Page 30 of Highland Jewel
They were seated across from each other. Fiona’s housekeeper, who also served as her cook, brought intheir supper, and Maisie tried to focus on her plate rather than staring at the temptation seated across the table. Her cheeks still felt flushed. She didn’t want to draw her friend’s attention.
Fiona passed around a plate of oysters. “I read something quite interesting in the newspaper today.”
“Besides saving humanity, you had time to read?”
Fiona turned a fork threateningly on Niall, which caused him to feign terror before he broke into a smile.
“What did you read in the newspaper, my dearest sister?”
She stabbed a potato from the bowl on the table and slid it onto her plate. “I read today that Walter Scott has gone to London to be knighted by King George.”
“Indeed, for finding the Honours of Scotland walled up in some old chamber in Edinburgh Castle.” Niall looked across at Maisie. “Exactly what the Hanovers need, more jewels.”
She recalled the excitement that swept across the city at the discovery of the Scottish royal regalia. The crown, scepter, and sword had been locked away and forgotten for over a hundred years, since England and Scotland were joined together in the Union of 1707. And when the Prince Regent asked Scott to lead a delegation in the search for the crown jewels, the poet had proudly obliged.
Fiona dabbed at the corner of her lips with the napkin and leaned toward him. “I’ve heard Scott is actually being honored because he is the ‘anonymous’ author of the Waverley novels.”
“Mr. Scott doesn’t admit it publicly, but it’s no secret,” Maisie said. “Even in reviews, he’s identified as the author.”
“You see?” Fiona pointed her fork at her brother. “If you published your writing, you could be a baronet too.”
Niall snorted. “Our new king is handing Scott thistitle because he’s done a bang-up job of selling a fabricated romantic idea of Scotland. He tells stories depicting an imagined Highland that doesn’t exist.”
“WhenRob Roywas published a couple of years ago,” Maisie added, “a number of reviewers complained that an anti-reform conservative like Scott had no business writing about heroic Highlanders driven to outlawry by the English.”
“I agree.” Niall sat back in his chair. “The man has divided loyalties. Do you ever read anything about the suffering and the deaths of our people in his work? Does he write about the bloody decimation of the clans and the clearances going on right now?”
Fiona shook her head at her brother and smiled. “I think you’ve been keeping company with the two of us for too long. You’re starting to sound like a true radical yourself.”
“I might be in the minority, but I don’t like the man.” He looked at Maisie. “What do you think?”
She loved listening to the discussion. She loved being part of it. She especially loved him for asking her opinion.
“There is another side to this, of course.” She put her hands in her lap. “Mr. Scott has written some excellent poetry and his newest novel,Ivanhoe,is a fine romantic tale. I would not read his novels to learn anything of history, but I know he perceives himself as a man with a good heart and honorable intentions.”
Niall cocked an eyebrow at her. “You sound as if you know him.”
“I’ve met him.”
“Where?”
“At home, a few years ago. He was a patient of my sister’s. He was carried to our house one evening after a carriage accident. My brother-in-law had gone toGlasgow for a fortnight, and Isabella saw to his injuries. She saved his leg,” Maisie explained, remembering the day. Because it was late and because Archibald was away, she had to pitch in. Even then, the man was a celebrity. But Isabella remained focused and professional, in spite of the chaos outside her operating room. That was the first time Maisie truly recognized her sister’s brilliance and expertise. “Since then, he always sends Isabella a signed copy of his newly published work. Of course, she doesn’t read poetry or novels, but I do. So I’ve read everything he has published so far… under his own name and anonymously.”
“What does he look like?” Fiona wanted to know.
“Tall. Well formed.”
“No military career,” Niall muttered critically.
“I don’t believe he could. Even before his accident, he’s suffered since childhood from lameness in one foot.”
“Ignore my brother. Tell me more about him.”
“He is neither fat nor thin. His forehead is very high. His eyes are very blue. Shrewd and penetrating.” Maisie couldn’t interpret Niall’s tight expression other than that he was pretending to be jealous. “He has silvery white hair.”
“So he’s quite old,” he suggested.
“Ancient.” He wasn’t really. When she met him, he was about fifty years of age. And despite his lameness, he was a robust and energetic man. But Maisie decided Niall didn’t need to hear any of that.
