All five of them quickly clambered into the same large carriage that had delivered Hope and her sisters to Lismore the day before. Thankfully it was large enough to fit all five of them comfortably, since the village of Glencoe was over an hour away.
“Why is town so far?” Grace asked, surprised when Rose mentioned the time that it would take to get there.
“Well, there are a few establishments between here and Glencoe Village. Some homes as well.” Rose slipped on a pair of lace gloves as she spoke. “The Cock and Sparrow Inn is just about halfway, but I don't recommend any of you ladies to go there.”
“Why not?” Hope asked.
“The owner isn't fond of the English. To be honest, he isn't fond of anyone. I wouldn't go there myself unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“But why is the village so far?” Faith asked, peering out the carriage window as they rode. “I should think town would only be a few miles away. Something walkable.”
“I believe the MacKinnons who built Lismore Hall preferred solitude,” Belle said, clutching the cane planted beforeher. “Besides, the landscape of the mountains provides the castle with a good deal of protection.”
“The location was chosen so other clans couldn't attack?” Grace asked.
“Precisely,” Rose said.
Hope eyed her aunt curiously.
“May I ask you a question, Aunt Belle?”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Why did you take that bet, with Mr. MacKinnon’s father? Surely you knew it was made by a desperate man. It wasn't right.”
Belle shrugged; her clear eyes settled on a focal point.
“It's how kingdoms rise and fall, my dear. Desperate acts by desperate men have always molded the world we live in. I was simply a player. James MacKinnon didn't have to make that bet, but he did.”
“But he couldn't have been in the right state of mind,” Hope argued. “He had to be drunk or foolish, or—”
“My dear, you're putting too much blame at my feet. He was a grown man, responsible for his own decisions. It was not my fault that he gambled away his home. Why blame me for that man's mistake?”
Hope’s mouth pulled sideways in contemplation as she digested her words. It was true. Graham’s father had made his choices, and Belle was not to blame for them—even if allowing a man to gamble away his family home wasn't the Good Samaritan thing to do.
“I think she was were very clever to win Lismore Hall,” Faith said, her chin high. “Men have always been incompetent creatures. Why should Belle carry the burden for a fool?”
“But Mr. MacKinnon didn't deserve to have his birthright taken from him,” Hope said.
“No, but then his father should have had the foresight to take care of his offspring.”
“That's true,” Grace said. “If James MacKinnon cared about his family, he would have never put the hall up as collateral.”
“That's unfair to assume he didn't care,” Hope said, unsure why she was defending a dead man. “We cannot know what he was thinking. Perhaps he was ill or might have even been impaired in some way. Isn't it, well, unneighborly to take advantage of those less fortunate? It isn't honorable.”
A shuttered expression passed over Belle's stony face. The fine lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes deepened and she appeared much older than she ever had.
“My dear, I'm not the person to discuss honor and virtue. I've done things in my lifetime that would make most men blush. Now, I am certain your parents and grandmother raised each one of you to be good, kindhearted ladies, and I applaud that. Truly I do. But I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be a good lady. I've witnessed a humanity that would congratulate a monster and condemn a saint, all because society called for it. The hypocrisy was not for me, and so I chose to live outside of the strictures of society, on my own terms. However, I won't be made to into a villain because of my past. I am who I am, and I hold no guilt because of it. Do I make myself clear?”
Hope’s wide eyes were locked on the old woman’s face. She nodded slowly. The way Belle saw things was completely foreign to Hope. Yet, even as she tried to rationalize it with her strict upbringing, Hope couldn't help but find truth in her aunt's words.
After a moment of silence, Faith leaned forward.
“Aunt Belle, how come grandmother never told us about your past?”
“I supposed she was embarrassed.” Belle shrugged, her hands tightening around the top of her walking stick. “And I know your parents weren't too fond of me, and even less when poor Willie passed away.”
“What was he like?” Faith asked, inching closer to Belle. “The king, I mean.”
