Chapter Thirty-One
Sweet swiving heaven! Surely his ears deceived him?
But when his sister turned, Hamish saw the evidence in the form of her swollen belly.
“What the fuck is that?” he cried, striding out of his hiding place and gesturing to the evidence of his sister’s whoring.
Iona stepped back, her eyes gleaming with fear. Then the defiance returned.
“What do ye think, brother?” she sneered. “Surely even ye must know, given the amount of rutting ye get up to, what happens when a man sticks his cock in—”
“Iona.”
Though Hamish’s wife spoke softly, Iona paused.
“Try not to distress yourself,” Mia said. “As for you”—she turned to Hamish—“I thought you and I had agreed to remain apart. What are you doing here?”
Ignoring her question, he gestured toward his sister. “How long have ye known about this, Mia?”
“For some weeks, though I fail to understand what business it is of yours.”
“She’s my sister—and she’s unwed. Devil take ye, Iona, have ye no shame?”
“Oh, and I suppose the man had nothing to do with it,” Iona scoffed, folding her arms.
“Bloody Murdoch,” Hamish said with a huff. “I knew he was carrying on, but I didnae know he’d be so foolish as to succumb to yer advances.”
“Hamish, you don’t know—” Mia began, but he interrupted.
“Och, I do! Iona’s been wandering about at night like a stray cat in heat—been seen at all hours with Murdoch—but I didnae think she’d be so foolish as to spread her—”
“Stop!” Mia said. “It takes two people to make a baby. Your sister’s about to be a mother, yet the child will have a father, also.”
Iona let out a groan.
“Devil’s ballocks,” Hamish muttered. “I’ll have to speak to him.”
“No!” Iona cried. “Ye’ll do nothing of the sort. The fa…”—she wrinkled her nose—“the man who sired my child disnae want me. He called me a hure and said that any man could be the father.”
Fuck. It was worse than he’d thought. Was there a man in the whole cursed clan whom she’d not parted her thighs for?
But when Hamish saw the distress in his sister’s eyes, he silenced the voice of condemnation in his head. There’d be plenty of time to admonish her when she’d grown calmer.
As for his wife…
“Did ye not think to tell me about my sister’s…” He paused before he added the word whoring.
Mia arched an eyebrow, her eyes hardening.
“Her…condition,” he said. “I’m her brother and her laird.”
“It’s her body, Hamish,” Mia replied. “It’s not my tale to tell. Though I do regret one thing.”
“Which is?”
“I urged Iona to tell you that she was expecting a child. In my folly, I believed you’d show her kindness and understanding rather than condemnation. I thought you loved her.”
“I do,” he said. “But even ye must understand how this will look—the laird’s sister, with child, and unmarried. Fuck, Iona, I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“Why?” Mia said. “For not keeping under control the women you think you own? We’re not cattle to be tethered and penned when we don’t follow our master’s commands. Yet you have nothing to say against the man who sired Iona’s baby. Doubtless you’ll applaud his virility and ignore his infidelity.”
“So he is married?”
Iona tilted her chin up, cheeks reddening, eyes bright.
“His wife won’t care,” she said. “She spreads her favors around more than Maisie. Which means she’s a fool, seeing as Maisie at least gets a coin when she parts her thighs. A shilling a time, if it’s a quick rutting—isn’t that right, brother? Ye’ve done it often enough.”
“Surely ye dinnae think—”
“Enough!” Iona cried, placing her hands over her ears. “I cannae bear to hear any more!”
Before Hamish could respond, his sister picked up her skirts and ran along the path toward the castle, sobbing. Her crying could still be heard after she’d turned a corner and disappeared.
“That was well done,” Mia said, picking up the pot at her feet.
“What, my sister’s behavior?”
She rolled her eyes, then set off toward the cottage.
“Wait!” he called, following her.
She turned at the door and sighed. “You should go after her. She needs you.”
“She needs a thrashing.”
Mia’s eyes widened, and Hamish shook his head, his initial fury already dissipating.
“Och, no, she disnae. But ye must agree that some of the blame lies with her.”
“She’s barely older than a child herself.”
“She’s a year older than Ma was when she married,” Hamish said. “If she’s old enough to spread her thighs and bear the fruits of her debauchery, then she’s no longer a child.”
“I don’t mean her age,” Mia said. “I meant her character. Any fool can see that Iona’s a wild spirit—she acts on impulse. Perhaps when she’s older she may settle, but before she does…”
“Before she does, I should expect her to continue to behave like an animal? And Ma…” He paused, his gut twisting with horror. “Devil’s ballocks, does Ma know?”
“I don’t think anyone does.”
“I find it hard to believe that, given how brazen she’s been.”
“She’s not brazen. She just wants you to notice her.”
“Then she’s more of a fool than I thought,” he said, tamping down his anger. “Does she want to be thrashed?”
“Would you thrash her?”
“Of course not. But…” He hesitated, tempering the sorrow that lay in his mind, barely concealed by the anger. “I-I dinnae want to fail her, and I have failed her. And Ma will be heartbroken.”
“Iona will tell your mother when she’s ready,” Mia said.
“Why did she tell ye?”
Mia pushed open the cottage door, and he followed her inside. “She didn’t exactly tell me,” she said. “But she told me nonetheless.”
“Do ye talk in riddles?”
Her lips twitched—the precursor, he hoped, to a smile.
“She wanted me to find out, but couldn’t bring herself to tell me, so she asked the right questions.”
“Aye,” he said, almost to himself. “Ye do talk in riddles.”
Mia twisted her mouth, as if to prevent her smile from widening. “Imagine a wife is thirsty and she wants her husband to bring her a pot of tea,” she said. “What would she say to him?”
“I suppose she’d say, ‘Fetch me a pot of tea, husband.’”
“Spoken like a man,” she said. “And what would the husband say? What would Murdoch say if Evie said such a thing?”
He shrugged. “Any self-respecting husband would tell her to fetch it herself because it’s women’s work.”
“Very well,” she said. “Now imagine I’ve come to visit you at the castle. If I were shivering by the fire and told you that I was terribly thirsty and my body was aching with the cold, what might you say?”
“I’d offer ye a cup of tea.”
“And you’d wait for me to fetch it?”
“No, lass, I’d…” His voice trailed away as she burst into laughter, and his heart soared. Anything was better than her contempt.
“You’d make the tea?”
“Och, no, but I’d go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. McBride to make it for ye.”
“What a shockingly modern individual you are for your sex,” she said, and he winced at the edge in her voice. Then she sighed. “I’ve no wish to argue with you, Hamish.”
“But ye’ve still not answered my question. Why did Iona tell ye? She’s hardly shown any liking for ye. In fact, she and Murdoch—”
“Perhaps the less we say about Iona and Murdoch in the same breath, the better. I don’t know for certain who the father is.
I believe she was happy for me to know about her condition because I’m soon to leave Glenblath.
And whom can we trust more with our most intimate secrets than a stranger?
After all, I shan’t be the one staring at her with judgmental eyes after the baby is born. ”
“Will ye stay until then?”
“Yes,” she said. “I made a promise. And I keep my promises.”
All except one.
But Hamish refused to voice the riposte. After all, the dissolution of their marriage was at his insistence. Or, at least, it had been.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “What are you doing here? I thought we’d agreed to remain apart after…” She colored and looked away.
“I came to take the vaccination,” he said.
“For yourself?”
“Aye, and for the benefit of others. How many families haven’t taken it?”
“Twenty or so, if Maisie’s list of names is accurate. I’ve not been able to persuade them. But I didn’t have much hope of Murdoch agreeing. Nor Robbie. Reverend Sutherland took the vaccine last week. I had hoped that the minister taking the vaccine might persuade others to follow.”
“Their laird taking it might persuade more,” Hamish said. “Ma said I ought to show an example for the sake of the clan.”
“So you’re here on your mother’s insistence—and for no other reason?”
“Aye.”
Her smile slipped. “I’m afraid you’re too late.”
“Too late? But ye can administer it now, cannae ye?”
“I need another patient to pass the vaccine on. There’s only young Jamie Sutherland who has the blisters. He’s coming tomorrow, so you could return then.”
“Aren’t ye going to offer me a pot of tea, seein’ as it’s women’s work?”
His feeble little joke did nothing to restore the light that had gone from her eyes.
“You should go after your sister,” she said. “She needs you more than I ever could.”
Her words sliced through his heart. But Mia was right—she didn’t need him. What had he ever done to prove himself worthy of her?
“Iona needs ye also, Mia,” he said. “I’m glad she could tell ye.”
“She’ll need you when I am gone, unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless she comes with me. I’ve said she can if she wishes it.” She gave a wistful smile. “She’s proving to be an adept helpmate and would make a competent nurse.”
“Ye—and Iona?” He shook his head. “She’s never succeeded at anything other than irking her brother.”
“Perhaps that’s why she asked if I might consider taking her with me when I leave Glenblath,” Mia said. “A rejected wife and a rejected sister—ruined woman and unwed mother. We can be misfits together.”
“Och, ye’re not a ruined…” His voice trailed off as her expression hardened. “Forgive me, Mia,” he whispered.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she replied. “I ruined myself. It was my mistake. But in a short while, it will not matter.”
“No, it won’t,” he said, unable to disguise the bitterness in his voice. “Come Candlemas, ye’ll be free of us.”
“Candlemas?”
“The next quarter day. I hope to have raised sufficient funds to meet yer demands, though if the tenants are unable to provide the cash ye seek, ye might have to do with a few head of cattle in lieu of the rest.”
Her mouth settled into a straight, firm line. “I’ll take what you have to give if it grants my freedom.”
“In which case, I’ll write to my lawyer in Edinburgh to proceed with the annulment.”
“Very good,” she said, rising. “I’ll see you tomorrow for your vaccination, then we needn’t meet again unless to discuss the settlement.”
Had he imagined it, or was there a tremor in her voice? But the expression in her eyes was shuttered.
Considering himself dismissed, and unable to think of what to say that didn’t make him look even more of a fool, Hamish bowed and saw himself out.
Only by the time he arrived at the castle had his mind formulated an appropriate response: a wish that they might remain friends, perhaps write to each other so that he might hear of her successes—and successes they’d undoubtedly be—on her road to becoming a doctor.
But it was too late. Why could he never think of the right thing to say to her when he’d had no trouble conversing with women before—or enticing them into his bed?
Perhaps it was because, for the first time in his life, he feared saying the wrong thing.
He cared what Mia thought of him. The depth of his feelings for her had lain dormant in a corner of his soul, where it had been given the spark of life the day he’d first met her in that sorrowful little London parlor. But now, his soul was filled with it.
The castle doors opened to reveal Hamish’s mother, her face contorted with distress.
Fuck.
So Iona had told her. Or, more likely, in her cowardice she’d merely revealed her swollen belly.
“Och, Hamish!” Ma reached toward him.
He took her in his arms and pulled her close. “Dinnae distress yerself,” he said. “I’m not angry. I was at first, but I’m resigned to it now.”
“Resigned?” she cried. “How can ye be so cruel when ye’ve seen the evidence?” She shook her head. “What shall we do? We must tell Mia—she’ll know how to ensure we survive.”
“Ma, aren’t ye being a little overexcited?” he said. Then he smiled inwardly at Mia’s remonstration. “Come inside and I’ll make ye a pot of tea.”
“Tea? Is that what ye think will save us when there’s so many lives at risk?”
“What the devil are ye talking about? Iona will be well.”
“Not Iona, son—i-it’s Ailsa. She spent her Sunday afternoon off with that MacDouglas lad—ye know, young Taran, who’s undergardener at MacDouglas Castle—and she’s been taken ever so bad this morning, shaking, feverish, and the marks on her face…
Och!” She covered her face with her hands.
“I’ve never seen anything the like. Ye must fetch Mia, for she’ll know what to do.
But son, so many souls here haven’t taken the vaccine—what are we to do? ”
Vaccine?
Dear God, no…
Tears ran down her cheeks—the woman who had birthed him, survived an abusive marriage, influenza, and several harsh winters that would have seen off the hardiest of folk succumbed to despair at the notion of the suffering of the people who depended on her.
Hamish drew her into his arms and uttered a silent prayer to the Almighty that He would spare every soul whose life was at risk when faced with the inevitable.
Smallpox had come to Glenblath.