The Lass Wore Black (19 page)

“To answer your question, I was so shocked when I first saw her that I was afraid of crying out. She saw my reaction anyway. I told her, then, and again in Edinburgh, that she was fortunate to be alive. I doubt she feels the same.”

He looked away, toward the long line of windows framed by the bright yellow curtains. The yellow of the curtains against the gray day made Jean think about her own determined optimism against the despair that Catriona must be feeling.

“She is a spoiled and selfish creature,” Aunt Mary said in the silence. “But she is a darling girl, for all of that. Catriona is a contradiction, and she always has been. She’s lazy when it suits her and industrious when it pleases her. She can be charming or she can be cutting. She blows hot and cold, Dr. Thorburn, but rarely does she blow warm.”

The sound of his laughter surprised Jean, but she couldn’t help but smile in response to it.

“I have found her to be exactly that, Mrs. MacDonald. She is passionate about what she likes and what she dislikes, and I suspect she would fight to the death for either.”

“If only she felt the same way about her own survival, Dr. Thorburn,” Jean said. “If she did, I would be more positive about her future.”

“What future do you want for her?” he asked.

She moved to get comfortable, giving his question some thought.

“To know that people love her. That we love her no matter what. Yes, she sometimes behaves abominably when she feels cornered, but she’s still my sister. I love her. Nothing she does will ever change that.”

“What makes her feel cornered?” he asked.

“Ridicule,” she said, startled that the answer came so quickly. “She doesn’t like to be called names.”

He nodded, and she had the oddest feeling that he was mentally noting all her comments. Would he put them to paper later?

“Do you think Catriona was affected by your parents’ death?”

He did ask the most amazing questions.

A moment passed before Jean asked, “You know the story, then?”

He nodded but didn’t comment further.

“At the time, we were both so desperate to survive that I didn’t notice,” she said. “It was only later that I realized something had broken inside Catriona. Perhaps it was hope, or the belief that things would always turn out right. Whatever it was, yes, I think our parents’ death affected her greatly.”

When he didn’t speak, she continued. “We were labeled ‘the Murderer’s Girls,’ and singled out on the street. Someone had made up a song about what our father had done, and children lost no opportunity to repeat it.” In the silence, she repeated the words, never having been able to forget them.

“Old Doc Cameron went upstairs

When everyone was unawares

He gave poison to his wife

And killed the love of his life.

He was hanged for his crime

Calling her name the whole time.

Yet now they’re parted, I’ve heard tell

She’s in Heaven and he’s in Hell.”

Aunt Mary leaned over and patted her clasped hands in a wordless gesture of compassion.

Her tears were for her parents and perhaps her younger self and Catriona. “I’m sorry, Countess.”

She nodded.

“So am I,” Morgan said, striding into the room. “This meeting is done, I’m afraid, Doctor. My wife is tired.”

Morgan wanted her to rest all the time, but at this moment she welcomed him with gratitude and a profound sense of relief.

A
s Mary MacDonald stood, Mark did as well. He understood, immediately, that the earl was protective of his wife. The man stood in front of Jean, a hand outstretched toward her. Jean clutched a throw that poorly concealed her condition, a look of embarrassment on her face.

“You and I will speak in my library,” the earl said. Not a request as much as a command, and one he was tempted to refuse. However, he was the man’s guest and had come to Ballindair for the express purpose of learning more about Catriona.

Or perhaps he was here to expunge his guilt.

As Mark followed the earl down the corridor, it occurred to him that Catriona’s rooms in Edinburgh were smaller than the suite he’d been given at Ballindair, yet he’d never felt that sense of confinement there. Was it because he was so fixated on her, rather than the size of the room? That was something he would need to explore later.

The earl entered a large, two-story library, marched to a massive carved desk, and turned to face him.

Morgan MacCraig was every inch a peer at the moment, as stuffy, Mark thought, as his father, and as arrogant. But Morgan didn’t know that he wasn’t intimidated by rank. When he faced death each day, what was a title?

“Why are you here, Dr. Thorburn? My wife is foolishly protective of Catriona. What has her sister done now?”

The Countess of Denbleigh wasn’t the only one protective of Catriona, if the surge of irritation he felt was to be believed. He pushed past it, wondered if he should tell the earl the truth, and settled for half measures.

“It’s not what she’s done,” he said, “but what I’ve done.” He told the earl of his pretense, carefully omitting the night he and Catriona had spent together. “I didn’t know what else to do, since your aunt was adamant something was wrong with her.”

Morgan went and sat behind his desk, motioning for him to take an adjoining chair. “What did you find?”

“A woman desperately in need of purpose,” he said. “Someone who’d decided to die, possibly. Or was simply wasting away.”

To his credit, the earl looked disturbed. “After the accident, I never saw her,” he said. “Catriona wouldn’t allow it. My wife was shattered at her appearance and wouldn’t stop crying for days.” The earl glanced at him. “I won’t have her upset.”

“She’s near her time.”

“That’s not why. I don’t want her upset under any conditions or circumstances.” Morgan concentrated on the tooled leather blotter before him, touching the small brass nails with a fingertip. “I can’t abide seeing her weep.”

He nodded, understanding.

“She was a beautiful girl. Catriona. She was, possibly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Beauty, however, is not a mark of character, and Catriona’s character was woefully lacking.”

When Mark didn’t comment, the earl smiled. “You’ve seen a different side of her, perhaps.”

“I’ve seen a desperately unhappy woman,” he said. “Angry at the world.”

“She would be, though, wouldn’t she? She was damn lucky to have survived the accident.”

“How did it happen?”

The earl shot him a quick look. “I take it Catriona doesn’t speak of it.”

“I doubt she would, but I haven’t asked.”

“There’s a mystery there, but I’ve never gotten to the bottom of it. I expect, in your ruse, that you’d be better suited.”

He frowned, not understanding.

“The carriage driver in Edinburgh is the same one from London,” the earl said.

“I didn’t know. I’ll make a point of speaking to him.” He would, as soon as he returned to Edinburgh.

“I’ve never seen a man so distraught over the death of a horse. Had to put the horse down himself. Evidently, the animal was badly injured when the carriage turned over. A wretched accident, all in all. A girl died. But according to my wife, Catriona doesn’t feel the least grateful for having survived.”

“People don’t, I’ve noticed,” he said. “Not when they’re in the throes of a crisis. They simply want to survive it. Later, they do, however. They begin to realize they’re alive and look at their lives in a different way. I don’t think your sister-in-law has reached that point.”

“I wonder if she ever will. Catriona does not see the world like the rest of us. She has a way of getting exactly what she wants with the least amount of effort.”

He couldn’t help but think of Catriona paying him, offering the coins with an offhanded manner that had, frankly, shocked him.

“I wish you success with Catriona as a patient. Now that her beauty is gone, I wonder if there will be anything to her.” He smiled. “My wife is certain of her own plainness,” the earl said. “But I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”

He stood, but before leaving the room, he turned to his host.

“You have a midwife for your wife’s lying-in?”

The earl shook his head. “A physician from Inverness. I have faith in the man.”

“I wasn’t applying for the position,” he said with a smile. “I have enough patients of my own. But I would recommend one thing. Have him use chloroform for the worst of it. It will spare your wife the greatest pain. I’ve used it with my patients, and women seem to endure childbirth easier.”

The earl appeared to sag. He didn’t say anything for a moment, being fixated on the surface of his desk. His fingers danced a pattern from one curlicue on the blotter to the next.

He looked up, the expression in his eyes one of misery. “Thank you, I will. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to her,” he said.

“Everything should go well. She’s healthy, and that’s what matters. I don’t doubt you’ve been attentive.”

The earl nodded. “Take care of Catriona, though, will you? I don’t want Jean worried about her sister.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” he said, feeling like a hypocrite as he said those words.

Chapter 17

“Y
ou give him a great deal of latitude, Aunt,” Catriona said.

Mark had been gone four days. Four days in which she’d wondered about his errand. Granted, she’d not been bedeviled once, but she was vastly annoyed, solely on Aunt Dina’s behalf.

“Any other employer would have fired him for all his absences.”

Aunt Dina only smiled.

She was not disappointed. She was only feeling overwhelmed by the seamstress and her assistant. Three extra people were in her suite when she was used to being alone.

Why was she eager to see Mark? He’d been a superlative lover, but even that judgment was suspect. She’d gone nearly a year without being intimate with a man. Perhaps the dearth of experience made her see him in a better light.

He mustn’t presume upon the circumstances. If he was remotely disrespectful, she’d banish him from her room. Besides, he needed to mollify her with a decent explanation. Did he possibly think she’d missed him?

As far as that night, that had simply been expediency on both their parts. She’d been lonely, and he was available. He mustn’t think she’d ever repeat the experience.

But instead of being able to convey all of that to the man, she was greeted every morning with the news that he hadn’t yet returned. This sensation she was feeling was merely elation that she wouldn’t have to tolerate him any longer.

It was not disappointment.

It was not sadness.

She did not long for him. How utterly foolish to think
that
was the case.

“Will you lift your right arm, miss?” the seamstress asked.

She complied. Why had she agreed to change her wardrobe from black to dark blue? After all, the colors were similar. But Aunt Dina was adamant, and once the woman had decided upon a course of action, it was nearly impossible to change her mind.

As impossible as it had been to get her to reveal what errand had taken Mark away from the household.

“I do hope there wasn’t a death in his family,” she’d said this morning.

Aunt Dina only shook her head.

“He isn’t ill, is he?” she asked, with what she hoped was a disinterested air.

Again Aunt Dina shook her head.

“How did you come to hire him?”

She didn’t expect an answer, but Aunt Dina said, “I’ve known the man for some time. He’s always impressed me a great deal. When the opportunity arose, of course I hired him.”

That comment fostered more questions than it answered.

“I don’t see what you admire in him,” Catriona said airily. “He’s insulting.”

“Do you think so? Strange, but I’ve never thought that of him.”

“How long will he be gone?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Dina said. “It all depends on the weather, I believe. If the roads are good, he’ll make better time.”

She fisted her right hand. “He’s traveling, then?” In this weather? With winter storms buffeting Edinburgh? “Is he traveling far?”

Aunt Dina didn’t answer.

The seamstress left the corner with her assistant, interrupting her thoughts. Both women halted in front of where she stood on a small riser. She couldn’t stand in this position much longer. Her left knee was beginning to trouble her, and she wasn’t going to make excuses or ask for special treatment. After all, she had her pride.

Had he known that he was going away for a time? Why hadn’t he told her?

She wanted to stomp her feet on the riser, scream at all of them to leave the room, or simply vent her annoyance at Mark to anyone who would listen.