‘Aye.’ Sorcha smiled, remembering the priest’s advice and guidance. ‘He is so very different from the priest who served our clan.’
‘And what did he tell you?’ Her cousin shook her head then. ‘Or more importantly, what did you tell him?’
‘’Twas difficult not telling him the truth of it. I explained it as you told me—my husband had died, his family was not welcoming,’ she said, listing the important details of her story. ‘No family left of my own. My devotion to God.’ She paused for a moment, praying that God would forgive her trespass. ‘He urged me to pray and think on it for a while. He offered to contact my cousin there, but I declined.’
‘Are you not ready to go then?’ Clara asked her.
‘I...’ Sorcha put the mending down on her lap and looked at Clara. ‘I did not want him contacting her and mentioning someone who does not exist, Clara. She may remember Sorcha, Erca’s daughter, but Saraid MacPherson would mean nothing to her and yet would begin to raise questions. Questions that would be dangerous to me if asked of the wrong people in the wrong places.’
‘That makes sense,’ Clara agreed.
‘I cannot remain here for very long though. Not with the ties that are between the Mackintoshes and the Camerons. Someone may recognise me at some time. Nay,’ she said as she placed the garment in her hands on her lap. ‘The convent is my choice.’
‘I am not trying to rush you or make you leave here,’ Clara said. ‘Once made, it is not a vow that can be undone or denied.’
‘I understand. I have made the decision.’ She let out a breath. ‘It would be safer for me and you and Jamie if I left soon.’
Silence met her declaration. Clara had not withheld her opinion on any matter since Sorcha had arrived at her door those weeks ago. So, this absence of a comment or advice was startling. She waited, for she knew her cousin well enough now to know it was simply a pause and not something that would not happen. Sorcha smiled when Clara opened her mouth.
‘I think you should stay here a bit longer,’ she said. ‘Truly, Sorcha, you are too young to lock yourself away for the rest of your life. Whether for the good purpose of devotion to God or to protect others, do not do that yet.’
When Sorcha would have spoken, Clara gestured with her finger on her lips to stop her.
‘Besides, you do not even ken how to make a decent porridge yet.’
‘Or a loaf of bread,’ Sorcha added.
‘Or a savoury stew.’
‘Or wash a tubful of laundry,’ she said. ‘There is so much I have never had to do before, Clara. And though I have failed, there is much I would like to learn.’
‘You have not failed,’ Clara assured her. ‘Your life has been a privileged one as befits one of your birth. That your mother taught you to want to do the simple things is a credit to her and to you.’ Sorcha felt tears burning in her eyes and a tightness in her throat. ‘Your mother would be proud.’
Honour. Loyalty. Courage.
Her motherhadtaught her so much. An appreciation of the service others give you. A sense of curiosity and wonderment. A need for joy.
So, would it be a bad thing that, before she entered the convent and gave her life over to God, she would live it a bit first? As Saraid MacPherson, widowed cousin, staying on to help Clara and Jamie. And she would learn to do the things that people like her cousin took for granted.
In that moment, the image of a tall, strong warrior with long brown hair and eyes of blue and green and grey came to mind. Was he part of the reason she wished to stay here now? Sorcha decided not to examinethattoo closely right this moment.
Sorcha stood and retrieved her cloak and the small sharp knife that Clara used to cut fabric and threads. Sitting down under her cousin’s watchful gaze, she cut along the hem and took out the treasures she had carried with her from Castle Sween...and from her mother. When a small pile sat on her lap and only a few remained in place, Sorcha gathered them into a small sack and held them out to her cousin. Clara did not speak, could not speak, Sorcha would guess. The sight of so many jewels of such value rendered her speechless and surprised beyond words.
‘Jamie suggested these might be safer in his strongbox. Since I am staying, I think it’s best if they are put away.’
‘You are?’
‘Aye. I am. There is much I would like to ken and to learn before facing the convent and its walls.’
‘How long will you stay?’ Clara asked, as the bairns began to wake and whisper in the next room.
‘For the rest of the summer. Unless I am found out sooner.’
As the children woke and the next set of chores and tasks began, Sorcha smiled. The strange thing was that amidst the dread of cooking a meal and washing clothes, a sense of anticipation grew over next seeing Alan Cameron.
But he did not visit and she did not see him at the keep or in the village for several days.
Chapter Eight
