The word repeated over and over in her thoughts as they finished the meal at table and as she followed Lady Mackintosh out of the hall and up to her solar above-stairs. With a discreet motion of her hand, she dismissed anyone who thought to follow or enter the room when they arrived. With the grace of an angel and the appearance of one, too, the lady crossed the chamber to a table and some chairs before stopping.
This woman did not have the reputation of being the most beautiful woman in the Highlands, if not all of Scotland, erroneously. Though that reputation was born out of her lovely looks at an earlier age many years ago, neither ageing nor strife nor a marriage to one of the most powerful men in the land had diminished that appearance. Not one grey hair showed on her head and her skin and eyes carried the brightness of a much younger woman. The lady sat in one chair and, as befitted her new identity, Sorcha remained standing opposite her.
‘Father tells me that you have excellent skills in reading and writing, Mistress MacPherson.’
‘Aye, my lady.’
‘Those could be of benefit in some convents,’ the lady added.
‘Some convents, my lady?’ she asked. Sorcha’s mother had spoken of how few women, even noblewomen, had those abilities and how even fewer used them well. The convent would be the place where she could.
‘Some convents welcome women with skills and put them to use for the good of the Almighty and those whom the convent serves,’ Lady Arabella said. Sorcha nodded for that was exactly what her mother had told her.
‘But some convents, some orders of holy sisters, ignore any and all talents and spend their waking hours on their knees in prayer only.’
That was not what Sorcha had intended to do for the rest of her life. She’d imagined herself spending time in prayer, aye, but also at other tasks as well. Possibly teaching others to read. Or...
‘Truly, it depends on the convent or monastery and the order that they serve. Clara said your kin—a cousin?—serves a convent on Skye?’
‘Aye, my lady.’
‘Do you know which order she serves?’
‘Nay, my lady.’
Sorcha had not bothered to ask. She had only focused on following her mother’s plan and going to Skye. The rest had seemed so far away in both time and place that there was no need to worry over those details. She’d never thought on such things. Sorcha noticed that the lady was watching her closely now.
‘I confess, my lady, my only thought was to go to my cousin and handle the rest of the matter there and then.’
Arabella stood then and walked to one of the open windows that looked out over the training yard from the sounds below. The lady leaned up on her toes and watched out at whoever was fighting. Without turning away from that scene, she spoke.
‘Did you ken that my husband’s uncle is The MacPherson?’
Sorcha clenched her teeth together to prevent the terrible words she wanted to utter just then from escaping. Brodie Mackintosh was related to the MacPhersons. Could her luck be any worse? When the lady turned and smiled, Sorcha thought it probably could and it could right now.
‘If you would like, he could intervene with his uncle to make other arrangements for you? If you have somehow become estranged from your kin, would it help if he mediated the issue? I could ask him to do so.’
Courage. Courage. Courage.
Though her link to the MacPhersons was real and true, Sorcha could not have The Mackintosh or his wife contacting them and asking questions about their treatment, and seeming abandonment, of their widowed kin. That would take her one step closer to having Sorcha MacMillan rise from the dead. If Clara remarked on her resemblance to her own mother, others among the MacPhersons would do the same. Others who had seen her mother, and possibly her, more recently.
Nay, she must keep Lady Arabella from doing this.
‘I beg your pardon, lady, if I have given the impression that The MacPherson or his clan have, in some way, shirked or resisted their duty to their kin. ’Tis not the truth.’ She inhaled and released the breath slowly, trying to calm her racing heart that pounded within her chest. ‘Entering the convent was my desire.’
‘And you would not consider other choices?’
‘Other choices?’ she asked. She could not help that her hands crept together. She clutched them tightly to keep them from shaking.
‘As kin to both Clara and my husband, you are welcome here. I could certainly use someone with your skills to assist me in my duties as Brodie’s wife in overseeing the Mackintoshes.’ The lady smiled then. ‘The children take more and more of my attention and, God willing, there will be more of them soon. To have someone I could rely on to carry out some of the tasks I do now would be more than just helpful, Saraid. ’Twould be a godsend, truly.’
And that would be as close to living her own life as was possible without proclaiming her identity. For a moment, Sorcha allowed herself to dream of that impossible thing. Worse, in that weakness, she began to think that she could marry and have children of her own.
But, none of that was meant to be. To honour her mother’s efforts and plans and Padruig’s sacrifice in getting her away, she must keep on the path she’d chosen. And she had chosen it when she left with Padruig into that dark, stormy night. And again when she chose to come here rather than returning to her father. She could have concocted a story of kidnap on her return and married the chieftain of the Camerons as her father wished her to do.
A chill passed through her then, making her shiver from inside out. She tried to control it, to hide it, from the lady, but she doubted she’d been successful. Lady Arabella missed little even if she did not deign to comment on it. As she did not now, choosing to turn and peer out the window instead.
‘I am honoured at your invitation, my lady. Truly, anyone would be. But, I am decided on this matter.’ Sorcha tried to make her words calm but forceful enough to convince The Mackintosh’s wife. A true Christian would not presume to decide where God would wish her to serve or in which capacity. ‘I will offer myself to the Almighty’s service at the convent of my kin and I will allow Him to decide where my skills should be used.’
