorable opinion of ye. Like it or not, she’s yer wife.”
The girl let out another snort. “Like it or not! He definitely does not like.”
“That’s enough, daughter,” Eilidh said. “Take yerself to the kitchens and tell Mrs. McBride that ye’re to scrub the dirty pans. I’ll come along later to check up on ye, so no trying to get out of it.”
“But Ma…” the girl whined.
“Either that or ye scrub the chamber pots for a week. Be off with ye before I change my mind and have ye do both tasks.”
The girl colored and Mia caught a gleam of moisture in her eyes. Then she nodded, her lower lip wobbling, before mumbling, “Yes, Ma,” then disappearing.
“Come with me, ma’am,” Elspeth said, holding her hand out. Mia approached the doorway, her stomach knotting as she drew near her husband. He fixed his clear, hard gaze on her and she held her breath, awaiting further insults. But he merely inclined his head then stepped aside to make room.
As Mia exited the chamber, the door closed and almost immediately she heard raised voices.
“Come with me, lass,” Elspeth said. “There’s naught to be gained from hearing what others have to say about us behind closed doors.”
“What else can he have to say that would insult me more than he already has?” Mia said.
“Best not to find out, ma’am.”
Mia nodded, then followed the maidservant to a staircase that spiraled upward to another passageway.
Elspeth opened the door at the end, leading into a room decorated in a similar fashion to Eilidh’s living quarters.
Two maidservants were tending to the bed, plumping the pillows and smoothing over a thick plaid blanket, and in the hearth, a fire crackled and spat.
“That’s enough, girls,” Elspeth said. “Her Ladyship wishes to take her rest.”
The maids turned and Mia recognized the pretty young girl who’d declared such a strong aversion to her earlier.
“Close yer mouth, Ailsa,” Elspeth said sharply, “or Mrs. Bron will hear of it.”
Mumbling, the maids curtsied, then slipped out of the chamber, whispering.
“And none of yer chatter!” Elspeth said.
The whispering stopped and the maids’ footsteps faded into the distance.
“Let’s get ye settled,” Elspeth said, eyeing Mia’s valise. “Shall I unpack yer belongings? Or perhaps ye’ve a trunk that’s arriving later?”
Mia lowered her gaze to her valise. “This is all I have.”
The maid nodded, sympathy in her eyes, then she spoke more brightly.
“Well! I always say that when entering a new home, it’s best to make a fresh start with new things.
We can run up a gown or two for ye. Some of the finest wool in the Highlands, we have here, which will keep the cold out.
I daresay ye’re not used to the cold, being from London. ”
She chattered on, ushering Mia toward a chair beside the fireplace, then she tossed two logs on the fire and poked at it.
“That’ll keep ye warm, and I’ll come back later to check it’s still alight for ye.”
“I can tend to the fire, Elspeth,” Mia said. “But thank you for your kindness.”
“Och, it’s not kindness when it’s a pleasure, is it, lass?” the woman said, smiling. “And dinnae ye take notice of anything Master Hamish says. He has his da’s temper, all right, but there’s no malice with it. Now—I daresay ye’re hungry. I’ll bring up a bite of supper.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Mia said.
“It’s no trouble. There’s plenty going, what with the wedding feast having been—” Elspeth broke off. “No matter. I can bring ye a bite of venison and some tatties, then I’ll leave ye in peace and tend to ye in the morning. Would ye like that?”
Mia nodded. The fatigue she’d kept at bay threatened to overwhelm her, and she lowered herself into a seat and held out her hands to the fire, letting the warmth soak into her palms.
“Yes, Elspeth, I’d like that very much,” she said quietly.
The older woman placed a light hand on Mia’s shoulder and gave her an affectionate pat. “Good lass,” she said. “And may I be so bold as to welcome ye to Glenblath and wish ye joy?”
Mia caught her breath to stem the swell of sorrow, and managed to thank Elspeth in a tight voice. The maid curtsied, then slipped out of the chamber, closing the door softly behind her.
When the footsteps had faded into the distance, leaving only the faint ripple of the breeze flowing around the castle, Mia leaned forward, placed her head in her hands, and surrendered to the tears.