Page 94 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She knew the feeling well, having experienced it herself in the weeks after Elliot’s birth.
How was she to know Macrath would be as captivated by their son as she? His affection only complicated the situation.
Macrath must understand Elliot was the eleventh Earl of Barrett. The world recognized him as such. His future was assured.
“How can I convince him if he won’t meet with me?” she asked Hannah now, just as she had every day. Her maid only shook her head, as always.
“Give my little boy a kiss for me,” she said.
Her maid smiled. “Yes, your ladyship.”
She watched Hannah leave the cottage, close the door behind her, then she moved to one of the cottage windows to track her progress.
Hannah sauntered with a bounce in her step, nodding at the flowers lining the road. Was she happy here?
Drumvagen was almost an enchanted place, silent but for the branches of the trees swaying in the gusty breeze. The whispering sounded like the trees were talking, discussing the day and the weather.
White filmy clouds skittered across the sky while the horizon was gray, the color of Drumvagen’s bricks. They’d had their share of storms lately. The morning after, however, the air sparkled like it was touched by magic.
Virginia knew she needed a bit of magic now, and prayers wouldn’t hurt, although she wasn’t certain petitioning the Almighty was a wise thing to do. After all, she’d sinned in many egregious ways.
If God couldn’t forgive her, how could she expect Macrath to do so? But God wasn’t an unyielding Scot like the owner of Drumvagen.
She left the cottage then, closing the door behind her. For a moment she simply stood on the path, hands clasped in front of her, looking down the road to Drumvagen. To her left, Drumvagen Wood hid the river from view. To her right was the ocean. Straight ahead was the house that held her son—and Macrath.
The day was cool, hinting at chilly, and she didn’t have a shawl. In London, planning this journey, they’d thought it would take a few days at the most. Neither she nor Hannah had expected to be in Scotland for more than a fortnight.
At least Hannah had made friends with the laundress at Drumvagen, which meant their clothing and bedding were clean.
Of all the decisions Enid had forced on her, hiring Hannah had been the best. What would she have done without the woman? Hannah was courageous and kind, and had become much more than a servant.
Virginia had dispensed with a hoop that morning and worn only one petticoat, which meant her skirts dragged on the ground. Resolutely, she grabbed her skirt with one hand and started walking.
She knew, well enough, that if she went up the broad staircase to the front doors of Drumvagen, Macrath would refuse her admittance. Even though Brianag had pronounced her free of disease, he’d been adamant about not letting her see Elliot.
Would her son even remember her?
She could petition Macrath once more. The result would be one more terse note:When you leave Drumvagen.
Did he think she would walk away from her child? If so, he was even more mistaken than she had been. Yes, she’d sinned. Yes, she’d taken advantage of him. Yes, what she’d done was wrong. Whatever he wanted to say about her was probably true.
She was not, however, going to desert Elliot.
Even if Macrath thought she was the most venal woman to have ever lived, she wasn’t going to abandon her son.
In America, she’d been left at Cliff House for years at a time, her father only visiting at Christmas and once in the summer when he brought friends to party. Even with the full staff and her governess, she was alone, a privileged, wealthy orphan.
Elliot would always know she loved him. There would never be a doubt in his mind about how she felt. He wasn’t an impediment. He wasn’t an inconvenience. He wasn’t someone about whom she thought periodically, then dismissed.
He was her darling little boy, and she wasn’t leaving Scotland without him.
She would have liked Macrath’s understanding, but that might be too much to expect. She was heartily sorry for what she had done. She regretted using him. She should have, somehow, communicated with him, even if he was on the other side of the world.
But she could never regret Elliot.
She wiped her palms against her dress, straightened her shoulders, and kept walking, intent on finding a way into Drumvagen. In the last two weeks, she’d devised a plan, one she hoped would work.
The sun glittered off the ocean, nearly blinding her. Several stubborn late summer flowers bobbed their heads at her. At another time she would have marveled at their bright yellow color or the sweet scent accompanying her walk. Now, however, she was intent on her plan.
