Page 25 of Highland Sword
If this was indeed the work of a woman, perhaps she was being forced to do it against her will.
The three turned as one at the sound of another knock at the door. Morrigan opened it to Auld Jean, John Gordon’s aunt. Though the old woman was afflicted with shaking palsy, nothing slowed her down. She’d taken it on herself to bring up Morrigan’s clean, mended dress from the seamstress. The outfit was the one she’d worn to Inverness.
Morrigan took the dress and invited her to sit. Jean shuffled across the floor, limping slightly. She hadn’t seen the caricatures on the flyers, and it didn’t make any sense to show them to her now. She was devoted to both Cinaed and Isabella, and there was no point upsetting her.
Once settled into her chair, she looked suspiciously at the three of them. “What goes on here? Ye look to be a gaggle of witches getting up a brew for Samhain.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Well, ye’ll not be leaving me out. I been doing it since I were a wee lass.”
Auld Jean was from a village huddled beneath a rugged headland east of Inverness. If not for her involvementwith Isabella and Cinaed, she’d still be there. But her old life was gone too, and she now lived at Dalmigavie, where she watched over everyone while her nephew mended.
“No witch’s brew here,” Maisie assured her.
“Actually,” Morrigan said, “we could use your knowledge of the area.”
“What knowledge?” Her old eyes flashed. “I’m no mountain ewe, lassie. Born and bred in the shadow of Duff Head, I was, and I’ve got naught but seawater running in these auld veins. So, if yer thinking of running off through these hills—”
“No, that’s not it,” Morrigan said, fighting back a laugh. “Inverness. I heard you say your husband sold his fish in town.”
“Aye, that he did. From the time he was a wee chack, bless his tough hide.”
“You helped him, didn’t you?”
“Aye.” Jean nodded cautiously.
“So you know the area.”
“Very well. Out with it,” the old woman snapped. “I cannot be sitting about all day with a bunch of cackling hens. What d’ye want?”
“Do you know of a convent of Catholic nuns who live around Inverness? Or a school that might be run by them?”
Jean’s gaze moved from one woman to the next and finally came back to Morrigan.
“Are ye all daft?” she barked. “Does Mistress Isabella know?”
“What do you mean?” Maisie asked quietly.
“Are ye thinking of taking up with the papists now? Joining a nunnery?”
“No,” Morrigan shot back.
“Damn me if I’ll be responsible for ye leaving off kicking the arse of handsome barrister, and running off to be some nun.”
Morrigan caught herself gaping. Whether the old woman was teasing or not, she couldn’t believe that Aidan could be happy with this kind of talk. “I’m not interested in running off anywhere!”
“Who then? This one’s got herself a dashing Highland lad now.” She motioned to Maisie and then to Fiona. “And this one and her sweet lasses are putting a smile back on my John’s face. So don’t come looking to me for help.”
“We’re trying to find someone,” Morrigan said. “I promise. None of us have any intention of running off.”
It took a few moments to assure the old woman they weren’t all planning on leaving or becoming nuns. She finally calmed down. “A convent, you say?”
“Or a school?” Maisie asked. “A place where one might find nuns and girls boarding there.”
“Aye, I do know a place.” She thought some more. “Barn Hill, away from the river, up past Castle Hill.”
“Can you tell us anything more about the place?” Morrigan pressed.
“Aye, it’s all coming back to me. With the exception of a lad or two to help with the farming, they’re all women. Been there a long time, I’m thinking. I went up there more than a few times with my old man. Chatted with a few of ’em. Going back a ways, but the womenfolk living there were mostly widows and spinsters.”
“And nuns?”
