Chapter Thirty
“There!” Mia said, rolling down the little girl’s sleeve. “Well done for being such a brave girl.”
“Ma said it wouldnae hurt,” Ada said. “And it didnae—not at all.”
Mia raised an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe a wee bit,” Ada said, “but not as much as when ye treated my shoulder. Thank ye, ma’am.”
“Ye should be thanking me, Ada. It was me who passed the special medicine on.”
Ada turned to the boy who’d just spoken, who sat on the edge of Mia’s table, swinging his legs.
“Thank ye, Jamie.” Blushing, Ada leaned over to kiss the boy on the cheek.
“Bleurgh!” Jamie shrank back, but he made no attempt to wipe his cheek, and his face turned a similar shade to Ada’s.
Mia exchanged a smile with Ada’s mother.
“Your daughter shouldn’t feel any worse than you did after your vaccination,” she said.
“Being a child, she should recover more quickly. But keep her home for at least two days. I’ll give you some willow bark should you need it, but if you have any concerns, send for me and I’ll come directly. ”
“Did I do right by not bringing Ada sooner?” Aileen said. “She’s not been well. I kept her away from school, as she’d taken a chill and I didnae want to take her out until she’d recovered.”
“That was the sensible thing to do,” Mia said, placing a hand on the woman’s arm.
“It’s best to take the vaccine while healthy to avoid being overwhelmed.
I’d only advocate taking it when unwell if there was an outbreak of smallpox, when the risk of taking the vaccine is minimal compared to the alternative. ”
The kitchen door opened and Iona appeared. “Shall I make tea?”
“Och, no need to bother, lass,” Aileen said. “We mustn’t take up any more of yer time. Ada, lass, let’s get ye home and tucked up in front of a fire. Do ye want to come with us, Jamie, lad? That is, if Miss Lucas isn’t expecting any more patients today?”
Iona’s eyes narrowed at Aileen’s address.
Mia shook her head. “No one else is coming today.”
“If they do, they can come back tomorrow,” Iona said. “Ye must be exhausted, Mia. How many folk have ye treated today? Ten?”
“Eleven, counting Ada,” Mia said.
“Then it’s time we left ye in peace,” Aileen said. “Come along, Ada. Ye too, Jamie.”
“Wait,” Iona said. “I’ve a piece of shortbread for each of ye brave children. Ye can take a piece also if ye wish, Aileen.”
“That’s very kind, thank ye.”
Iona smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.
“She’s in good spirits,” Aileen whispered. “I’m glad she has a friend in ye. She was always a little…” She made a random gesture as her voice trailed off. “Not that I wish to offend anyone, but she’s always been a bit of a handful. The old laird was always too harsh with her.”
“Iona’s been a great help with the vaccinations,” Mia said. “She was the first to take it after I returned from Glasgow, and though I was concerned about her health, she made a quick recovery.”
“Her health? Is she sickening for something?”
Mia cursed her folly. Iona’s secret would not be such for long. Though she had taken to wearing multiple shawls, her thickening waist wouldn’t be easily concealable for much longer. But it wasn’t Mia’s secret to tell.
“I’m concerned about the health of every patient I treat,” she said, as Iona reappeared. “Ah! Here’s the shortbread. Who deserves a slice?”
“Me!” the children chorused.
Iona held out a package, which Ada grasped, her eyes wide as she inhaled the sweet scent of freshly baked biscuits.
“Mind ye dinnae eat yer ma’s slice,” Iona said. “If ye’re good, I’ll let ye have two slices next time ye visit. Or I could ask Mrs. McBride to show ye how to make it at the castle. What do ye say to that?”
“Ooh, yes!” Ada said, trembling with excitement.
“Good lass. Now, mind ye tell all yer friends to come and take the vaccine. There’s plenty of folk hereabouts who haven’t.”
“Is that so?” Aileen said. “Tell me who they are and I’ll speak to them.”
“They’ll come if they want,” Mia said.
“Aye, but sometimes they need a good kick up the arse,” Aileen said. “It’s not the women, it’s the men, who think they rule the world. Take poor Evie—she wants to take the vaccine, and give it to her bairns, but that fool Murdoch won’t let her.”
“Och, Murdoch won’t listen to anyone but himself,” Iona said. “I thought he’d listen to me, but he said I was…” She shook her head. “It disnae matter what he said. He’s an arse.”
“Ma,” Ada said, “what’s an—”
“That’s enough, Ada!” Aileen said.
Iona blushed. “Forgive me for cursing in front of yer bairn.”
“No matter, lass. Ada hears worse from my Allan.”
“Couldn’t yer Allan persuade Murdoch to take the vaccine?” Iona said.
Aileen shook her head. “He wouldnae hear a word from Allan on the matter—not even when Allan told him about young Donald’s sweetheart.”
“Donald?” Mia said, flicking through the papers on her table. She ran her thumb along the list of names. “Ah, there he is—I thought I recognized the name. He came for the vaccine a fortnight ago. What’s his sweetheart’s name?”
“She’s not one of us. She’s a MacDouglas.
Donald said she’s had to stay at home to take care of her grandma, who fell ill a day after her ma.
He said she’s not expected to last long, but she’s an old ’un.
Eighty summers, they say she’s seen. My ma only lasted seventy, and she was as hale as the best of them. ”
“Perhaps I should visit the MacDouglases,” Mia said.
“Ye dinnae want to do that, lass. Folk there are unwelcoming toward outsiders—Sassenachs in particular.”
“Folk here aren’t too welcoming either,” Mia said before she could stop herself. “Oh, forgive me, Aileen, I didn’t mean you.”
Iona colored and picked up Mia’s papers, shuffling through them. Her gaze wandered over the list of names, then stilled, and her mouth set in a firm line. Moisture glittered in her eyes.
“Well, I’ll leave ye two in peace,” Aileen said. “Shall I send Allan over with a leg of mutton for yer supper?”
“That’s kind, but not necessary,” Mia said. “I don’t expect payment for my services.”
“What about a gift from a grateful friend?”
Mia caught her breath as her heart swelled. “Only if you can spare it.”
“Och, just bring it, Aileen!” Iona said. “Do ye have such an abundance of friends, Mia, that ye dinnae wish for one more?”
Jamie sidled up to Ada and offered his hand. “Come on!” he said brightly. “Ye’ll need help getting home, won’t ye?”
After they left, Mia closed the door and leaned against it.
“Why dinnae ye rest while I make tea?” Iona said.
“It’s you who should be resting.”
Iona’s hand drifted to her belly. Then she glanced at the list of names on the table and blushed.
“Has…” Mia hesitated, unwilling to broach the subject that had been left unspoken since she’d learned of Iona’s condition. “Has your child’s father said…”
“He disnae want me,” Iona said, “so I dinnae want him. He only wanted to tell his friends he’d put his cock in the laird’s sister. Then he called me a hure, saying he’d tell Hamish that I’ve been spreading my legs around the clan like Maisie, and anyone could be the father.”
Mia raised her hands in supplication. “Forgive me. I won’t mention it again. But people will find out eventually. At the very least, you should tell Hamish.”
“Why? He disnae care about me.”
“I think you’ll find he cares about you very much, even if he cannot show it.”
Iona pushed out her bottom lip and folded her arms.
“Very well, what about your mother?” Mia said. “Eilidh was the first one here to welcome me without judgment, when others were all too ready to…”
Her voice trailed off as Iona’s eyes filled with tears.
“Well, that’s all in the past.” She took Iona’s hand. “But you need a friend. I might not be here when you enter your confinement.”
Iona sniffed, then lifted her hand to her mouth and swayed sideways.
“I knew you’d been overtaxing yourself today,” Mia said. “Take a seat and I’ll make tea. I’ll give you a moment to yourself while I fetch the water.”
She retrieved a pan from the kitchen, then exited the cottage and made her way to the river. Her breath misted in the cold air, but as she turned her head to the sky, the sun bathed her face with a gentle warmth.
She smiled to herself—if anyone had asked her a year ago if she’d be able to survive a life in the cold, unforgiving environment of the Highlands, without the comforts of a London home, she’d have laughed.
But here she was, in a land where the air was as fresh as the sweetest grass, where even the frost that gripped the land, making it iron hard, held a particular beauty, glimmering like diamonds in the winter sunlight.
The river brought forth its own style of beauty. Though the water moved too rapidly to freeze compared to the Thames in London, ice crystals had formed on the edge of the river, sprouting like tiny shoots, their silvery-white tendrils stretching out where the water lapped against the shore.
Mia crouched beside the water’s edge and traced a tendril with her fingertip. Soft footsteps approached and she smiled.
“I thought you were going to take a rest, Iona.”
“How did ye know it was me?”
Mia turned to see the girl staring at her, her brilliant-green eyes wide in her pale face.
In her woolen gown that stretched over her swollen belly, her frame thin and delicate, she was the most vulnerable-looking creature Mia had ever seen.
She rose, suppressing the urge to take the girl in her arms.
Who would protect Iona when she was gone?
A twig snapped in the distance and Mia glanced up.
Then she caught the familiar white flash of a deer disappearing through the trees into the density of the forest. Rory had said that the harsh weather would drive the deer off the higher slopes, and he’d been right.
Since the frosts had begun, Mia had been gifted most mornings with a visit from the gentle brown creatures, some of which were bold enough to come within reach and let her stroke their soft fur before skittering away, like children playing a game of dare.
“If I promise to tell Ma,” Iona said, “will ye make me a promise in return?”
Mia opened her mouth to say that it depended on the promise, but the plea in the girl’s eyes cut through her heart.
She nodded. “Of course.”
“And ye’ll keep yer promise?”
Mia rose and extended her hand. “Yes,” she said, approaching Iona, who took her hand, curling her thin fingers around Mia’s in a grip that was tight with desperation.
“I-I’m afraid of my confinement,” she said. “Evie almost died when she had young Billy, though that Shona is robust enough to birth over a hundred bairns. Will ye promise not to leave Glenblath until after I’ve had my baby?”
Another twig snapped, then a deep voice roared, “Until ye’ve had yer what?”
Mia turned toward the voice to see its owner emerging from behind a tree, hands fisted at his sides, his face contorted in pure rage.
It was Hamish.