There were more of them, many of them with children, and Catriona could not bear to think of what would become of them. She sank onto a chair, her gut churning with disbelief, her heart racing with fear and her head beginning to pound.
“Well, then,” Catriona’s mother said.
“Airson gràdh Dhè, what are we to do with this news?” Aulay asked.
“What can we do that has no’ been tried before?” her father returned as he carefully resumed his seat. “The MacDonalds fought to have property seized by the Crown returned to their heirs and were no’ successful.”
“Aye, but the land they wanted returned was arable land,” Cailean reminded him. “It was more valuable than this,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the window.
“Aye, ’tis no’ worth a farthing for planting,” the laird agreed. “But this is a valuable glen for a Sassenach who means to run sheep.”
“Can they no’ put their sheep in the glen and leave the abbey?” Catriona asked.
Vivienne snorted. “They donna want the abbey or the women who live here.” She paused and glanced sheepishly at Rhona. “My apologies, Rhona.”
“’Tis no’ necessary,” Rhona said. “We know verra well who we are.”
“I’ve a suggestion,” Catriona’s mother said. “I think Catriona ought to deliver Zelda’s letter to my brother sooner rather than later.”
Her father looked at his wife curiously. “A letter? What letter?”
“Zelda wrote a letter to my brother that has not yet been delivered. You know Knox nearly as well as I, Arran. If there is anyone who might help us, it’s him. He knows everyone in places high and low, and it so happens he is summering in Scotland.”
All of Catriona’s brothers groaned.
The Earl of Norwood’s summering had been a sore spot for them all. He was one of the wealthy Englishmen who had benefited from the forfeitures and seizures of Scots’ land after the rebellion. He’d bought a small estate near Crieff from the Crown and had once crowed he’d purchased the property for as much as a horse.
“Zelda’s letter has naugh’ to do with this,” Catriona said as she looked around for her wineglass.
“Nevertheless, you promised Zelda to see it personally delivered, didn’t you, darling? That’s why you must go to him, and while you are there, you can appeal to him for his help with the abbey.”
“Go to him!” Catriona said, and having located her wineglass, she swiped it up. It was empty again? “I canna leave the abbey now, Mamma. Diah, we’ve only just lost Zelda!”
“They have Rhona,” her mother said, and took the empty wineglass from Catriona’s hand. “Rhona is quite capable of seeing after them.”
Catriona shook her head. “’Tis no’ the same—”
“Aye, Mamma is right,” Vivienne chimed in. “Auntie Zelda would have gone to Uncle Knox straightaway, if that’s what it took, Cat. You’re the abbey’s only hope, you are, and Uncle Knox is your only hope. And besides...” She paused and exchanged a look with her mother. “You could do with a bit of distance, could you no’?”
“Distance?” Catriona repeated, confused, as she tried to retrieve her wineglass from her mother. “From what, pray?”
“From Balhaire. From Kishorn,” her father said.
“Pardon?” The churning in her gut was taking on a new urgency. Something wasn’t right, but she was having a wee bit of trouble thinking clearly.
“You were a blessing to my cousin, God knows you were,” he said. “But you’ve tended her deathbed for months, and now it is time you saw to your own life.”
Catriona blinked. Her thoughts were suddenly very clear—they’d been discussing her. Her own family, talking in secret about her! She could see it in the faces of her parents, of her siblings, of her sisters-in-law. They surrounded her now, looking at her with varying expressions of determination and sympathy. “What’s this, then, you’ve discussed my life and determined a course, have you? How dare you speak ill of me behind my back.”
“Criosd, Cat, no one has spoken ill of you!” Rabbie said. “But for the last few months, you mope about and drink your fill of wine and brandy every night, aye?” Rabbie said. “You donna attempt to have any society about you.”
“What society?” she exclaimed loudly. “Where is it, Rabbie, do point me in that direction, aye? And in the course of it, perhaps you might point to something that I might do.”
He frowned. “Do you no’ see what we all see? You’re letting your life slip between your fingers, you are.”
She felt strangely exposed. Uncomfortable. Not angry, really, but...but she didn’t like this, not at all. What did they expect of her? None of them had ever been a spinster, with nothing to look forward to, without any hope of ever being a mother, or a wife. “What would you have me do? I’ve no occupation, no’ a bloody thing to do with my time but mope about and drink wine and brandy!” She felt on the verge of tears. She felt annoyed, she felt betrayed, she felt as if they’d all left her behind. Every one of them had families and loves and occupations, and purpose, for God’s sake, but she, by virtue of being born female and at a time when suitable men were scarce, could do nothing but float from one gathering to the next, looking for something to do with her time.
The only meaningful thing in her life at present was the abbey. Zelda had given a purpose to Catriona’s life, and they would take it away?
Blast it, but the tears began to slip from her eyes again.
“Diah, I didna say it to make you cry,” Rabbie said gruffly.
Her mother walked to Catriona’s seat and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Go to your uncle Knox, allow him to help you, and please, darling, take a bit of time to care for yourself.”
“I canna leave them,” she said tearfully, and took the handkerchief Daisy offered her and blew her nose.
“Aye, Miss Catriona, you can.”
Catriona stilled. The mutiny was complete, then. “You, too, Rhona?” she asked in a whimper.
Rhona colored slightly. “We’ll be quite all right for the summer, aye?” she said nervously. “Your lady mother, she...well, she’s right, she is. You deserve happiness, Miss Catriona. You’ve no’ had it at Kishorn.”
Catriona wanted to argue that she was happy, but it was a lie. She was desperately unhappy with her situation, and apparently, in spite of her best efforts to hide it, they all knew it.
“Rhona and I had opportunity to speak,” her mother said. “We agree everyone might look after themselves. But I very much miss my bright daughter.”
Her “bright daughter” had withered away a very long time ago, and in her place, a lonely Catriona stood.
“I’ll help at the abbey while you’re away,” Lottie said.
“So will I,” Bernadette offered.
“Me, too!” Daisy joined in. “All of us.”
“Aye, well, you’ll no’ know what to do, any of you,” Catriona said petulantly. “You’ll make a mess of things.”
“We verra well might,” Aulay agreed, and leaned down to kiss the top of Catriona’s head. “But you’ll put it all to rights when you return,