Chapter Thirteen
Jillian awakened to bright sunlight shining through the expensive glass window Ian had installed in her bedchamber. She had overslept again. With less than a month before the babe was due, Bridget had given strict orders to the household to allow Jillian this small luxury. “Ye will have yer hands full enough once the bairn arrives,” she told Jillian more than once.
Jillian suspected, however, that her presence at the morning fast-breaking was still not appreciated by either Duncan or Broc, and Bridget thought to prevent any unpleasantness that might have an effect on the babe. Superstitions prevailed in the Highlands, with most Highlanders firmly believing that if themáthairwere happy while carrying the child, the bairn would be less fussy. And who knew? Perhaps they did have a point.
Still. It seemed she was tarrying later and later in greeting the day, perhaps because Ian had been gone nearly three weeks and she missed him constantly. Only two missives had arrived, the last just several days ago saying he would be going to London to see Jamie before returning to Glenfinnan.
Jillian swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself into a sitting position, patting the great bulk of her stomach. “Soon,” she said as the babe gave her a good-morning kick. “Soon.”
As she entered the dining hall a short time later, Bridget and Shauna, Ian’s middle sister, were deep in conversation at the table. Helping herself to the still-warm pot of porridge on the sideboard, she joined them.
“You two look gloomy for such a nice day.”
“’Tis our uncle and his brother,” Shauna said.
“Nothing for ye to worry about,” Bridget interjected.
Jillian looked from one sister to the other. “Are they upset with me? Taking me to task for being a slovenly sleep-in?”
“Nae,” Bridget answered. “’Tis just spoutin’ off they are doing.”
“But they are not happy with me.”
“’Tis nae ye in particular,” Shauna replied. “They just hate the English in general.”
“Culloden was a long time ago.” Jillian sighed. “Scotland is part of the English Crown. Can they truly not accept that?”
“Och, they can. They like to blether on about it though,” Shauna said, “but this has to do with the burnings last year.”
Jillian frowned. “Burnings?”
“Nothing for ye to fret about,” Bridget said firmly.
“I want to know. I promise not to let it upset me.”
Shauna looked at Bridget. “Jillian is Ian’s wife. She has a right to know.”
Bridget grimaced. “I suppose ye are right.”
“Ye have heard of the Scottish Clearances?” Shauna asked.
“Yes, to some extent. The lands were cleared for sheep-grazing and people moved to the coast to work in the kelp industry.”
Shauna gave her a skeptical look. “That is the English version?”
“Is that not what happened?”
“Aye, it did. Yer version leaves out the fact most crofters were burned out of their homes andforcedto leave by the lairds themselves.”
Jillian felt her eyes widen in shock. “How terrible. Why would their own clansmen do that?”
“They had little choice. After the defeat at Culloden, the English imposed high rents. To keep their lands, the lairds had to raise the money. Sheep were the answer, but they need grass and crofters used the ground for planting. Land means everything to a Highlander.”
Jillian knew that. Ian had accepted the English title of earl for that very reason—to be able to support and hold his Scottish land near Loch Shiel. “But did this not happen a long time ago?”
“The first stage did,” Shauna answered, “but the second stage took place just last year.”
“Last year?”
