Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“E melia,” Fergus rumbled, “what have ye done?”
“I’ll tell you what she’s done,” Mabel said angrily. She was within spitting distance of Emelia, and she reached over and slapped the girl on the side of the head, twice, before Lares managed to pull her away. “This spoiled, selfish girl has tried to ruin this for everyone. Monsignor, did she tell you the entire story? Or just her version of her sister stealing her betrothed?”
Monsignor Carrick could see that he’d walked into a hell of a situation. All he knew was that he had to get to the bottom of it, and Lares dun Tarh and Fergus Moriston held the key to whatever this was. Lady Torridon, Lares’ fiery wife, was intent on beating Emelia, who cowered behind her father so Mabel couldn’t get another shot at her.
Everyone was up in arms.
“My lords,” he said in his deep, authoritative voice, “I will not waste my time with chaos, but it is clear that something has happened, and I will discover what it is. I want everyone out of the chamber except Lady Emelia, her father, and Lord Torridon. Lady Torridon, that means you. Please leave.”
Mabel didn’t take that well in the least. “Nay,” she said calmly. “I am going to remain because this young woman has lied to you and you must know the truth. I am here to support my husband, so if you want me removed, you will have to carry me out yourself.”
Clearly, Monsignor Carrick wasn’t going to do that, especially with six of Lady Torridon’s hulking sons nearby. Frustrated, he pointed to a chair.
“Then sit down and be silent,” he said. “I have come on business for the church and you will not disrupt it. Is that clear?”
Mabel went over to the chair he’d indicated and sat down, silently looking at the man as if she had a bone to pick with him. It was an unnerving expression, but Monsignor Carrick ignored it as best he could. He indicated for everyone to sit down, but before he began to speak, Lares fixed on his wife.
“Please, my love,” he said softly. “Leave us for now. I think it would be best.”
Mabel wasn’t happy about his request. “I would like to remain.”
Lares shook his head. “I love yer passion, but we need calmer heads,” he said. “Go outside. I’ll send for ye if I need ye.”
“But—”
“ Go .”
He’d made the decision. Annoyed, Mabel stood up and left the chamber, much to the relief of Emelia and Monsignor Carrick. When she shut the door behind her, the priest turned to Fergus.
“Now,” he said, “Lord Shandwick, I have heard your daughter’s version of the story. Now I will hear yours. Was there, or was there not, a written contract of marriage between your daughter and Darien dun Tarh?”
Fergus sighed sharply, unable to look at his troublemaking daughter. “I will tell ye the entire story, with God as my witness,” he said. “But let me finish it before ye interrupt me. Can ye do that, monsignor?”
“I can.”
Fergus took him at his word. “About two years ago, Torridon and I discussed a marriage contract between my eldest daughter, my heiress, and his son, Darien,” he said. “Aye, there was a contract. But the day Darien showed up for the wedding, Emelia was nowhere tae be found. We also discovered that the man betrothed tae my younger daughter, Evie, was missing. Given the reputation of my eldest daughter, as she is unchaste, and the reputation of my younger daughter’s betrothed, as Luke probably has a bastard or two running loose in the Highlands, we came tae the conclusion that they ran away together. All the signs pointed tae it. Emelia stayed away for two months, but we thought she was gone forever. When she returned, she lied and told us that Luke had abducted her. She demanded tae marry Darien, but that was not possible.”
“Why not?” Monsignor Carrick asked.
“Because he has already married her sister.”
Emelia shrieked. “When?” she demanded. “They werena married when I left earlier this morning!”
Fergus wouldn’t look at her. “They were married today.”
Emelia flew off the stool she’d been sitting on. “Do ye see what he’s done?” she said to the priest. “He is violating the contract!”
“He has not,” Lares said, his gaze fixed on the young woman. “I agreed tae dissolve the contract, and so did yer father. We created it and we dissolved it. Nothing has been violated.”
Emelia gasped in outrage, but the monsignor threw up his hand to stop an argument. “Wait,” he said forcefully. Then he turned to Emelia. “You did not tell me that you had run away for two months.”
Caught defending a part of the story she’d conveniently left out, Emelia immediately began to weep. “I dinna run,” she said. “I was abducted!”
“Is that the truth?”
She nodded emphatically. “He… he took me,” she said, hand over her face as she feigned sobbing. “He took me and I couldna fight him.”
“Where did he take you?”
“Glasgow,” she said. “He forced me tae work for him so he could take my money. All he cared about was the money!”
“Ye said that he took ye to Sterling,” Fergus said, frowning. “Did ye lie about that, too?”
Realizing she hadn’t kept her story straight, Emelia was forced to scramble. “We went tae Sterling first,” she said. “Then it was tae Glasgow. He worked on the river while he forced me tae work in a tavern. It was a horrible place.”
Fergus shook his head in disgust as he looked at the monsignor. “She told me that he’d taken her tae Sterling,” he said. “The lass has lied about everything, monsignor. She’s pulled ye out here tae mediate something that doesna need tae be mediated. I’m sorry she did it tae ye, but we dunna need ye here.”
Monsignor Carrick was looking at both Fergus and Emelia with frustration. He didn’t know whom to believe, but he knew where he stood. The church’s teachings had to be defended in all things.
“Your daughter had a marriage contract,” he said to Fergus. “And she says she was abducted.”
Fergus was shaking his head even as the man spoke. “She was not abducted.”
“Do you have proof of this?”
Fergus didn’t, and that was a problem. It was his word against hers. He looked at his daughter as he answered. “My daughter has a fondness for men,” he said. “’Tis difficult for me tae speak of such things, but it is true.”
“Father!” Emelia burst out. “Dunna say such things about me. Ye know they aren’t true!”
“I wish tae God they weren’t,” Fergus said with some sincerity. “But yer mother, yer sister, and others I’ve spoken with since ye’ve been away have told me otherwise. I was blind tae it, Emelia. I wanted tae believe the best in ye because ye were my eldest, so I was blind tae it. Ye used that blindness. Ye took advantage of it. Ye soiled the name of Moriston, and I let ye. I’m ashamed of ye, but more than that, I’m ashamed of myself. Now, stop with the lies. Tell the monsignor what truly happened. If ye have one shred of decency, ye will.”
Emelia was looking at her father with wide eyes. For someone who had been sobbing only moments earlier, her eyes were quite dry.
“Whoever ye spoke with has lied tae ye,” she said, oddly calm. “Evie told lies because she’s jealous. She’s—”
“Ye aborted a child, Emelia,” Fergus said, cutting her off. “Shall I bring the apothecary from Inverness here tae swear that he sold ye things that would kill the child growing in ye?”
“ Father! ” Emelia screamed.
“Silence!” Monsignor Carrick roared. “Everyone will be silent! I demand it!”
Fergus shook his head and turned away. “I have nothing more tae say about this,” he said. “My daughter lied tae ye, yet still, ye refuse tae accept it. I can bring ye a dozen men who swear they’ve bedded her. She ran away on her wedding day and she’s trying tae convince ye otherwise. It’s simply not true, but if ye dunna believe that now, I dunna know what more I can say tae ye.”
Emelia was truly weeping at this point. Her father had revealed her darkest secret, and she was certain the priest was going to leave and her quest for Darien would be finished. She resumed her seat on the stool, refusing to look at anyone, as Monsignor Carrick mulled over the situation.
There was a good deal to consider.
After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“She has a case,” he said. “Regardless of what she has done, or the life she has led, the truth is that your daughter had a marriage contract, one that you dissolved without any permission from the church. A betrothal contract is as binding as a marriage. You cannot simply dissolve it. You do not have the power to do that.”
Fergus looked at Lares, who wasn’t happy with what he was hearing. “My son has already married,” he said. “The marriage has been consummated. Not even the church can dissolve it if it has been consummated.”
Monsignor Carrick looked at him. “It is not a valid marriage if your son was already married, contractually, to Lady Emelia,” he said. “I am sorry. I am coming to see that this is a difficult situation, but this is something we must bring up to the Bishop of St. Andrews. He is my superior and head of the diocese. I am afraid I must separate the married couple and take your son, along with the two of you, to St. Andrews. We must let the bishop make the ultimate decision on this.”
Lares closed his eyes tightly, briefly, for a moment before opening them. It was a gesture of sheer pain. “My son is in love with his wife,” he said hoarsely. “They are happy. And ye want tae separate them?”
“I am afraid that I must,” Monsignor Carrick said. “I am truly sorry, my lord.”
Lares’ pained look remained. “When do ye want tae go tae St. Andrews?”
“I would say as soon as possible,” the monsignor said. “Would you not agree?”
Lares’ gaze lingered on the man before he looked at Emelia. “Nay,” he said, growling, “I wouldna agree. I would have never agreed tae my son marrying this petty, vindictive, foolish woman if I’d known her true character. But her father withheld that from me because he saw a dun Tarh husband for a daughter he was afraid he’d never marry off. Lass, if you break up my son’s marriage because ye are determined tae make everyone miserable, know that ye’ll never be accepted by my family and I’ll make sure tae turn my wife loose on ye. Ye’ll live in hell every day of yer life. I hope ye know that.”
Emelia was drawn with fear. Lares was quite intimidating when he wanted to be. “I’ll earn yer love, I promise,” she said sincerely. “I’ll be a good wife tae him, I swear it.”
Lares snorted ironically. “Ye’ll never be anything tae him except someone he hates,” he said. “And ye’ll never be anything tae me, either. If ye dropped dead this moment, I wouldna mourn ye. Sorry, Fergus, but ’tis the truth.”
Fergus couldn’t even say anything. He simply hung his head, knowing that nothing Lares said was untrue. He couldn’t even apologize.
There was no apology deep enough for this.
Without another word, Lares headed out of the solar, pausing in the entry. He looked to the stairs that led to the upper level, knowing Darien and Eventide were up there but not wanting to interrupt what might be their last time together, ever. If Monsignor Carrick thought the marriage contract with Emelia had been violated, regardless of the circumstances, then there was a good chance that the bishop would think so, too.
And that ate at Lares.
Therefore, he wasn’t going to interrupt their time together.
But he would wait for them. Moving to the opposite side of the entry, with his eyes on the stairwell, he waited.
It was a long and sorrowful wait.
*
“What do ye think is going tae happen?” Caelus asked. “A damn priest is here. Can he actually annul the marriage?”
No one knew.
Caelus was standing with his brothers—Kaladin, Estevan, Leandro, Lucan, and Cruz—as well as Calum and Guthrie. Monsignor Carrick had briefly explained why he was coming to Blackrock on the journey over from the fork in the road, but beyond that, no one knew the details. They only knew that Emelia, having not received the answers she wanted from her father and Lares, had complained to the church that her betrothal contract had been violated and she wanted church intervention.
She’d gotten it.
And no one was happy about it.
A cloud of mystery and uncertainty hung over everything.
“I dunna think anyone can answer that,” Estevan said solemnly. “But I do know that Da is inside, fighting for Darien and for Evie. God’s Bones, if that bitch had only stayed away. Why did she have tae come back? Everything was better without her.”
“Then why not send her away again?”
The softly uttered words had come from Calum. Everyone looked at him, but he was staring at the ground, lost in thought. It took him a moment to look up and see the curious faces gazing at him.
“I’m serious,” he muttered. “She’s run off twice, once with Cannich and the second time this morning. She just ran off and dinna tell anyone where she was going. So why not run her off again so she never returns?”
Estevan’s eyes narrowed. “What do ye mean?” he said. “If ye have a suggestion, lad, make it. We’re listening.”
Calum looked around to make sure no one was nearby, potentially listening in, before he responded. “The problem for Darien started with her,” he said. “It will end with her. But not by yer hand. Darien’s brothers must be above suspicion.”
“Suspicion of what?” Caelus said. “As much as I dunna like the woman, I’m not sure I want tae see her drown in a loch. Though I wouldna mourn her, I dunna think my da would be very proud if we had a hand in it.”
“Ye wouldna,” Calum insisted. “Guth and I would take her away, mayhap north tae Thurso. The Northmen still come there tae trade. We’d sell them a wench tae take with them back tae their lands. Or mayhap we’ll take her down tae Edinburgh and sell her tae a crew of one of the cogs that come upriver. Whatever we do, we’ll not tell ye, so when yer da asks what ye know, ye can be honest with him.”
The brothers were listening with some astonishment. “Ye would do that for Darien?” Kaladin said, awe in his voice. “But why?”
“Because he’d do it for us,” Calum said simply. “We’ve known ye all our lives. My da speaks highly of yer grandfather, whom he knew. Some may call ye Lucifer’s Legion, but we know the truth. There are many kinds of loyalty, lads. Not simply on the battlefield.”
Estevan put his hand on Calum’s shoulder. “Well put,” he said. “But taking Emelia away from here… That’s a serious offer. A serious undertaking and something we’d have tae discuss with Darien. The man would have tae know.”
“Why?” Kaladin asked, catching on to Calum’s way of thinking. “It would be better if we dinna. That way, he can honestly say he knows nothing about it.”
Estevan shook his head. “I disagree,” he said. “If someone was offering tae change yer life, wouldn’t ye want tae know?”
Kaladin wouldn’t back down. “Why?” he repeated. “There’s no reason for him tae. If he does, then he’s complicit. Do ye really want the man tae be complicit in the disappearance of the woman he was supposed tae marry simply so he could be with the woman he loved? That makes him as bad as Emelia.”
That put a bit of an ethical twist on the dilemma. Estevan put his hands on his hips, deliberating the offer, but as he looked around the ward and pondered the situation, he caught sight of his mother walking in the waning afternoon sun. In her fine clothing and tight wimple, she was over near the stables, looking at the horses in the small corral. The last he saw of her, she was in the ward, trying to smack Emelia as she headed into the keep. She disliked Emelia more than anyone.
That gave him an idea.
“Just a moment, lads,” he said, eyes still on his mother. “I’ll be back.”
The men watched him walk over to his mother and say something to her. She immediately looked over at the group, and seven different hands lifted to wave at her. She said something to Estevan, slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and made her way back over to the men standing around.
“Calum,” he said, “tell my mother what ye told me. Tell her what ye offered. See what she thinks of it.”
Calum looked stricken but did as he was told. “Lady Torridon,” he said, “I… Well, ’tis only that Guth and I have been here at Blackrock for a time, and we’ve seen how happy Darien is with Evie. We were at his wedding earlier, and ye’ve never seen a more joyful man. I can honestly say the two of them are made for one another. With Emelia coming back as she did and causing trouble, we… Well, we thought—”
“We’ve offered tae get rid of her for ye,” Guthrie cut in, saying what his brother couldn’t. “The lass has disappeared before and come back. We can make her disappear for good, and all anyone will think is that she’s run off again. Then Darien has no more troubles.”
Mabel looked at the Munro brothers in surprise. “Are you serious?” she asked.
Calum and Guthrie nodded. “Aye, m’lady,” Calum said. “Very serious.”
To their surprise, Mabel wasn’t enraged. She didn’t berate them. What they were suggesting was underhanded in the best of circumstances, but this wasn’t the best of circumstances. They were talking about righting a wrong.
That was how they saw it.
Perhaps Mabel would, too.
“What would you do with her?” she finally asked.
Calum glanced at his brother for silent support before answering. “Taking her north and selling her tae the Northmen who trade in the villages,” he said. “Or take her tae Edinburgh and find a cog tae put her on so she sails away and never returns”
“Then you are not suggesting to kill her.”
“Nay, m’lady. No murder.”
“Simply sending her away.”
“Aye, m’lady.”
Mabel’s gaze turned toward the keep where Monsignor Carrick was in the process of making decisions that would affect her family for the rest of her life. More specifically, decisions that would affect Darien. He was a good man and deserved to be happy, and, as his mother, that was what she wanted for her son above all. It made her ill to think that the church might decide the betrothal contract with Emelia would take precedence over an actual marriage to Eventide.
Nay, she didn’t want to see Darien miserable, forever, with an unworthy woman.
And she was willing to do what was necessary.
With that on her mind, she turned her attention back to the Munro brothers.
“Do it,” she spat.
With that, she walked away, heading in the direction of the keep. The men in the group watched her go before Estevan returned his attention to the Munro brothers.
“Ye heard her,” he said quietly. “Make it so. And make it soon.”
The mission was set.