Page 63 of The Scottish Island Inn

All of my life, I have been misunderstood. As a woman, I have tried to mark my way in the world and taken the chances that came towards me. I tried to be resourceful and make something of myself, not letting wealth and class be my barrier.

I am sorry that I was dishonest with you, but only for the fact that I cast a veil over myself and did not allow you to see the true Emma Gordon. I appeared to you as a rich society lady, and once I had begun in that way, I was unable to change my representation. As the Laird’s son, you saw me as someone in your social class, and we were able to speak as equals. I feared being honest with you about who I really was: a girl from a low-class family, gifted with brains and bravery, who has made a way for herself in this life.

I did not expect to fall in love. I have never been in love, and the sensation of it – the strange softness of my heart, the tenderness with which I sought to surround you – startled me. I have not had a life of love. My life has been harsh, and it required me to be harsh.

And yet, that evening, when you spoke to me so passionately in the tavern about the crofters and how you sought to help them in their desperate plight, I was moved. And I was drawn to you – not just for your passion, but for the light in your soul that warms others. I was drawn to your eyes, soft and long-lashed. I was drawn to you as one soul is drawn to another. And as a woman is drawn to a man.

Please forgive me, Matthew. Please know that I did intend to help the crofters. You will find the hundred pounds in the tree in our special place. Please use it as you see fit – I know you will do the good I could not. And I have secured your own future in another way. If you look in the place that we joked about – the place that the cunning folk leave their devices – you shall find it.

I do not have any bad feelings about taking the dagger. I took it from your father’s house, and I hope you will forgive me for doing so, Matthew – you, who are profoundly good of heart. Your father would never have supported our union. You knew that. I felt that we still deserved his support, even if financial, and so I took the dagger when the opportunity presented itself.

My original intention was that we might sell it to gain passage to the New World, but now that we are parted, I wish to entrust it to you for your safekeeping, or to sell and donate to whatever good cause you choose.

Remember that I love you, and I hope that you may love me, even though I am a scoundrel and a criminal in the eyes of many – even though my main crime was being poor, I often think, and possessed with more wits than most. Still, I will likely hang for my crimes if they ever find the dagger.

I hardly care. If I am apart from you, there is no life that is worth living.

I am yours, always.

Your Emma xxx

‘Oh, my goodness. That is tragic.’ Sorrel found herself unexpectedly moved. ‘I can’t believe this! So, Emma Gordon was in love with this Matthew.’

‘Your great-great-great-grandfather, or something. Yeah.’ Despite the atmosphere between them, Tam still looked intrigued. ‘I mean, she did commit fraud. And theft. She doesn’t deny it. And the complainant on the summons is Dougal Balhennie, who was the Laird. So, Matthew’s father was the one chasing for her to be arrested, when his son was in love with her?’

‘That’s so sad! Do you think that Dougal knew they were in love?’ Sorrel looked up at Tam with wide eyes.

‘Maybe. If he did, he definitely didn’t approve.’ Tam looked away uncomfortably from her earnest gaze.

‘I wonder if he knew where the dagger was? If he ever found it?’

‘Maybe. These letters have been folded and refolded many times. It might have been Matthew who read and re-read them. Who hid them away,’ Tam said, thoughtfully. ‘He knew he couldn’t sell or return the dagger. She says in her letter she thought she’d hang if it was found, if it could be linked to her. He must have just decided to keep it secret. At least that way, she’d stay alive in prison.’

‘I’m not sure what a worse fate would be. Life in prison or the death sentence,’ Sorrel said, darkly. ‘Prisons then were terrible. Not that they’re exactly nice now.’

‘No. They’re not.’

‘It makes me sad for her. Emma. She was clearly a bright woman, and society had no place for women like her at the time. Rightly or wrongly, she was trying to escape the poverty she grew up in.’

‘I guess I can see where you’re coming from.’ Tam leaned against the wall. ‘I mean, she was a criminal, let’s not forget.’

‘I know that. But you don’t know what drives people to do the things they do. Especially women, especially in the past, when they had absolutely no rights at all compared to now. What was she supposed to do? Just wilt and die timidly in some mouldy tenement somewhere? She fell in love. I’m guessing that wasn’t planned. How could they be together? They couldn’t, unless they both ran off to the New World together. I wish they’d managed it.’

‘So, you think this is a love story? Pitting their wits against the powers that be, loving against the odds?’ Tam raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah. Why not?’ she asked, cross at the tone in his voice that implied she was being ridiculous. ‘Why can’t it be a love story? Those are some of the classic elements, surely.’

‘Because real life isn’t a love story, Sorrel.’ Tam ran a hand through his hair. ‘People leave. People die. Hearts get broken. The older I get, the more I think it’s better to be alone. At least then you can’t be hurt any more.’

‘I think that’s sad,’ she replied, quietly. ‘Sometimes, love is real.’

Tam nodded.

‘I thought that too. I wish we all got to have happy endings, but we don’t. Matthew and Emma didn’t. I just think it’s better to be realistic.’ He shot her a sad smile. Sorrel’s heart ached at the expression in his eyes. She longed to hold out her hand to him, to bridge the gap that seemed to be growing between them, but she didn’t know how. Tam seemed too deep in his sadness, his hurt, for her to reach him.

‘I expect you’re right.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘Thanks for this.’ She held up the letter. ‘I should probably be going, anyway.’

‘Okay. See you around.’ He turned away, and Sorrel’s heart, already broken, splintered into thinner and thinner shards.