Page 34 of Highland Jewel
Isabella was clearly relieved to see her. “Put that all here by me. In a moment, you’ll need to stand by his head and hold tight to his shoulders while I stitch the wound. But I’m not ready yet.”
Maisie wasn’t squeamish, but the weaver had already lost a great deal of blood. She followed her sister’s directions, opening the case and laying out the surgical instruments where she was told. She tried not to stare at the nasty, jagged stab in the man’s abdomen as Isabella cleaned the wound.
The young man was moaning weakly. His breaths were quick and erratic. When Isabella used her scalpel,Maisie pressed on his shoulders to keep him in one place.
He flinched and cried out suddenly. “My mother… tell my mother… I’m sorry. Tell her. She told me not to go tonight.”
“You can tell her yourself,” Isabella said in a soothing voice. “You’ll not be dying tonight.”
Maisie looked at her sister. She was bent over the wound, all concentration.
“I need the catgut sutures. It should be in a packet in the kit.”
Maisie reached for the case and found what Isabella was looking for. As she handed it to her, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met. The expression of approval in her sister’s eyes was gratifying.
“They tried to kill us,” he moaned.
“Indeed. They’re killers. That’s what they do,” Isabella said softly. “So think about minding your mother the next time. Think about the anguish she’ll feel if you are murdered. How brokenhearted she’ll be if you never come back.”
Maisie looked at her sister again. She was preparing to stitch the wound, but her drawn expression showed how sad she felt. Isabella—the compassionate doctor, the angel of mercy. She never joined in with her husband’s outcry at the injustices being perpetrated by the government. How would she feel when she learned that Maisie was fighting for the same causes?
Isabella leaned closer and began to sew the wound shut. “No mother, no sister, no daughter wants their loved one returned to them like this.”
Maisie thought of the day of the protests in the Grassmarket. She recalled so vividly the face of the dragoon surging toward her with murder in his eyes. An invisible hand fisted around her heart as she thought of how Isabella would have felt if her body had been carried here to this surgery. How would this kindhearted woman feel if Niall hadn’t intervened when she’d been accosted outside the print shop? It was truly a miracle she hadn’t been arrested that day, and his warnings of how women were treated in their custody were still fresh in her mind.
The same thing that happened to this lad and his fellows could happen to her and Fiona and the other women after one of their meetings. But was she willing to stop? Was she willing to remain at home and give up? Was she willing to allow the repression and the intimidation of the government to silence her? Could she allow the bullies of this world to win?
“No.”
Isabella glanced up at her. “No? What are you sayingnoto?”
Maisie didn’t realize she’d spoken the word aloud. “Nothing. I was encouraging your patient not to move.”
Isabella could never know. And once Maisie married, her sister wouldn’t worry as much, anyway.
The challenge now lay in finding an opportunity to tell her about Niall’s proposal.
Archibald looked into the room, addressing his wife. “When you’re done here, I need you. One of these men has a compound fracture that might require amputation.”
But not tonight, Maisie thought.
CHAPTER12
After paying the driver on South Bridge, Niall walked up High Street. At least, he thought he walked. He wasn’t paying much attention. He might have been floating a foot or two above the pavement.
She loved him. He was going to be married. Maisie was to be his wife. Accepting the position with Watt would secure their future. His life was coming together in ways that he’d never imagined. He ran a hand over his face to make sure that he wasn’t imagining all of this.
Maisie’s beautiful face was everywhere he looked. She loved him, he thought again. And he was in love. Niall knew it when he saw her standing on the platform the day of the protest in the Grassmarket. She’d been beautiful, radiant, brave. Wielding the flag like a lance, she’d fended off the dragoon like a warrior queen. Even then, he’d already fallen for her. He loved every minute they were together. And when they were apart, impatience dogged every waking moment until he saw her again.
It was getting late, but some young lads came running down the street. He watched as they stopped in frontof an empty shop long enough to tear off pieces of old flyers pasted to a wall. With strips of paper streaming behind them, they raced down High Street.
Niall recalled the day he thought she was about to get arrested. Blind fury had taken hold of him. He would have fought an entire regiment single-handedly at that moment. He was now as worried about Maisie as he was about his sister.
Married. He was to be married. Fiona would be thrilled. They were two of a kind, Maisie and Fiona. As close as sisters. Niall made no mention of it in the cab, but with this new position, he’d convince Fiona that they should all move north. Their family had come from the western Highlands, but he could purchase an estate in the east, outside of Aberdeen or Inverness.
Unrest was everywhere, but he was done fighting. He wanted to settle down and have his wife and sister near him. No more protests. No living under the threat of violence. No breaking the law and fearing the hand of the authorities coming down on them. He recognized that battles needed to be fought. But he didn’t want to have Maisie or Fiona leading the charge.
These were arguments that they couldn’t have when they were in Edinburgh. But once far away from it, he hoped wisdom would descend on both of these women.
