But the horror had only begun, Elise realized as Winnie went on. The political tide then turned against all Highlanders.
"Clearances, they call it. Evictions." Winnie jabbed her needle into the cloth. "Murder. Our chiefs evicted us. Their own kin. All in the name of progress. But the Duchess of Sutherland, she is the devil incarnate. Ninety families, she started with, but the numbers got as high as two thousand families in a single day."
Elise gasped. "Dear God, how is that possible?"
"It happened."
"Who is this duchess?"
"The most powerful woman in all Scotland—mayhap, the world. She owns tens of thousands of acres of land. When she realized ranching held better profit than farming, she began evictions. Thousands thrown out of their homes no matter their age or infirmity. Many were left by the wayside to die like animals. Not a family lives who hasn't been touched by the clearances. My great uncle Duncan McKay," Winnie's voice grew shaky, "he and his family, caught in the dead of night. Four bairns burned in their beds."
Elise's throat constricted at the picture of burning beds and children screaming for their parents.
Soundless tears rolled down Winnie's cheeks. "Duncan lived, poor devil, despite being nearly burned to death. They brought him here."
"Here?" Elise asked in a choked voice.
"Aye. My mother was Cameron's father's healer, then his for many years. But she couldna' do a thing for Duncan. He could have lived, or so she said, but the spirit died with his wife and children. There are others, but Duncan I remember best." She looked up "Have you ever seen a man burned?"
Unreasonable panic rose with the memory of the fire that had so quickly spread across the Amelia's cabin floor. Elise shook her head.
"Pray you never do." Winnie returned to her embroidering. "The Campbells stood alongside the duchess. They had government and church sanction. We were to be broken, you see. It did not matter that our men fought for the crown while their families died at home. We never bowed to their authority and that pricked them."
"And the Campbells," Elise said, "they took part in the… the…"
"Aye." Winnie nodded. "They made it their business to see to the MacGregors."
Elise's heart swelled when she learned of those few leaders who stood by their own. Of how the MacLeod chiefs improved the lives of their clansmen by ensuring their monies were shared amongst the people. The MacDonalds, too, had not partaken in the atrocities.
"Then," Winnie said, her voice softening, "we have the MacGregor."
Warmth emanated from her as she related how Cameron MacGregor, along with his young son, Marcus, defended their people. Only a few scant years ago Marcus picked up the gauntlet passed from father to son and returned to Brahan Seer with over a hundred ragged and defeated Highlanders. They were all he could save from the Sutherlund riots at Gruids.
"The Campbells were there," Winnie went on. "They gained noble rank—at the expense of the MacGregors. It's our wealth they stole. But we didn't lay down for it—and how they hate us for it." Her fingers convulsed on the embroidery needle. "They hate Cameron even more because he offered asylum to any Highlander. Two years ago, Marcus met them with a fist of iron when he attacked the Bannatyne Campbells."
"Dear God, why?"
"Katie MacGregor. If you had seen what they did to the lass—" Winnie forced the needle through the soft linen as if it was leather and gave a sudden cry.
A small pearl of blood splotched the beige cloth from beneath.
"Winnie!" Elise jumped to her feet.
Winnie snatched up the cloth and began sucking the blood from the linen. Elise grabbed the rag hanging over the hearth and wrapped it around Winnie's finger. Elise gripped it tightly, stanching the flow of blood. Winnie examined the cloth, then began sucking again.
"Shall I fetch some water?" Elise asked.
"Nay," Winnie replied, still sucking. "The saliva of the blood's owner is what takes blood from cloth." She looked at the cloth. The blood had disappeared. "This isn't the first MacGregor blood spilled because of Campbells, and it will not be the last."
A chill snaked through Elise. Would the next dead MacGregor be amongst those who just set out for Campbell land?
Elise bolted upright in bed, the echo of a scream giving way to the pounding in her ears. She looked wildly about the room but, instead of flames surrounding her as they had an instant before, only the hearth burned with soft, red embers. A faint light radiated from the coals. She gulped a deep breath upon recognizing the shadowed contours of the cottage she shared with Winnie. Which dream had awoken her this time? The one where she hadn't escaped her stateroom before it went up in flames, or the one where the flames of hell surrounded her?
Dear God, forgive me.
She choked back tears. He might forgive her, but Amelia and Steven wouldn't.
"Elise."
Elise jerked her attention to the far side of the room where Winnie slept.