Chapter Nineteen
As Mia finished her luncheon, she heard a knock on the front door.
“Is that you, Maisie? I wasn’t expecting you until later, but you can have a…”
Her voice trailed away as she opened the door to reveal a young man.
She recognized him from the day she’d arrived at Glenblath, though she hadn’t seen him since.
Only a handful of souls had visited Mia in the weeks she’d resided at Glenblath.
Murdoch had come to issue taunts. Maisie had shooed him away the first time and he’d only returned once, though he fled when he saw Rory approach.
Had this young man come to taunt her? Perhaps Murdoch had sent him. Bullies often persuaded others to taunt their victims—poor Jamie was under the influence of that lad Billy, who, unsurprisingly, was Murdoch’s son.
Murdoch had a lot to answer for.
Mia folded her arms and met the young man’s gaze. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr.…?” She inclined her head and waited.
“B-Brodie, ma’am. Brodie MacLennan. I…I was wondering if ye’d take a look at my arm. Mrs. MacLennan said ye might be able to help.”
“Mrs. MacLennan?”
“Aileen MacLennan, her that teaches at the school. Her lass…Ada…comes to visit the horses. She said ye’d helped Ada after she hurt her shoulder. So I-I thought ye maybe might want to help me.”
“You look after the horses?”
“I’m head groom, ma’am.”
Mia ushered him inside.
“Oh,” he said, eyeing her half-eaten meal. “I-I’ll come back if ye’re busy.”
“Not before you’ve shown me your arm,” Mia said. “Does it pain you?” He hesitated, and Mia raised her eyebrows. “I see pain in your eyes, Brodie. There’s no harm in wanting to ease it. May I see?”
He pulled back his sleeve. The lower half of his arm was covered in a bandage that was yellowing around the edges and dotted with dark brown stains. Slowly he unwound the bandage, his forehead furrowing, then dropped it on the table.
A deep gash ran along his forearm, about which the skin was swollen and red. Mia wrinkled her nose at the faintly sweet aroma, then moved her hand toward the wound. The boy let out a whimper.
“Keep still,” Mia said. “I’ll not touch it.” She held her hand just above the wound, but could feel the heat on her palm.
No wonder tiny beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. The poor boy must be in agony.
“What happened?” Mia asked.
“I slipped and fell when unshackling the plough from the horses.”
“When?”
“Three…no, four days ago.”
“Four days? Why didn’t you come and see me at the time?”
“I-I didnae think…” He hesitated. “I mean, the others said…”
“That I’m a witch more likely to cast a spell on you than tend to your wound?”
He averted his gaze. “No one knows I’ve hurt myself, ma’am…
I-I dinnae want to lose my position. It was my fault.
I was careless. Murdoch says that a careless man is no man at all, and Iona already thinks I’m more mouse than man.
I bandaged it myself, and it didnae hurt much after it happened. But now…”
“But now it hurts and is hot to the touch—and, I suspect, you feel as if you’re coming down with a fever?”
“H-how do ye know?”
“I’ve seen, and tended to, many wounds like yours,” Mia said. She gestured to a chair at the table. “If you wait there, I’ll fetch what I need to treat it.”
Brodie nodded, and his feverish gaze followed Mia as she bustled about the room, setting a pot of water over the fire, gathering bandages, and plucking a jar of salve from the shelf. When she drew out a knife from the cabinet, he let out a low cry.
“No! Dinnae do it!”
“Do what?”
He gestured to the knife. “Do ye mean to chop my arm off?”
“Why in the world would you think that?”
“Iona says that’s what doctors do—they’d just as soon chop yer arms and legs off.”
Mia raised her hands in a gesture of appeasement. “You have my word that I’ll not remove your arm. Your wound isn’t so bad to necessitate such an action. But it has festered, and I need to remove the putrefaction so it can heal cleanly.”
He glanced at his wound and rose.
“If I don’t treat your wound, it will only get worse,” she said. “And then…”
Brodie’s eyes widened and a tear splashed onto his cheek.
“It’s a simple procedure.” Mia kept her tone neutral and gestured to the wound. “I won’t ask you to trust me, because I know I must earn that trust—but perhaps…”
“Och, I trust ye, ma’am,” he said, his cheeks flushing. “B-but I’m…”
Afraid.
“I understand,” Mia said. “You’re a little apprehensive because you don’t know what I intend to do.
I can explain as I go along so there’s no unpleasant surprises.
I can also give you something for the pain.
You’re in pain, aren’t you, though you’re being very brave not to show it. Wouldn’t you like that pain to stop?”
He nodded, and resumed his seat. “Wh-what must I do?”
“Keep your arm still. Can you do that?”
Brodie nodded.
“Good,” Mia said. “Place it on the table, then I’ll begin once the water’s heated.”
He hesitated, as if to gather his courage, then nodded and placed his arm on the table.
To his credit, the young man only cried out once, at the first cut of the knife.
Then he gritted his teeth, the beads of sweat swelling on his brow while Mia cleaned the wound in hot water.
When she applied the salve, he swayed sideways as if he were going to faint.
But he heeded her instruction to tell her about the horses he tended to while she wound a fresh bandage around his arm and secured it with a knot.
When Mia finished, she placed a light hand on his arm.
“Bravo,” she said. “I commend your courage.”
Brodie shook his head, his cheeks flaming, and exhaled sharply. “I wasnae brave, ma’am. I’ve never been so fearful in my life. Murdoch already thinks me a coward. He’ll—”
“I think we can ignore what Murdoch thinks,” Mia said. “You confess that you were afraid, yet still you came, and weathered my treatment without a word.”
“B-but I cried.”
“At the first cut, then you were silent. Do you have any idea how many men screamed and cried for their mothers for far less when I treated them at the hospital?”
“Ye worked in a hospital?”
“I assisted a doctor in London. Dr. McIver—one of your countrymen.”
“Then ye’re not…” He colored and lowered his gaze.
“Not a witch?” Mia said, unable to disguise the bitterness in her voice. “Or a charlatan? Perhaps, Brodie, you should discover the truth for yourself rather than listen to tattle.”
His color heightened and his lip wobbled as another tear splashed onto his cheek.
“Forgive me, that was unkind,” she said. “You’re in pain and a doctor should always put her patients first. Shall I make us some tea?”
“Oh, I dinnae know if I should…”
“It’s a tea to help with your pain. I’ll brew it for you now, then you can take some with you to brew yourself—or perhaps ask Mrs. McBride at the castle to help. But I’d like to see you again tomorrow, to see how you’re healing. Now, take a seat by the fire.”
Cradling his arm, he complied, and as Mia rose to make the tea, she heard another knock—a faint scratch, almost imperceptible—and went to the door.
A thin woman stood in the doorway. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and she looked as if she might dissolve into the air at the slightest breath of the wind. Her eyes were dark, almost black against the pallor of her skin.
Mia’s stomach fluttered with apprehension. Was it a ghost?
Then the woman spoke.
“F-forgive me”—she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening with fear—“Y-Yer Ladyship, but I thought I might…”
“Evie!” Brodie cried, and he appeared at Mia’s side. Then he peered out of the door. “Are ye on yer own?”
“Aye,” the woman said, in a thin, reedy voice. “Murdoch’s out cutting peat and Billy’s at school all day, so I thought”—she resumed her gaze on Mia—“I-I thought…” She stepped back. “F-forgive me. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Nonsense,” Brodie said. “Ye should come in, seeing as ye’ve come all the way here. Murdoch needn’t know where ye’ve been.”
The woman frowned and stared at Mia.
“This is my cousin Evie,” Brodie said. “She’s Ailsa and Billy’s ma. She’s not been well, have ye, Evie?”
“Would you like to come in?” Mia said, offering her hand. “There’s no need to be afraid. Despite what you may have heard, I’m no witch.”
“Och, I ken that, Yer Ladyship,” Evie said, “but if my Murdoch hears I’ve been—”
“Did you know, Evie, that all doctors pledge an oath of confidentiality to their patients?” Mia said.
“I am duty bound not to utter a word of what passes between me and those who seek treatment. Not even to those who believe that they have ownership of another person. You’ll be quite safe here.
Brodie won’t say anything, will you, Brodie? ”
“Evie knows I wouldnae, dinnae ye, lass?”
“Come in, then,” Mia said. “I’ve just finished making some tea, if you’d like a cup.”
She ushered Evie into the parlor and settled her into a chair by the fire. On impulse, she reached for a blanket and draped it over the woman’s knees. Evie clung to it, her thin, bony fingers curling into the fabric.
Brodie kneeled at Evie’s feet and took her hands. “How are ye?” he said. “I’ve not seen ye for a fortnight.”
Evie glanced at Mia, and Mia left the cousins while she made the tea. When she returned, Brodie was still at Evie’s feet. They stopped talking and watched her, unease in their eyes as she set the tray on the table.
“Here’s your tea, Brodie,” Mia said. “It’s made from willow bark with a spoon of honey to alleviate the bitterness. It’ll help with your pain.” Then she handed a cup to Evie, who cradled it in her hands before taking a sip. “How can I help you, Evie?”
“Och, it’s nothing, ma’am. I’ll just be on my way once I’ve had my tea.”
“Evie, tell her,” Brodie said. “There’s no need for shame, for all that Murdoch says.”
Mia let out a huff. Murdoch, it seemed, had a lot to answer for. “And what does Murdoch say?”
Evie colored, and Brodie took her hand and nodded. “Go on.”