Page 22 of Ghost of the Ton

And for everyone else, except perhaps the woman sitting before her now and the elderly maidservant with the kind eyes and gentle voice.

Unable to withstand even the tiniest act of kindness, Mia let long-withheld tears fall. Her hostess leaned forward and took Mia’s hand.

“No, Lady MacLennan,” Mia said, “you can’t touch my hand, it’s—”

“I see naught wrong with yer hand,” the older woman said. “It bears the marks of yer survival. Ye should therefore be proud of them, aye, Elspeth?”

“Aye,” the maidservant said, as she handed a cup to her mistress.

“And I thought I told ye to call me Eilidh…?” Lady MacLennan raised her eyebrows as if expecting a response.

“Eilidh,” Mia said quietly.

“Excellent! Of course, as I said, ye can call me Ma, if ye prefer—unless yer own mother still lives?”

Mia shook her head. “My mother died when I was a baby, and my father…”

“I know about yer father, lass. My son told me the circumstances surrounding yer marriage.”

Oh, heavens! Mia looked away, her cheeks warming.

“Ye’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” Eilidh said, “and everything to be proud of. I know what ye did for my son. I’m the one who’s ashamed—that he’s not seen fit to express his gratitude.”

“He did, the day we married,” Mia replied. “He was very kind.”

“And was he as kind today?” Eilidh shook her head and sighed. “I trust ye’ll forgive him. He was a little surprised, that’s all, given that he must have thought he’d seen a ghost. And dinnae we all act a little oddly when distressed?”

“In my experience, it’s when distressed, or angry, that we’re less able to conceal our true feelings,” Mia said, then she regretted her words as Eilidh’s eyes clouded with sorrow. “Forgive me, I did not mean to impugn your son’s honor,” she continued. “What happened was not his fault.”

“Neither was it yers, my dear. We must all accept the hand Fate presents us with. My son is yer husband, and ye must think of him as such, even if he does not—” Eilidh broke off and eyed the maidservant. “Elspeth, once ye’ve served the tea, go and ask Mrs. Bron to have the main guest room ready for my daughter-in-law, would ye? Have Ailsa light a fire so it’s all warm for her.”

Elspeth bobbed a curtsy then exited the chamber. Eilidh lifted her cup to her lips, and her hand slipped, splashing tea onto her gown. She set the cup aside with a sigh.

“May I help, Lady MacLennan?” Mia said.

The woman arched an eyebrow.

“Eilidh?”

“No, my dear,” Eilidh said, resignation in her eyes. “There’s naught anyone can do. My hands…”

“Do they pain you?” Mia said. “Forgive me, I couldn’t help noticing…” She gestured to the cane propped up against the table.

“It’s old age, my dear,” Eilidh said, “and as I’ve come to accept, there’s only one real cure for old age. I’m not quite ready for that.”

Surely she didn’t mean death? Eilidh couldn’t be more than fifty at most, the lines around her eyes brought about by pain rather than age.

“Are you in constant pain?” Mia asked. “Or perhaps at particular times?”

“Particular times?”

“Such as on colder days, or when the air is damp.”

“Which describes almost every day here at Glenblath,” Eilidh said, with a gentle laugh. “But I do feel less pain in the summer, when the weather’s warm and I can venture a little further outside. I find the sunlight soothes my aching body, through lately…” She shook her head. “I ought not to speak of myself when ye must be suffering more pain than I.”

“I am in no pain,” Mia said. “I have a salve that I apply to the marks on my skin, and they’ve improved greatly over these past weeks. I made it myself—from chamomile and lavender. I flatter myself that I know a little about ailments and medicines.”

“Ye do?”