Page 42 of Her Highland Prophecy
He continued pacing for what felt like an interminable time before the door finally opened and his father’s manservant allowed him in before exiting.
“What is it, Gordain?” his father asked impatiently as soon as he entered and Gordain knew that this would not end well. Even so, there were things that needed to be said.
“Good morning, Faither,” he started. “We need to talk about the rents.”
His father sighed heavily and sat down in his chair. Gordain sat across from him, sitting ramrod straight. This time he would be heard.
Normally his father would give him some sort of vague response before scolding him for interfering like some sort of recalcitrant child. He would no longer allow it. He only had a few weeks left before Diana left and whether he could persuade her to stay or not, they had to find a viable solution for the Clan’s finances.
“I have already talked with ye more than once about the rents, Gordain,” his father said with a touch of asperity in his voice. “What do ye wish to talk about this time?”
Gordain refused to be cowed by the obvious disapproval coming from his father.
“We are nae doing enough, Faither. If anything should happen to the crops this year the Clan willnae have enough money to buy what is necessary for the winter. Let alone pay taxes to the English.”
His father waved his hand dismissively.
“We have always survived before. Our people are used to hardship. If the worst should happen as ye say, then we will endure like we have so many times before.
“We will be ruined,” Gordain insisted. “We havenae ever been so low in both funds and supplies. If something doesnae change then our people will see that we cannae protect them and then someone else will take charge of the Clan.”
“The Clan is loyal, Gordain. Ye are borrowing trouble where there is nay.”
Gordain was annoyed at his father’s refusal to see sense. It was as if he was ignoring the problem that was right in front of him and he could not understand why. It was not difficult to see that the Clan was going to be in deep trouble soon. His father was an intelligent man. He had to know as well.
“We need to start collecting the rents more diligently,” Gordain insisted. “We cannae make exceptions this time.”
His father drew himself up to his full height. He was still shorter than Gordain was, but he commanded respect when he spoke.
“Do ye presume to tell me what to do?” he asked, the look in his eyes nothing like the mild-mannered man that he was used to.
“I do if it is what is best for the Clan,” Gordain retorted.
The two men stared at each other in the eyes, neither willing to back down. The silence stretched for one long moment before Gordain broke it.
“Why do ye want so badly to allow the tenants nae to pay us rent? It doesnae make sense,” he said. “They will nae think ye a harsh master if ye only collect what is due.”
“Oh, they will nay think that, will they?” his father asked with a mirthless smile.
Gordain did not know what to say in response. Truthfully, he knew that some people would be disgruntled, but most would be agreeable to pay the sum that they were meant to. There were always troublemakers, of course, but if they collected even half of the rents it would be a vast improvement.
“Maybe some will,” he said. “But will ye lose yer Lairdship over a few angry tenants?”
He could see that his words had impacted his father when the look on his face turned pensive again.
“I willnae be the tyrant that me Faither was,” he finally said. “If they cannae pay the rent I willnae force it out of them.”
“Someone will challenge ye if ye dinnae change how things are,” Gordain said.
“So be it, then,” his father said, grim acceptance on his face.
Gordain was annoyed again. This was his inheritance that they were talking about. How could his father just give it away like that?
“Do ye care so little about the Clan that ye would give it to someone else?” he asked.
“I dinnae believe that we will be challenged over this.”
“Why give them the opportunity?”
