Kelpie drooped her lip at him. “Sir, I would not mind a beating, if only I could be staying here to work for Mac Cailein Mor.”
“What is this? Who is she?” Lord Lorne switched to English, and Mrs. MacKellar replied in the same tongue.
“She iss saying her name iss Sheena Campbell from Loch Awe, and that she iss an orphan who hass peen working in the home of MacIntyre of Craignish who iss not needing her any more.” Mrs. MacKellar’s English, sibilant with the soft Gaelic sounds, was really not nearly as good as Kelpie’s—but Kelpie was careful to keep her face blank, as if she did not understand. “But sir,” went on the housekeeper, “I am not liking the look of her whateffer. Her eyes—”
Lord Lorne bent and looked at them. Kelpie tried to make them wide and pleading.
“Oddly ringed, aren’t they?” he observed. “Well, she can’t help that. You could use her, I think. Why not try her out?” And he went on to wherever he had been going.
“Seadh.” Mrs. MacKellar shrugged and washed her hands of the decision. “You can be staying a bit, then, until I see can you do the work. We will see does Peigi have an old dress you can be wearing, of a proper color. You’re of the Kirk, are you no?” she demanded suddenly, turning to cast a suspicious eye on the blue of Kelpie’s dress.
Kelpie wasn’t quite sure what that meant, and, even with Janet’s tutoring, she dared not bluff too far. She took an instant to think as she rose slowly to her feet. “I am wanting to be a better Christian,” she said, temporizing, with an earnest face. “And that is one reason I was coming here, for the house of Mac Cailein Mor is surely the most godly of all.”
“Well—” Mrs. MacKellar looked somewhat appeased. “Come away in, then.” And Kelpie came.
Life in Inverary Castle was quite different from life at Glenfern, even though Kelpie’s duties were similar. There was a coldness here—and not only physical, although the castle was chill enough, with draughts constantly blowing down the halls and pushing out against the wall tapestries. But the chill of spirit was even more depressing. Laughter was near sacrilege, and a smile darkly suspect. Dancing simply didn’t exist, and singing was confined to dour hymns regarding hellfire and damnation. If Kelpie had ever chafed at the restrictions of Glenfern, she now realized what a free and happy life that had been. Och, that people could live like this! Worse, that they seemed to approve it! One could hardly say they liked anything.
And here Kelpie heard the other viewpoint regarding Mac Cailein Mor. Everyone seemed to fear him, even his rather mousy wife and sullen son. But they also saw him (except possibly Lord Lorne) as the Right Hand of God, fighting the battles of righteousness against such enemies of Heaven as witches, King Charles, Papists, Anglicans, everyone else who was not of the Covenant, and, most particularly, Lord Graham of Montrose, who was supposedly leading the King’s army in Scotland. But no one seemed to know where Montrose was now, at all. He had started north to raise an army for the king and then vanished altogether, and it was to be fondly hoped that the Devil had snatched him away to Hell where he belonged.