Page 126 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
How could she be faced with this choice? Why hadn’t she thought about this moment, this predicament?
If Cliff House hadn’t been sold after her father’s death, she would have retreated there, taking Elliot with her. For a few years she would have hidden from the world, or at least from society.
She couldn’t remain at Drumvagen. Worse, Macrath hadn’t asked her to stay. As far as he was concerned, she could leave today as long as she didn’t take Elliot.
A soft knock on the door blessedly interrupted her thoughts. She called out, and Hannah entered, a silver salver in her hand.
“Your ladyship,” she said, “they’ve returned from Kinloch with the post. There’s a letter for you.”
Hannah presented the salver, bobbing a curtsy as if to remind her she was the Countess of Barrett. She felt less like a countess and more of a sham, a fraud, a cheat, and a liar.
The black-bordered letter rested on the tray, daring her to pick it up and open it.
What would Hannah say if she told her to take it away and destroy it? She didn’t want to open it. She recognized Ellice’s handwriting, but rather than anticipation she only felt a cold prickle of dread.
How could she possibly cope with any more bad news?
Slowly, she reached out her hand and picked up the letter, thanking Hannah. The other woman glanced at her curiously but didn’t say anything as she turned and left the room.
For a minute, maybe two, she stared at the front of the envelope before opening the letter and smoothing her fingers over the paper.
Dearest Sister,
I trust this letter will find you in good health and recovering. We have heard so little from you of late it is with misgiving I write you now.
Will you be returning to London soon? Or has your health worsened? Is my dearest nephew well?
Could you write and let me know when you’ll return? I know our mother’s cares would be eased by your presence. She has taken to sitting in the garden on a fine day, staring off into the distance. She will not hear talk of Eudora, not even to gently recall her. I worry about her so, and have no one to talk to of my concerns.
Lawrence’s cousin has visited, but Mother will not see him. She will not see anyone, I fear.
The staff seemed subdued by our loss. I have tried to remember all Mother’s lessons on economy, but she has not looked at the household accounts for weeks now. Without Albert here, I feel myself inadequate to the task. I would appeal for help from Paul, but he left us unexpectedly recently, having come into a fortune. Hosking is much missed here, as is Hannah.
Please, dearest Virginia, come home. I do so need someone to talk to, and I miss you and dear Elliot.
Your sister,
Ellice
Tears filmed Virginia’s vision. Lifting her head, she defied them to fall.
She hadn’t mourned Eudora properly. She’d never once thought of Ellice’s plight, or her mother-in-law’s deep grief. Instead, she’d been too immersed in her own misery to see the needs of anyone else.
She felt so sorry for her sister-in-law. Enid was evidently still grieving for Eudora, to the extent of forgetting about her other child.
Ellice’s comments about Jeremy, Lawrence’s cousin, disturbed her as well. What could he want? What could he suspect, for that matter?
She had to return to London. Somehow she had to make this right.
What could she possibly say to Macrath?
“I love you. I love you and I’m going to hurt you. More than I hurt you before. I’m going to turn my back on Drumvagen and you, and I won’t be back again. I beg you not to acknowledge Elliot as your heir. I beg you to let this ruse go on. Find someone else to love. Find the woman who will help you reach your dreams, Macrath. Be happy, my darling.”
No, she couldn’t imagine giving him that speech or leaving Elliot at Drumvagen. She wanted Macrath to love her. She wanted to remain here with him. She wanted Elliot to laugh, run, and explore the woods. She wanted him to point out a buzzard to Macrath and demand an answer for what it was. Why was the sky blue? Why was the grass the same shade as the trees in the forest?
She wanted to laugh with Macrath, discuss politics, read broadsides from Edinburgh, and argue over whatever came to mind. She wanted to share his big, wide bed, feel his arms around her at night, and know, somehow, that around him she was a different woman. One who was courageous, daring, and never afraid.
Was it too terrible to want to live her life with him?
