"Ian Hope was Simon's faither," said Jennet. "But he wasna mine. When ma mither had been widowed for mair than a year, she took anither."

"The earl," said Hannah, seeing now how it all fit together, seeing the way Carryck put his hand on Jennet's head as she bent over a tulip, and hearing his voice, patient and responsive and affectionate. As my father talks to me, she thought.

Granny Laidlaw was moving ahead with her story. "Ye're oweryoung tae understan' how sic a thing micht come tae pass," she said, as if Hannah had been thinking critical thoughts. "But Jean was a widow, strugglin' with a young son and bent low by sorrow. And the laird was in mourning for his guidwife, and baith o' them in need o' comfort. Even half-blind I saw it comin'."

"They didn't marry?" Hannah addressed this question to Jennet, but it was Gelleys who answered her.

"Carryck marry his hoosekeeper? It wadna do."

Jennet frowned into her lap, but Granny Laidlaw spoke up clearly. "Stranger things ha' passed, and worse matches ha' been made."

"Och," said the old washerwoman with a real look of distress. "I didna mean tae hurt yer feelings. I canna deny that Jean wad make a fine mistress. But if the truth be tolt--dinna make sic a face at me, we said we'd tell the whole tale--yer Jean was ever an independent lass, and she likes bein' hoosekeeper better than she wad like bein' Leddy Carryck. Ye've nivver seen sic a bodie for hard work."

Granny inclined her head in grudging agreement. "Yer forgettin' the point o' the story. It was Isabel we were talkin' aboot. Noo." She turned her blank eyes toward Hannah again. "Ye mun understan' that young Isabel had lost her mither, and she turned back to Jean wi' aa the unhappiness aboot Ian Hope set aside. And sae she was nivver tolt aboot Jean and her faither." She paused, her mouth set in a grim line. "Lookin' back, it's clear that it was a mistake. It wad ha been far better tae tell her, and tae let her greet and screech tae the heavens. Better a few tears than what passed later when the truth was kennt."

"Did she find out when Jennet was born?" Hannah asked.

Granny Laidlaw seemed to be studying her hands where they lay on her lap. "Ne," she said thoughtfully. "Isabel nivver asked aboot Jennet's faither. I've thoucht it through ower the years and it's come tae me that she didna ask because she didna care tae see. And what Isabel didna care tae see, she couldna see, and was it richt before her face.

"And sae they went alang, and sae wad it ha' stayed, but for Lammas Fair five years syne, when Isabel met Walter Campbell o' Breadalbane."

The door opened suddenly, letting in a great rush of wind and Jennet's auntie Kate. Her face was flushed and she thumped down her basket so forcefully that they all jumped in their seats.

"The minister is comin'," she said, pulling her cap from her hair. "I couldna put him aff, and though I tried ma best."

Gelleys heaved herself up from the chair with a great groan, clutching the bowl of beans to her generous middle. "Ye ken I luve ye dearly, Leezie, but I canna take tea wi' the minister the-day. It wad put me aff ma parridge for a week."

"But what about the rest of the story?" Hannah asked, looking between them. "What about the Lammas Fair?"

Granny Laidlaw smiled. "That I canna tell ye, lass. Onlie Simon and Isabel were there that day, and Simon was deid a month later. Aa I can say is this: Isabel ran aff wi' a Breadalbane, and she's nivver been hame agin, nor wad she be welcome were she tae come. The Campbells ha' nae place at Carryck, nor will they ever."

"No word for her father?" Hannah asked. "No explanation?"

"She sent Jean a letter," said Granny Laidlaw. "It came a week after she disappeared. I recall it weel, for it was the last thing I ever read for masel' before the blindness came doon hard. She wrote "As ye sow so shall ye reap. Betrayal begets betrayal.""

"I canna bide, Guidwife Laidlaw," the minister announced repeatedly as he ate his way through the ginger nuts. "I've come tae make sure ye'll be at the kirk at four-- promptly at four, mind--when Gaw'n Hamilton rides the stang."

The minister was as long and thin as a stickbug, with great red-rimmed pop-eyes and a mouth that twitched constantly at one corner. Although he looked very different, something in his expression reminded Hannah of Adam MacKay, and she sat very still in the corner near the hearth.

Jennet had come to sit beside her, and she whispered in Hannah's ear whenever the minister's attention was on the plate before him.

"He's called Holy Willie," she whispered. "For he likes tae pray as loud as ever he can whenever anybodie is near tae hear him."

Hannah gave her a pointed look but Jennet shrugged, unconcerned. "There's naucht tae worra aboot. He's aye deef."

There was a tight, irritated expression on Granny Laidlaw's face, but she listened without interruption as the minister lovingly detailed Mrs. Hamilton's sins: a loud voice, a forward manner, and an irritating and inappropriate interest in men's affairs. Mr. Hamilton's inability to exert the proper authority could not be tolerated; public humiliation was the only solution.

""He that loveth his son causeth him oft tae feel the rod, that he may ha' joy of him in the end,"" he intoned, wiping crumbs from the corner of his mouth with his little finger. "And I depend on your presence, Guidwife Laidlaw-- God-fearin' woman that ye are and aaways ha' been--tae show Guidwife Hamilton the error o' her ways. Jennet Hope!" He turned toward the corner with a sudden snapping motion of his head.