“Thank ye for coming tae watch me. ‘Tis appreciated, especially in such dreary weather.”
Her younger sister shrugged. “It’s so ye’ll know our father isn’t the only one who’s proud of ye. Even ifyeare the only one he is proud of,” she added with a sigh.
Romilly took her hand, squeezing it. “He will come to see yer worth someday, Katherine. I am sure of it. And even if he never does, I do. And when my time comes tae serve this clan, I’ll have ye by my side.”
Katherine fervently hoped this prediction would come true someday.
Somehow, though, she doubted it.
1
The years passed, and by the time Katherine turned nineteen, it was abundantly clear that the future Romilly spoke of would never come to pass.
By then, Angus had ceased to hope for a male heir, and became all the more obsessed with preparing Romilly to act as his implement of subtle conquest. He would observe her physical training all day, and by night, the two of them would adjourn to his study so that they might conceive their schemes until well past midnight. Sometimes Katherine would press her ear to the door as they spoke, and the details of their plotting often chilled her to the bone. They talked of destabilizing other clans from within through an arranged marriage, and wove such dark webs of manipulation and violence that Katherine could scarcely believe her ears.
Annabel’s headaches grew more severe and constant, until she remained in her chamber day and night, rarely emerging even to eat. Angus did not seem to notice. He had long since given up on enjoying her company, and now his every waking moment was dedicated to his firstborn daughter.
Romilly’s attentiveness to her younger sister waned, replaced with an almost maniacal focus on pleasing their father and ensuring the clan’s supremacy. Gone were the days when she offered any support to Katherine whatsoever. Like the rest of the family, she barely seemed to notice her sibling’s presence at all. On those rare occasions when she did, it was generally with annoyance and disdain, as though Katherine was distracting her from far more important matters.
And so Katherine roamed the castle aimlessly most days, quietly gathering sewing implements and bits of fabric, whistling to herself as she did so. When she managed to collect enough of them, she went to the stables, selected a suitable horse, and rode to various villages in the McGregor lands. There, she would gather a dozen or so of the young lasses together and instruct them on how to sew more intricate and lovely patterns than their mothers could teach them.
When Katherine began this practice, many of the mothers objected, for they felt it was presumptuous for someone else to teach their daughters how to sew. They initially believed that it was Katherine’s way of calling them inadequate and beneath her. However, they were in no position to refuse, for she was still of the clan’s ruling family, even if her fellow McGregors did not think she was of much account.
None of that reflected what was in Katherine’s heart, though. She merely wished to help, to make herself useful in any way, to feel as though her life had some purpose. When she sensed the mothers’ displeasure, she made sure to tell them that she found the dress patterns they used to be perfectly adequate as well. She merely wished to show the young ladies how to create more elaborate clothes, like the ones worn by nobles. In doing so, they might adorn themselves with fancier attire, and feel better about themselves as a result.
After a while, when the women saw that Katherine’s intentions were good, they were happy to have their daughters in attendance; indeed, many of them remained to watch and learn as well. Some of them even embraced it to the point that they became dressmakers themselves, and their husbands would ride to more distant towns and farms to sell them.
All of this made Katherine happy, but more than that, it gave her something to do. It presented a serviceable excuse to put the castle and its disagreeable inhabitants behind her, and forget her troubles for a while.
So she went about her business on a rainy and dreary day, riding to one of the nearer villages and inviting the girls to the dryness and warmth of a barn so they would not be soaked and chilly during the lesson. They were delighted to see her as always, and for the next few hours, they watched her examples and listened to her teachings, hanging on her every word.
It was good to have anyone’s prolonged attention, though Katherine would not admit that to herself as a motive for conducting these lessons. It made her feel less like a listless phantom overall.
Katherine knew she needed to leave soon, but the idea of returning to the stronghold pained her so that she searched for excuses to remain a while longer.
“Bonnie, how has yer father’s leg been faring?”
“Quite well, thank ye fae askin’!” the young girl chirped.
He had injured himself rather badly the previous month while trying to remove the stones from his field, and so had been unable to tend to his farm or chores for a while.
“And ye, Fiona?” Katherine turned to one of the skinnier lasses, with a thick head of frizzy red hair. “Have ye yet managed tae secure the affections of that lad ye had yer eye upon?”
Fiona’s face turned a deep scarlet, and she peered down at the ground bashfully. “Hamish has begun tae notice me, I think.”
At this, the other girls squealed with delight, causing poor Fiona to blush even more fiercely.
But eventually, her time with these lasses ended, as it always did, and Katherine had to say her farewells and return to the castle. Every time she did, she wondered if any of her family would notice if she simply rode in the other direction, away, forever.
She doubted it.
She had always had such musings with regard to her mother and father, but now she harbored those same doubts about her sister too. Romilly barely seemed to acknowledge her existence anymore, despite their former closeness.
These thoughts continued to traipse through Katherine’s troubled mind as she took in the familiar sights on the road back home. There were few dwellings along the way, just the occasional tree or farm, and the overall silence of it could sometimes feel oppressive to her. She supposed it was merely that she dreaded her inevitable return to the stronghold.
This time, as she approached it, she saw a strange sight awaiting her; Romilly, standing by the front gates with her arms folded and a judgmental countenance.
“Been off to see those silly peasants again, have ye?” Romilly sneered when Katherine drew close enough to hear.
