Page 89 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“Can you find accommodation for my coachman?” He’d been her loyal protector against Paul, and she wouldn’t have him sleep on the bare ground.
The young man nodded at her. “I’ll see he gets quarters.”
In a matter of moments she was alone in the cottage.
Two cots rested in the corner with bedding atop them. To Macrath’s credit, the mattresses appeared plump. She should organize the cottage so it was habitable. She should fix their beds, if nothing else. Even the idea exhausted her.
She lay her head down on her folded arms, closed her eyes and would have fallen asleep had not the door of the cottage flown open at that moment.
“I’ve come to see to you,” Brianag said, her voice as loud as thunder.
Macrath’s housekeeper hadn’t made a secret of her dislike when Virginia had visited Drumvagen the first time. She could only imagine what Brianag had to say now.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need your help.”
“I’m the wise woman of Kinloch Village and Drumvagen,” Brianag said. “I’ll see to you.”
“You’re a witch?” she asked faintly.
“I’m not a witch,” the woman said, putting a covered basket on the table and coming around to Virginia’s side. “I’m a good Presbyterian.”
She leaned closer, peering into Virginia’s eyes.
“Have the scabs fallen off?” she asked. When she didn’t answer, Brianag folded her arms across her ample chest. “Do I have to tell the Sinclair you wouldn’t let me see to you?”
She didn’t want to subject herself to an inspection, but it might be the only way Macrath would allow her to see Elliot. For that reason, she nodded.
“Most of them,” she said. “Except for two on my arm.”
“Show me,” the woman demanded.
She hesitated, then finally unbuttoned her cuff, rolling up her sleeve to show her left arm.
“I would not have brought smallpox to Drumvagen,” she said.
“We don’t know for sure, now do we?” Brianag said, holding Virginia’s arm and touching each scab. Her hands, while large and swollen with arthritis, were gentle. “I’m thinking you’re in such a hurry to find your son you didn’t think about the rest of the world.”
Since that comment was too close to the truth, she remained silent.
“My maid told me I’m no longer contagious,” she finally said.
“Oh, your maid, is it? Perhaps I should have her look at some of the injuries in the village. Old Man MacPherson is having some problems remembering his kin. Perhaps she can help with him as well.”
“There’s no reason to be disagreeable,” Virginia said.
The woman looked startled. A moment later her face melted into a smile. She pulled up a chair and sat so close their knees met.
“Any fever?”
Virginia shook her head. “Not for a few days.”
“Are you fatigued?”
“Yes,” she said, “I imagine it’s to be expected.”
“You’re as weak as a newborn lamb. Good thing we’ve no wolves.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept mute.
