open the wax seal, her hands trembling with anticipation. Tempted as she was to scan the words, she relinquished the letter to her father.
He patted one of the straight-backed oak chairs, urging her to sit. “Let us see what the lads in Edinburgh have to tell us.” After smoothing out the heavy creases, he began.
To James McKie of Glentrool
Thursday, 19 May 1808
Father,
Pardon the delay in writing to you, but our studies occupy us from dawn to the drum. We are daily afflicted with long-winded lectures and oral examinations. Saturdays are given to debates, and Sundays to the kirk.
Davina was not fooled. Though the letter was written in Sandy’s hand, the bold words unquestionably belonged to Will. How natural they sounded in Jamie’s voice. Perhaps father and sons were not so different after all.
“Such complaining would not surprise their old tutor.” Jamie squinted at the letter. “Ah! ’Tis the word fortunate . Now then, to the rest.”
You were right, Father: We have yet to see the horses. The laundress has kept our shirts for a week, and we count ourselves fortunate to eat once a day. Please do not concern yourself, Mother. Our health remains strong, and our resolve, stronger.
He beamed at the letter, then at his wife. “There, you see? University has proved to be the right decision. And here is the mention of you, Davina.”
As for our sister, we miss you very much and trust all is well. Not a lass in Edinburgh is the equal of our bonny wee fairy. I know Father will honor his pledge to watch over you since we cannot. You are ever in our thoughts.
Davina kept a handkerchief tucked in her sleeve for just such occasions and made use of it now.
Ian entered the drawing room, his shoulders dotted with the first of the raindrops. “I hear there’s a letter from the twins.”
“Aye.” Father waved him toward a nearby chair. “ ’Tis good that you arrived when you did, for you are mentioned as well.”
Tell our brother that he has been spared the terrible ordeal of a university education, an injustice that will not soon be forgotten. You may have been born first, Ian, but remember, there are two of us. Above all, do not fail to keep our sister safe from harm, or we shall be forced to take immediate action.
Jamie looked up as if to gauge Ian’s reaction. The twins wrote in jest, of course; even on paper, their irony was apparent. But the words had an edge to them, and all in the room felt their sharpness.
Ian spoke first. “I trust I am fulfilling my duties as son and brother.”
“You are indeed.” Jamie folded the letter rather abruptly. “Let no one convince you otherwise.” He handed Leana the missive, which would be read many times before finding a home in her dressing table.
“Now to our second letter. Posted from Ayr. I wonder what newsthis might contain.” Her father’s eyes bore a noticeable spark. “ ’Tis from a cousin on my mother’s side: Reverend Benjamin Stewart.”
Davina had difficulty placing the name. Father had so many distant relatives. Who could sort them all out?
“From the Isle of Arran,” he added, as if to prompt her memory. “The Stewarts have two daughters, Catherine and Abigail. Not much younger than you, I’d say.”
Davina offered a polite smile, hoping to appease him. But she could not lie and touch her forehead. She could not say I know if she did not.
Her father read silently for a moment, then looked up, smiling broadly. “This post addresses you almost exclusively, Davina. And your summer. Would you care to hear it?”
’Tis about … me? She was so astounded that she forgot to nod.
To James McKie of Glentrool
Tuesday, 17 May 1808
Cousin James,
We are in receipt of your letter dated the ninth of May and are delighted that, after many years, our offer of hospitality has been accepted. Davina is welcome to spend the summer with us at the manse in Kilbride on Arran.
Spend the summer? Davina fell back in her chair, mouth agape, staring at one
He patted one of the straight-backed oak chairs, urging her to sit. “Let us see what the lads in Edinburgh have to tell us.” After smoothing out the heavy creases, he began.
To James McKie of Glentrool
Thursday, 19 May 1808
Father,
Pardon the delay in writing to you, but our studies occupy us from dawn to the drum. We are daily afflicted with long-winded lectures and oral examinations. Saturdays are given to debates, and Sundays to the kirk.
Davina was not fooled. Though the letter was written in Sandy’s hand, the bold words unquestionably belonged to Will. How natural they sounded in Jamie’s voice. Perhaps father and sons were not so different after all.
“Such complaining would not surprise their old tutor.” Jamie squinted at the letter. “Ah! ’Tis the word fortunate . Now then, to the rest.”
You were right, Father: We have yet to see the horses. The laundress has kept our shirts for a week, and we count ourselves fortunate to eat once a day. Please do not concern yourself, Mother. Our health remains strong, and our resolve, stronger.
He beamed at the letter, then at his wife. “There, you see? University has proved to be the right decision. And here is the mention of you, Davina.”
As for our sister, we miss you very much and trust all is well. Not a lass in Edinburgh is the equal of our bonny wee fairy. I know Father will honor his pledge to watch over you since we cannot. You are ever in our thoughts.
Davina kept a handkerchief tucked in her sleeve for just such occasions and made use of it now.
Ian entered the drawing room, his shoulders dotted with the first of the raindrops. “I hear there’s a letter from the twins.”
“Aye.” Father waved him toward a nearby chair. “ ’Tis good that you arrived when you did, for you are mentioned as well.”
Tell our brother that he has been spared the terrible ordeal of a university education, an injustice that will not soon be forgotten. You may have been born first, Ian, but remember, there are two of us. Above all, do not fail to keep our sister safe from harm, or we shall be forced to take immediate action.
Jamie looked up as if to gauge Ian’s reaction. The twins wrote in jest, of course; even on paper, their irony was apparent. But the words had an edge to them, and all in the room felt their sharpness.
Ian spoke first. “I trust I am fulfilling my duties as son and brother.”
“You are indeed.” Jamie folded the letter rather abruptly. “Let no one convince you otherwise.” He handed Leana the missive, which would be read many times before finding a home in her dressing table.
“Now to our second letter. Posted from Ayr. I wonder what newsthis might contain.” Her father’s eyes bore a noticeable spark. “ ’Tis from a cousin on my mother’s side: Reverend Benjamin Stewart.”
Davina had difficulty placing the name. Father had so many distant relatives. Who could sort them all out?
“From the Isle of Arran,” he added, as if to prompt her memory. “The Stewarts have two daughters, Catherine and Abigail. Not much younger than you, I’d say.”
Davina offered a polite smile, hoping to appease him. But she could not lie and touch her forehead. She could not say I know if she did not.
Her father read silently for a moment, then looked up, smiling broadly. “This post addresses you almost exclusively, Davina. And your summer. Would you care to hear it?”
’Tis about … me? She was so astounded that she forgot to nod.
To James McKie of Glentrool
Tuesday, 17 May 1808
Cousin James,
We are in receipt of your letter dated the ninth of May and are delighted that, after many years, our offer of hospitality has been accepted. Davina is welcome to spend the summer with us at the manse in Kilbride on Arran.
Spend the summer? Davina fell back in her chair, mouth agape, staring at one
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