Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Sorrel was standing in the Inn’s dining room, watching the decorators put the new wallpaper up.
It was difficult, being at the Inn, because Tam was there.
She’d tried to talk to him in the past couple of days after their night at the B it felt exactly like a spike pushing into her heart every time he ignored her or answered her briefly, then turned away.
The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that, despite his promise to leave Skye, Simon seemed to have become friends with James and taken up an offer to stay at the castle for a few days.
She knew that James was assuming she was pleased to see Simon; she knew that James was being kind.
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she didn’t want Simon there.
The fact that Tam hadn’t come in to say hi was telling.
If he bothered to talk to me, I could tell him about me and Simon, she thought. But she was too stubborn to force the issue. I’ve tried, several times, she thought, as she answered her emails. I give up.
‘Goodness, I hate seeing everything so upside down.’ Catriona walked in and sat opposite her at the kitchen table.
It was covered with plastic to protect it from the paint and dust; much of her parents’ furniture was in storage, but Sorrel had asked that the table be kept in the Inn so that she had somewhere to work.
‘It makes me sad! It doesn’t feel like home. ’
Sorrel had a lot of memories about that kitchen table. It had been there for countless family meals, birthday parties, late-night sessions with her sisters, gossiping and putting the world to rights.
‘I know, Mum. But we’re getting there slowly, and it’s all going to look amazing when it’s finished. Better than it was before.’ She nodded. ‘What did you think of the plan for the new bathrooms?’
‘The baths are lavish!’ Catriona gushed.
‘I want to have a bath in one as soon as possible. A big, deep bubble bath!’ she exclaimed, excitedly.
Sorrel was relieved to see that her mother was happy; she wanted Catriona to be pleased with the renovation and the repairs.
She’d always tried so hard to make her mother happy: it was ingrained deep in her by now.
‘So, you texted me. You wanted to talk?’ Sorrel asked, cautiously.
Catriona opened her mouth as if to reply, but at that moment, Tam walked in.
‘Oh. Didn’t know you were in here,’ he muttered, brusquely. ‘Hello, Mrs Balhennie.’
‘Tam, dear. Catriona, please.’
‘Catriona. How are you?’ he asked, politely, ignoring Sorrel.
‘As well as can be expected, dear. My daughters are, as ever, testing my patience.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Tam smiled, though Sorrel could tell it was mostly for show. ‘Actually, Sorrel, I did have something I wanted to show you, if you have a minute?’
Sorrel’s stomach clenched. What did he want?
‘Of course, dear. I have things to attend to, anyway.’ Catriona beamed at Tam.
‘Mum. We really need to talk…’ Sorrel reached out for her, but her mother was already at the kitchen door. She sighed and turned to Tam. ‘So, you’re talking to me, then?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said, brusquely.
‘Well, you haven’t been talking to me for a while now. Since the B she felt the energy behind them. It was uncharacteristically cruel, and she felt the impact in her chest. Her heart ached.
‘Wow. Thanks.’ She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. That night at the B she wanted to tell him that what he saw was actually her pushing Simon away.
But it was so clear that Tam had made up his own mind.
Fine. You’ve made up your own mind about what you saw without giving me the benefit of the doubt. You can think what you want. A self-protective instinct, like armour-plating, rose up in her.
‘Okay. Great. Fine.’ Sorrel let out a long breath. She was suddenly very tired. All I’ve done since I got home is worry, she realised. I just don’t have anything left in me to fight this out with Tam now.
‘You had something for me?’ She held out her hand, changing the subject; she was expecting receipts or something similar.
Tam looked at her, askance. For a moment he looked as though he was going to say something more, but then he nodded and handed her an envelope made of thick, cream-coloured paper.
‘Your uncle said he had a look in the records room after you were searching for papers relating to Emma Gordon, and found this, addressed to one of his ancestors. He brought it by for you, but you weren’t here.
I said I’d take it – I don’t think he wanted to go into the caravan. Your dad was around.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ She took it, and opened it. ‘Addressed to one of his ancestors?’
‘So he said. Matthew Balhennie. It’s on the envelope.’ Tam looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but where he was in that moment, but he stood there with her nonetheless.
Matthew Balhennie. MB.
Sorrel opened the envelope and read the letter aloud.
Dear Matthew,
I write this from Holloway Prison, where it seems that I will be for a long time.
All of my life, I have been misunderstood. As a woman, I have tried to mark my way in the world and taken the chances that came towards me. I tried to be resourceful and make something of myself, not letting wealth and class be my barrier.
I am sorry that I was dishonest with you, but only for the fact that I cast a veil over myself and did not allow you to see the true Emma Gordon.
I appeared to you as a rich society lady, and once I had begun in that way, I was unable to change my representation.
As the Laird’s son, you saw me as someone in your social class, and we were able to speak as equals.
I feared being honest with you about who I really was: a girl from a low-class family, gifted with brains and bravery, who has made a way for herself in this life.
I did not expect to fall in love. I have never been in love, and the sensation of it – the strange softness of my heart, the tenderness with which I sought to surround you – startled me. I have not had a life of love. My life has been harsh, and it required me to be harsh.
And yet, that evening, when you spoke to me so passionately in the tavern about the crofters and how you sought to help them in their desperate plight, I was moved.
And I was drawn to you – not just for your passion, but for the light in your soul that warms others.
I was drawn to your eyes, soft and long-lashed.
I was drawn to you as one soul is drawn to another. And as a woman is drawn to a man.
Please forgive me, Matthew. Please know that I did intend to help the crofters.
You will find the hundred pounds in the tree in our special place.
Please use it as you see fit – I know you will do the good I could not.
And I have secured your own future in another way.
If you look in the place that we joked about – the place that the cunning folk leave their devices – you shall find it.
I do not have any bad feelings about taking the dagger.
I took it from your father’s house, and I hope you will forgive me for doing so, Matthew – you, who are profoundly good of heart.
Your father would never have supported our union.
You knew that. I felt that we still deserved his support, even if financial, and so I took the dagger when the opportunity presented itself.
My original intention was that we might sell it to gain passage to the New World, but now that we are parted, I wish to entrust it to you for your safekeeping, or to sell and donate to whatever good cause you choose.
Remember that I love you, and I hope that you may love me, even though I am a scoundrel and a criminal in the eyes of many – even though my main crime was being poor, I often think, and possessed with more wits than most. Still, I will likely hang for my crimes if they ever find the dagger.
I hardly care. If I am apart from you, there is no life that is worth living.
I am yours, always.
Your Emma xxx
‘Oh, my goodness. That is tragic.’ Sorrel found herself unexpectedly moved. ‘I can’t believe this! So, Emma Gordon was in love with this Matthew.’
‘Your great-great-great-grandfather, or something. Yeah.’ Despite the atmosphere between them, Tam still looked intrigued.
‘I mean, she did commit fraud. And theft. She doesn’t deny it.
And the complainant on the summons is Dougal Balhennie, who was the Laird.
So, Matthew’s father was the one chasing for her to be arrested, when his son was in love with her? ’
‘That’s so sad! Do you think that Dougal knew they were in love?’ Sorrel looked up at Tam with wide eyes.
‘Maybe. If he did, he definitely didn’t approve.’ Tam looked away uncomfortably from her earnest gaze.
‘I wonder if he knew where the dagger was? If he ever found it?’
‘Maybe. These letters have been folded and refolded many times. It might have been Matthew who read and re-read them. Who hid them away,’ Tam said, thoughtfully.
‘He knew he couldn’t sell or return the dagger.
She says in her letter she thought she’d hang if it was found, if it could be linked to her.
He must have just decided to keep it secret.
At least that way, she’d stay alive in prison. ’
‘I’m not sure what a worse fate would be. Life in prison or the death sentence,’ Sorrel said, darkly. ‘Prisons then were terrible. Not that they’re exactly nice now.’
‘No. They’re not.’
‘It makes me sad for her. Emma. She was clearly a bright woman, and society had no place for women like her at the time. Rightly or wrongly, she was trying to escape the poverty she grew up in.’
‘I guess I can see where you’re coming from.’ Tam leaned against the wall. ‘I mean, she was a criminal, let’s not forget.’
‘I know that. But you don’t know what drives people to do the things they do.
Especially women, especially in the past, when they had absolutely no rights at all compared to now.
What was she supposed to do? Just wilt and die timidly in some mouldy tenement somewhere?
She fell in love. I’m guessing that wasn’t planned.
How could they be together? They couldn’t, unless they both ran off to the New World together. I wish they’d managed it.’
‘So, you think this is a love story? Pitting their wits against the powers that be, loving against the odds?’ Tam raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah. Why not?’ she asked, cross at the tone in his voice that implied she was being ridiculous. ‘Why can’t it be a love story? Those are some of the classic elements, surely.’
‘Because real life isn’t a love story, Sorrel.’ Tam ran a hand through his hair. ‘People leave. People die. Hearts get broken. The older I get, the more I think it’s better to be alone. At least then you can’t be hurt any more.’
‘I think that’s sad,’ she replied, quietly. ‘Sometimes, love is real.’
Tam nodded.
‘I thought that too. I wish we all got to have happy endings, but we don’t.
Matthew and Emma didn’t. I just think it’s better to be realistic.
’ He shot her a sad smile. Sorrel’s heart ached at the expression in his eyes.
She longed to hold out her hand to him, to bridge the gap that seemed to be growing between them, but she didn’t know how.
Tam seemed too deep in his sadness, his hurt, for her to reach him.
‘I expect you’re right.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘Thanks for this.’ She held up the letter. ‘I should probably be going, anyway.’
‘Okay. See you around.’ He turned away, and Sorrel’s heart, already broken, splintered into thinner and thinner shards.