Page 16 of Highland Jewel
“He came by to deliver my reticule. I left it by mistake with his sister.”
“Then youdohave a relationship with him.”
“Relationshipis too strong a word. We are connected through his sister. There is nothing personal between us.” Maisie squeezed the back of the chair, not understanding the reason for his question or his sharp tone. Archibald was a serious man, but not normally a stern one. “His sister is a friend of mine.”
“Then I forbid it.”
“Forbid what?” Maisie felt prickles of irritation rising on her neck. “You forbid me to have a friend who is a widow with two young children?”
“I forbid you to associate with the brother.”
She wasn’t planning to associate with him. Nothing had transpired between Maisie and the lieutenant thateven hinted at them meeting in the future. Still, she was too annoyed by Archibald’s dictatorial decree to admit anything of the sort. She remained silent.
“The man isnotto set foot in this house ever again.”
Maisie suddenly realized what this was about. Archibald was concerned about having amilitaryman in the house, not because of her, but because of his own radical friends, who were often guests here.
“Are my instructions clear?”
She found his drawled repetition irksome, and she barely managed to keep her tone civil. “I’m twenty years old. I’m not a child. I’ve already explained myrelationshipwith the man. I didn’t invite him to come here today. But for the future, if you wish to ban Lieutenant Campbell or anyone else from calling, then you should advise your servants not to let him in the house.”
Clutching her bag tightly under her arm, Maisie started toward the door.
“Wait. I have a few things to say to you. Things you need to hear.”
Archibald clasped his hands behind his back.
“Since coming to Edinburgh, you’ve been allowed to drift. You have no purpose. You live a mindless existence, floating along, lost in your volumes of poetry and your novels, visiting with like-minded friends, for all I know. It’s obvious that you lack the motivation and the intellectual capability of others. That’s not your fault. You have other gifts.” He gestured toward her face and hair. “Gifts that may land you a husband.”
He pointed at the street outside his window.
“You surely are not aware of the affairs of the world out there, but no one knows better than I that the nation is spinning out of control. Now, I realize you have little else on your mind these days other than eligible bachelors. It’s only natural for a woman your age to be thinking aboutfinding a husband. You will have no future in this world if you do not marry well. Your father left you precious little in terms of dowry. And as a young woman with no fortune, you must rely on what little you have to offer.”
Archibald stabbed his desk with a finger.
“But from what I gather, Campbell is—or was—a member of the Royal Highlanders. They are the iron fist of the king, ruffians used by the government to brutalize and repress people throughout the empire. This man is not a suitable match. You are not to see him. Not to speak to him. Not to have any association with him. You willnotbe courted by him. I insist on having my way in this.”
Maisie stood with her hand on the doorknob. She seethed, ready to blast him with a few choice words regarding how little he gave her credit for. She had a mind. She had dreams. She had aspirations. She hadn’t been drifting. And finding a husband was not on her list. She was capable of making rational judgments. She might not be a university-trained physician like her sister, but she was an intelligent woman.
There was no point. Archibald’s treatment was a mirror image of how her father treated her. Thomas Murray had raised two daughters, but only one had any real value. The elder was an angel blessed with every imaginable gift. The younger was simply a brainless doll to dress up and pat on the head and ignore.
A part of her would have loved to tell Archibald all she was doing, but she had a pamphlet that needed printing.
Pulling open the door, Maisie left without uttering another word.
CHAPTER7
The Wednesday night gatherings in the Brewers’ Guild Hall in Canongate had been growing in size every week since Fiona and Maisie began to hold their meetings there. The place was large and comfortable and cost them nothing since several women running breweries in Edinburgh had taken an active role in the Society. And because many of the workers in the area’s dozen or so breweries and malthouses were female, the two organizers found a ready audience for their talks.
More than a week had passed since the armed militia had broken up the protest in the Grassmarket, but the anger in these women was not fading. Even the death of old King George and the elevation of the Prince Regent to king made no difference. In fact, Maisie felt even more women had stepped forward tonight to voice their commitment to fight for change. Rebellion crackled in the air.
“Do you realize what you’ve been doing of late?” Fiona asked as the two left the hall.
“Tell me.”
“You’ve become a leader. You don’t stand to the back anymore, leaving me to do the talking. You don’t look at me when someone asks a question; you step up to answer. And it’s a good thing because you talk sense. You don’t allow raw emotions to take over a discussion. You offer solutions. You motivate others to act. To be more involved.”
Maisie smiled as they moved out of the shadow of the building toward the street. Fiona’s approval meant the world to her. Every day, she felt herself testing her wings a little more. She was learning to fly higher. Every day, she became more confident. She was on the course she wanted to follow.
