“Ye almost cut yer hand off! That’s not making stew, that’s making a mess.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to make the stew or clean the sheep shit if you hadn’t fleeced me for years!”
“Well, I wouldnae had to fleece ye if yer brother hadnae left my ma with child and abandoned her!”
The fight seeped out of me in a puddle. “You know?”
“Of course I know. I’m not a bloody idiot. Look at ye! Look at me!”
Godfrey took that moment to sidle out of the room, shooing Fenella out of the hall and back outside before following her in his bare feet. The discomfort of witnessing this conversation was surely greater than the pain of frostbite.
“But I thought... You spoke of your father?—”
“Lending his seed didnae make that man a father.”
“But…”
“It was the least yer family could do. When Pa died, Ma and I had nothing. And yer family had—has—everything. Ye owed us.”
“Did he know?” I asked, my voice small.
“What?”
“Did Gabriel know?”
Something about my question softened her a little and her shoulders shrank. “I dinnae believe so. Ma never said, but she was proud—she wouldnae write him.”
Relief flooded me in a way I couldn’t explain. It wouldn’t have been at all out of character for Gabriel to have had a child and not have told us. But I couldn’t have thought he would lie to Cee about it—and knowing her, she had certainly asked outright.
“Why didn’t you write?”
“And say what? My mother was yer brother’s grass widow? I’m his natural daughter? I’ve no proof. How was I to know we’d look alike? And why did ye not say anything when ye realized?”
“Astonishingly, they do not discuss how to have those conversations at Eaton.”
“They teach ye how to complain aboot sheep?”
“There was some discussion on the management of livestock,” I replied with a shrug. “Miss McAllen… I?—”
“Sorcha.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I think ye can call me Sorcha now.”
“Sorcha, I—you have to know that he would have done the right thing. He wasn’t a good man—not really—but he would’ve at least seen you cared for.”
“Ye just said he wasnae a good man.”
“He had a code. It was one of his own making. But it was a code. Honestly, he’d be proud that you managed to take so much and keep the ruse up for so long.”
“Did he—do I—are there any others?” Her eyes were wide and her expression wavered between nervous and hopeful.
“Not that I’m aware of. But I didn’t know of you either. I have a sister about your age—Gabriel was much older than us—you remind me of her.”
“The brows?”
I nodded. “And everything else. She once invested in a whiskey distillery run by pirates.”
