Robbie and Payden brought in the tea cart and sat side by side on the floor while Kirsty passed the tea and the brandy to Mrs. McClintok and James. Elspeth looked expectantly at Muireall.
She took her time looking each of her siblings in the eye. She was grim-faced but determined, it seemed to Elspeth.
“What I am about to tell you must never be told outside our family. The reason is that our brother’s life will be in considerable danger, and we will never risk him.”
“James can take care of himself,” Payden said. “How ridiculous of you to think he is some poor defenseless sap.”
Elspeth had seen Payden get under Muireall’s skin on many occasions. He was the age where he was no longer a boy and yet not quite a man, and he had the sharp mind and tongue to be a nuisance—a loved nuisance, but trying all the same. But Muireall did not look disturbed at all. She looked at him with love and tenderness.
“But it is not James who we are concerned with. It is you, Payden.”
He shrugged. “Why would you be concerned with me? Other than when I don’t do my studies to your satisfaction. I do my chores, I—”
James knelt in front of him. “You are the only son. You are the heir.”
“That can’t be,” Payden said. “You’re my older brother!”
“I’m a cousin, like Robbie here. My parents died when their ship sank near Edinburgh while they were traveling down the coast of Scotland. My mother was the youngest sister of Rory, your father. I was only a year old when it happened, and your father and mother took me in and raised me as a son, and I will always call them Mother and Papa. But I am not their son, I am their nephew. You are the only son of Rory and Cullodena MacTavish. You are the rightful heir, Payden, and we aim to keep you safe.”
“Rightful heir . . .” Elspeth repeated.
“What do you mean?” Kirsty said. “You are making no sense. Who is this MacTavish?”
Muireall turned in her chair to face Kirsty. Aunt Murdoch reached over and took her hand, patting the back of it with her other.
“Our father was the Ninth Earl of Taviston and our mother the countess.”
“What are you talking about?” Kirsty said.
Elspeth stared at Muireall. “I remember,” she whispered. “I remember them calling her Lady Taviston. That is why, is it not?”
Muireall nodded. “Father was ‘my lord.’ Do you remember, Elspeth?”
“I do. He was always just Papa to me and to you and to James, though. Do you remember his plaid? And Mother’s gown that matched?”
“I do. He wore the plaid and his bonnet with the three feathers when they entertained, and Mama wore her dark blue dress with the plaid sash pinned on her left shoulder.”
Elspeth could feel her lip tremble. Her memories, the flashes of long ago faces and places, dear to her but forgotten or forced away. “You told me,” Elspeth said, tears welling in her eyes, “and Aunt and James too. You told me to forget it all, to never mention any of it again. But we had such a lovely, happy family.”
“We couldn’t trust a child your age to not blurt out some mention of Taviston or of your home and your parents. Kirsty was too young and Payden just a babe in my arms,” Aunt said. “It was too dangerous.”
Payden stood, his back straight, his face serious and a little pale. “What does it mean, Aunt Murdoch? What do you mean, I’m the heir?”
“You’re the Tenth Earl of Taviston, Lord Taviston. You inherited when Father died,” Muireall said and stood. “You’re the chief of the clan.”
Payden stared at Muireall, his head dipping as she dropped a curtsy, his face paler than before. He turned, hurried out of the room, and Elspeth heard the beat of his steps on the stairs. A door slammed above them. They all were all staring at the door to the parlor, as if an apparition had just appeared, or rather disappeared.
Robert stood. “I’m going to wait a bit and then knock on his door.”
“How arrogant you are, Muireall,” Kirsty hissed and jumped from her seat. “So sure of everything and everyone that you are the only one worthy to know and understand this. You, the head of the family! Elspeth and I and Payden are too stupid or ridiculous to understand? What a mess you’ve made.”
Muireall was white-faced, her mouth open, when she dropped into the seat behind her.
“She’s been shocked by it all,” James said, glancing at Kirsty. “She’ll cool down, Muireall.”
Elspeth stared at her older sister and shook her head. “It was wrong of you, Muireall, but I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same if you really think there is danger. Is this why you are so worried that someone is after us? That someone has figured out who we are? Who Father was?”
Muireall covered her face with her hands and bent over at the waist. Aunt was shushing and rubbing her back. Elspeth looked at Aunt Murdoch.
“Tell me. Tell me the whole story. What is the danger?”
“Your grandfather, the Eighth Earl of Taviston, had a son by a washer woman in the village prior to his marriage. He did not marry the washer woman, of course. The son is Cameron Plowman, as your grandfather refused to allow her to use his surname. He married your grandmother, the third daughter of the chief of the Clan McKenna, shortly after and sired your father, Rory, and your aunts, Maeve and Katherine. Maeve was James’s mother and Katherine was Mrs. McClintok’s.”
“And the danger?”
“Grandfather gave his by-blow an education far above what was expected, and Plowman went to Edinburgh and worked for a shipping company after he was done with his schooling. He took possession of that company on the owner’s death. The man had sons, but after he died, stabbed to death leaving a tavern, it was discovered that his will had been recently changed, probably under duress. All of the man’s commercial holdings, ships, warehouses, private wharves, all left to Plowman,” James said.
“And the family suspected foul play?” she asked.
“They were a wealthy family even without the business and took Plowman to court, but they abruptly dropped the case,” James said. “One of the man’s daughters was brutally assaulted. She was never right in the head after that and hanged herself from a beam in their carriage house stables.”
“Oh my God,” Elspeth said. “But how is he connected to us other than being half-sibling to our father?”
“Cameron Plowman claimed that he was the rightful heir to the earldom, that he was chief of the clan. An illegitimate heir can inherit in Scotland if the parents are eventually married,” Aunt Murdoch said. “He came back to Taviston rich and brutal with anyone who got in his way. He said he had documents that proved his mother was married to your grandfather.”
“Was there any chance he was right?” she asked.
“No. No, of course not. Right or wrong, the earl would marry a woman of his own class, prepared to be a countess. Plowman’s mother was an illiterate washer woman, and a prostitute when necessary to keep a roof over her head, although your grandfather provided well enough for them all to live on without her lifting her skirts ever again. She had six other children, two died in childbirth; one died when the man she was servicing took exception to the child’s cries and put a pillow over the infant’s face. Two sisters survived, although one had followed her mother into prostitution. Plowman was furious with her when he returned from his schooling and beat her near to death.”