Page 80 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“Aye?” she asked in a high-pitched, querulous voice.
“Mrs. Kincaid?”
She put a hand to her ear, and he raised his voice and repeated himself.
“Aye, and who are ye?” She squinted at both of them with interest but not suspicion.
“I’m Owen Duff and this is my betrothed, Maggie.”
He left off his fancy title, Maggie saw, and her surname, as well.
“Ye’re Himself!” Mrs. Kincaid said in obvious delight. “Come in, come in!”
Owen nodded to Fergus, who waited outside with the horses, then had to duck to enter the single room with its earthen floor. Mrs. Kincaid had them sit down at her wooden table side by side on a bench, and after putting two tankards of ale before them, she took the chair.
“O’ course new chiefs like to know their clan,” Mrs. Kincaid said, “but to think ye’re paying a call on me!”
They each took a sip of ale to be polite.
Owen smiled. “We do have business to discuss, Mrs. Kincaid. I understand you’re related to Gregor and Kathleen Duff?”
“Two of my sister’s children. They live in the colonies.”
Maggie’s eyes widened when Owen glanced at her before speaking.
“They’re recently returned and have taken up residence at Castle Kinlochard. Kathleen is a maid, and Gregor works in the smithy.”
“Ah, his misfortunes followed him, I see.”
“Misfortunes?”
Her eyes were still sharp beneath heavily wrinkled eyelids. “So ye don’t know much about them?”
“Very little, which is why I’m curious.” “Have they done ye wrong?”
“I don’t believe so, but I know little of them and wish to be prepared.”
“And ye’re not saying why the chief himself would be visitin’ an old lady.”
Maggie hid a smile, and Owen said nothing.
Mrs. Kincaid sighed. “Weel, I believe in supporting Clan Duff. All I have is the letters I received from the family over the years. Do give them back to me when ye’re done.”
“Of course I will,” Owen said.
After accepting the care of a packet of old yellowed letters tied with string, Owen paused when Mrs. Kincaid laid a hand on his arm.
“Remember that the family suffered for their decision to leave us,” the old woman said quietly. “I know not what has happened to them that brings ye here, but they’re my sister’s children, and I need ye to try to understand them.” She looked at Maggie, as if she needed a woman’s confirmation.
“We will, ma’am, and thank ye,” Maggie said. After the door shut behind them, she whispered to Owen, “Those letters sound intriguing.”
“They do, but they must await my business in the village.”
Maggie accompanied Owen for an hour spent in Ledard, introducing himself to those who didn’t know him and hearing their concerns. Maggie held back, not wanting her McCallum name to be debated. After they left, they traveled a mile or so to reach a meadow beside a stream, some distance from the village, for their midday meal. Maggie offered a wrapped package of beef and cheese to Fergus and the other guard, who went off a distance to see to the horses.
“Ye’ve got wise men there,” Maggie said, as she removed more packages from her saddlebag.
He only nodded, showing little interest in the food but much interest in carefully untying the letters so as not to damage them. There were dates on each, so he read them aloud in order. Many were concerning an important event or tragedy, Mrs. Kincaid’s sister’s death first, the deaths of the other children, the smithy that their father built which struggled along, then his death and Gregor taking over.
