Chapter 5
Chapter Five
MORRIGAN
For two days, Morrigan had confined herself in her chamber to allow the bruises to heal. The swelling of her lip was much improved, but in its place, hideous patches of purple and green discolored the skin on her forehead, cheek, and jaw.
If it were left up to her, she’d have stayed in her room for a week, but Isabella had other plans.
The physician stood in her doorway, wearing her coat and hat and holding her medical bag. “I am going into the village to see a new patient. I need you to come with me.”
“Can’t you ask Maisie?”
“She already has plans for an outing this morning with her sister-in-law Fiona and the girls. Put on your coat. It’ll do you good to stretch your legs.”
As a university-trained physician, Isabella was an anomaly everywhere, and not only in the Highlands.
She was devoted to the art of healing. Since arriving at Dalmigavie, despite being Cinaed’s wife, she’d continued to treat the sick and the injured.
Her reputation was quickly spreading, for she was quite good at what she did.
Still, she was an outlaw in the eyes of the Crown, so the infirm traveled to her when they could.
Some she saw inside the castle walls. Others she treated in the village.
As a female doctor, she followed the same routine that she had in Edinburgh. Someone accompanied her when she tended to the sick. At Dalmigavie, her only options were Morrigan or Maisie.
“Who is sick?”
“I’ll tell you along the way.”
“A villager?”
“An outsider.”
Isabella motioned for her to hurry. Between the large, woolen tam and the high collar of her coat, Morrigan could keep at least some of the bruising hidden. After changing from her slippers into sturdy boots, Morrigan followed the other woman out into the corridor and down the dark stairwell.
“Has anyone asked about me?”
“Everyone. Auld Jean. Searc. Blair.” Isabella glanced back at her. “Fiona’s daughters get up early every morning just to sit at the window to watch you exercise in the training yard. This morning alone, a dozen people must have asked me what’s ailing you.”
To know so many cared warmed her heart. She was accepted here, welcomed, liked. These people were her chosen family. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth, of course.” Isabella sent her a sidelong look. “I should tell you, however, Blair and his men were highly entertained at the image of you stumbling over your own feet and giving yourself a fat lip.”
“I don’t care if they laugh, so long as Searc doesn’t stop me from going in to Inverness with them.”
“Well, about that . . . we need to discuss the topic a wee bit more before you step foot away from Dalmigavie again.”
A maternal warning or a sister’s friendly word of caution? Isabella had the ability to shift her role easily, depending on what the situation warranted. But regardless of the part she played, she was always the lioness, ready to protect Maisie and Morrigan.
Blair was waiting by the courtyard door to escort them into the village. The tall Highlander cocked his head to the side, assessing Morrigan’s face as she stepped out into the sun.
“I never thought of ye as the clumsy sort, lass. Why didn’t ye tell us on our way back from Inverness that ye were hurt?”
“What for?”
“I’d have gone back and given the cobblestones of that street a pounding for tripping ye up.”
“I couldn’t say anything. I was worried that you or Searc might faint dead away at the sight of a few drops of blood.”
Blair grinned. “Well, I can see yer mouth is still working.”
They hurried to catch up with Isabella, who was striding off at a quick pace.
It was good to be outside. Two days of self-imposed isolation in her room might have been important for her physical healing, but they’d been brutal on her mind.
Far too much time to think, to remember the things she was supposed to keep buried.
Morrigan took a deep breath of fall air and turned her attention to Isabella. “So, who is this we’re seeing? What’s wrong with him . . . or is it her?”
“Him.”
For many years Morrigan had shadowed her father at the medical clinic he and Isabella ran on Infirmary Street in Edinburgh. As a result, she had a solid grasp of diseases, as well as what to do to be useful at a sick person’s bedside.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He has some kind of lung disease, struggling to breathe.”
“Consumption?”
“I haven’t seen him. We’ll soon find out.”
So many were dying of the disease all over Europe. She recalled discussions of the growing epidemic in Edinburgh. “Where are they keeping him?”
“In the empty cottage on the far side of the fields, the one by the edge of the forest. Before coming here to Dalmigavie, they stayed at the hunting lodge,” Isabella told her.
“Apparently, he needs a doctor badly, but Searc didn’t want me going so far to see him.
This morning, they brought him up to the village. ”
Morrigan glanced at a group of children running with a pair of dogs between the cottages. “Is it safe to bring someone so sick to the village?”
“They’re keeping him inside. I don’t want you to come past the threshold.”
“How about you?”
“If it is consumption, I’ve treated patients with it before. But he could have something else entirely.” Isabella squeezed Morrigan’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”
There was no sense in arguing when the physician side of Isabella took over. She didn’t see danger. She didn’t care about her own safety. There were no faces, only patients. She became totally focused on what she had to do. Friends and enemies were treated the same.
“Who brought him here? His kin?”
“Not his kin. I don’t know their connection, but he’s traveling with the Grant brothers.”
“Don’t know them.”
“Aidan and Sebastian Grant. Aidan is an Edinburgh barrister. From what I hear, he is a young man of great character and promise. Queen Caroline and Mr. Brougham, her attorney, wanted Cinaed to meet him. Sebastian, the younger brother, is a solicitor. A war hero too, they tell me.”
No one had any prior knowledge of Cinaed’s mother’s visit to Dalmigavie last month, except Maisie’s husband, Niall Campbell. And much of Queen Caroline’s time here was spent behind closed doors, visiting with her son and Highland clan leaders.
“Aidan Grant could be a strong contender to represent Inverness-shire in Parliament. That is, if my husband can get him interested in running in the next election and then gather enough support for him.”
In spite of the defamatory flyers, Cinaed definitely had the Highland’s attention and support.
As far as a military expertise, he had Niall Campbell, a former lieutenant in the 42nd Royal Highlanders.
Morrigan could see that political allies working inside the system, especially in Parliament, would be a necessity, as well.
She recalled the men who’d traveled to Dalmigavie with Queen Caroline last month.
Fashionable, courtly attire. Refined manners.
Most of them totally ill at ease in the rugged fortress and at close quarters with the tough, plain-speaking Highland folk.
She glanced around, taking in the sights and smells of the rustic village.
Farm animals wandered freely in the muddy lanes and between the cottages, where smoke from cooking fires hung thick and pungent over thatched roofs.
This place was far different from London or the cities of the continent the outsiders were accustomed to.
Heads turned in the village center as they passed the kirk and the market cross. Isabella received the courtesy of doffed caps and curtsies, and she paused several times to speak with villagers before they continued on.
“I assume the brothers aren’t sharing the cottage with the sick man.”
Isabella shook her head. “They have a clerk traveling with them as well. He’s staying with the patient. Searc wants them at the castle until Cinaed returns.”
Morrigan considered this news. Everyone was expecting the son of Scotland, the laird, and Niall to return by the end of the month.
Everyday life at Dalmigavie was a communal affair.
In the same way as it had been done for as long as anyone knew, most meals were shared in the Great Hall.
Guests dined in a rustic style along with Mackintosh retainers.
The fact that the Grants were staying at the castle meant Morrigan would be seeing quite a bit of them.
“Tell me more about them.”
“The Grants are a large and important family, I’m told.
The chief is building a town on the Spey River with the idea of employing Highland folk who have been evicted from their homes.
These two grew up on a family estate called Carrie House, which is two days’ ride to the west of us.
Apparently, they refuse to clear their tenants, as many of the large landowners are doing.
A cousin manages the properties while the brothers practice law in Edinburgh.
For the next month or so, they have business in Inverness. ”
“Why Inverness?”
“Aidan is representing the Chattan brothers in court.”
Many conversations as of late in the Great Hall had touched on Edmund and George Chattan. They were due to be tried for planning to murder the Lord Mayor of Elgin and the Military Governor of the Highlands, but the trial was being moved to Inverness for fear of riots in Elgin.
“Have you met them?”
“Not as yet. They only arrived this morning.”
“You know a lot about them.”
“From Searc. You know the way he is.” They exchanged a look. “He’s known the family for years. He did some business with their late father, though he was characteristically vague about the specifics. While the trial is going on, the brothers will be staying at his house in Inverness.”
Morrigan thought about the rambling house in the Maggot with its many wings and mazelike corridors. On any given day, friends and enemies and business partners paid calls on Searc when he was in town. That house was a hub of both legal and illegal activity in the region.