Page 20 of Ghost of the Ton

“And a sore head,” said the second woman. “A right evil tongue on her, she had. Did ye hear how she spoke to Elspeth? She’d have henpecked Master Hamish into next year.”

“That’s ladies for ye. They’re all like that.”

“And what would ye know?”

“A damned sight more than ye!”

“Stop yer cursing, Ailsa! Do ye want a hiding?”

“I’m only saying what ye’re all thinking,” Ailsa said. “It’s a cursed shame for the master. Did ye see her?”

Mia shrank back, her stomach fluttering. There was no need to ask who the girl meant by her.

“Dinnae be unkind, Ailsa,” the young man said. “Not all lasses are as pretty as ye.”

“Her face!” Ailsa continued. “She was right beside me in the chapel when she took her veil off. I’ve never seen anything the like. Do ye think she’ll give us the plague? Or put a curse on us? They say they’re the marks of the devil. I think we should…”

As the girl rattled on, Mia lifted her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. Then another woman approached the little group of servants. Though she was tall, her shoulders were hunched. She clung to her cane, which tap-tapped across the stone floor. Her iron-gray hair was piled atop her head and dotted with tiny purple flowers, and she was dressed in a dark-purple gown trimmed with a plaid sash.

“Ailsa MacLennan,” she said, her tone sharp, “how many times have I told ye not to…”

The woman’s voice trailed off and her body stiffened as she looked up. Mia backed against the wall, but it made no difference. Clear green eyes widened as they focused on her, the same color and shape as the eyes that had regarded her with such contempt in the chapel.

The servants turned in unison, and a ripple of whispers threaded through the hall. The clatter of crockery ceased, and Mia’s cheeks flamed with humiliation as the company stared at her. Then, gritting her teeth, she took a step forward so that they might see her cursed face in all its devilry.

The woman in the purple gown resumed her attention on the servants.

“As I’ve told ye enough times, Ailsa,” she said, “ye’re not to gossip about yer betters. If ye’ve no kind word to say, then remain silent. Do ye understand?”

Aisla’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. “Aye, Lady MacLennan,” she mumbled. “Sorry, Lady MacLennan.”

“It’s not me ye should apologize to.”

Aisla glanced at Mia, then lowered her gaze to the floor. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Use the correct address, Ailsa,” the older woman said.

“I-I dinnae ken—”

The older woman let out a sharp sigh. “This woman is my son’s wife, as well ye know, given that ye were in the chapel earlier.”

“S-sorry, L-Lady MacLennan,” the girl said, flicking her gaze up, then stepping back as if she feared Mia might deliver a curse on her—or infect her with the pox.

“That’ll do, I suppose,” the older woman said. Then she turned and addressed the company. “And that goes for the rest of ye. It matters not what ye believe or wish. This young woman here”—she gestured to Mia—“is my son’s wife, the Lady of Glenblath. Ye shall show her the respect that title merits.”

A ripple of murmuring filled the room.

“Now, carry on with yer work. I want this room cleared before nightfall.”

The woman extended her hand to Mia and spoke more softly. “Will ye come with me?”

Mia shook her head. “I-I don’t think I ought to, Your Ladyship. Hamish…” She hesitated, her voice wavering as she recalled the disgust in his eyes. “I mean…y-your son doesn’t want me to—”

“Och, I’ll set him right, lass. If ye’re lawfully married, then this is yer home, is it not? Ye look in a right state, and well ye might, after such a journey and such a greeting. I’d say ye’re in need of some good, strong tea, am I right? And dinnae call me ‘Yer Ladyship.’ Eilidh will do, seeing as ye’re family. Or Ma, if ye prefer.”

The woman spoke the first kind words Mia had heard since she’d left Surrey twelve days ago, and, unlike every soul she’d encountered on her journey, Lady MacLennan didn’t look at Mia with disgust or fear. Such kindness, unlike the taunts she’d learned to withstand, had the power to breach Mia’s defenses.

Unwilling to trust herself to speak, she nodded.