Page 72 of Highland Sword
“And no talent,” she said aloud.
“Who has no talent?” Maisie asked.
Morrigan turned around and faced her friends. The artist had none of those things either. But the woman had her art. It was her only real means of survival. “I have no talent.”
“That’s not true. You’re talented in so many ways.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” she told Maisie. “Isabella is a fine physician. You, an accomplished writer. Fiona, you’re a revolutionary.”
“That’s not a talent,” Fiona said with a laugh. “It constitutes a lifetime of trouble.”
They liked to tease, make less of what they did. But Morrigan knew the truth. She valued what they’d done and continued to do.
“You’ve accomplished things. You and Maisie established the Female Reform Society in Edinburgh. You have motivated women to break their chains and speak up. For representation. For just laws.” Morrigan looked from one to the other. “But what have I done that has been worthwhile? And what can I do in the future that meansanything?”
“I don’t know a tougher woman than you.”
“Or any woman braver,” Maisie agreed with her friend.
“And what am I going to do with that? Disguise myself and join an army? Become a rebel leader and haunt these hills?”
She looked over her shoulder at the distant mountain peaks. Perhaps there had been a day not so long ago that such a life attracted her. But no longer. She’d always wished to be independent and proficient. She’d strived to protect herself so that no one would ever be able to abuse her again.
“My training with those weapons fulfills a need in me, like eating and drinking. It’s a regimen. I don’t consider it a talent. It certainly provides me with no way of supporting myself or contributing to society.”
“For years, you worked at your father’s side. Isabella swears that no medical student who ever assisted her matched your abilities,” Maisie said. “Have you consideredbecoming more proficient in the area of medicine? You could study under her. She’d love to have you beside her.”
“Isabella is university-trained. And she’s brilliant. Beyond her academic training, she is also a born healer. And she has a way about her that makes people accept her. She doesn’t let narrow-minded prejudices and fears get in the way of the care she provides for her patients. And she’d never turn her back on anyone who needed help.” Morrigan thought of how Isabella continued to care for Wemys after learning the truth about him, regardless of how much she abhorred him. “She and my father both could separate their feelings and their duty. I don’t have that ability.”
Fiona motioned to the stack of books on the bedside table. “You’re a reader.”
“You could write,” Maisie suggested.
“You have a wicked sense of humor,” Fiona added.
“That’s true,” Maisie agreed. “Your tongue is as sharp as the dagger you carry in your boot. And I know. You’ve poked me with it enough times over the years.”
“There you have it. You could write satire,” Fiona concluded. “Prose versions of the kind of work Madame Laborde produces.”
“I can’t be someone else. I can only be myself. Even if I don’t know exactly who that is. Even though I have no idea right now what the future holds or where I want to be a year from now, or ten years.”
Morrigan turned to the window and pushed open the panels. A blast of cold air hit her in the face—exactly what she needed to stop the tears suddenly welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t understand what made her bring up such a topic. In her mind, the fog swirling around the future was getting thicker. She doubted that anything said here would help her see what direction she was intended to go.
Maisie approached her from behind and wrapped her arms around her. Morrigan leaned her head back against the woman who had become a sister.
“I could suggest that this upheaval within you is due to the possibility that you’re in love, but I fear you might throw me out this window.”
“I thinkthatis a suggestion right there.”
“Am I wrong?”
Maybe shewasin love, she thought. But that wasn’t the reason for her unhappiness.
“Do you remember this past August? How you fussed and worried and had to talk to Niall before you two were married?”
Maisie sighed. “That was a difficult moment for me.”
“I know it was. You knew who you were, and you wanted to make certain that he understood your dreams. That he respected your chosen path.”
