Chapter Twenty-Six
The pounding on his door was frantic.
Laird Currie was sitting at his cluttered table, counting out every single piece of silver that Brody had brought back to him. He was putting them into neat little stacks, at least those that were the least misshapen and could be stacked, but the rest of them ended up in a pile.
He’d deduced that everything was there. Every single pence.
And then the pounding on the door.
He could hear a voice on the other side, begging him to open it. He knew it was his wife, so he let her pound a little while longer before he decided to answer. Throwing the heavy bolt, he pulled open the right-hand panel.
Lady Currie was standing there, her pale face streaked with tears.
“She’s dead!” Lady Currie blurted. “She’s dead and Lilia killed her!”
Laird Currie didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “Who is dead, my dear?”
“Colly!” Lady Currie sobbed. “Colly is dead and Lilia killed her. Murdered her. Now Lilia is nowhere to be found and I need your men to go and look for her because Brody is nowhere to be found, either!”
The woman was hysterical. There were several servants standing behind her, all of them weeping and carrying on because their mistress was.
All but one of them. Laird Currie recognized Amy, the woman who so ably dressed Lady Currie’s hair.
He knew her because, years ago, Amy’s husband used to serve him.
But Amy wasn’t shedding a tear. She stood there quietly, watching Lady Currie weep without reacting.
Strange, indeed.
“Calm yerself, my dear,” Laird Currie said to his wife. “Tell me what happened and why ye think little Lilia killed Colly.”
Lady Currie had a kerchief in front of her face, weeping into it.
“Because Colly suspected that Lilia was in league with my new warrior,” she said, not even bothering to catch herself as she personally claimed Brody by saying my new warrior.
“Colly said that Lilia and Brody were plotting against me. She went to Lilia to force her to tell the truth and Lilia killed her for it!”
“Force her tae tell the truth? How was she tae do it?”
“However she could! Beat her, frighten her – any way she could!”
“So she threatened Lilia?”
“I am sure she did, but Lilia deserved it!”
“And ye say that Lilia killed the woman?”
“She murdered her!”
“Was it possible that she was defending herself from Colly?”
Lady Currie’s mouth opened in outrage. “Never! Lilia murdered her and that is all there is to it!”
Laird Currie was starting to piece together what could have happened.
He didn’t need anyone to explain that to him, knowing what he knew of Colly and the way she liked to slap the servants around.
She was big and brutish, and Lilia was half her size.
But his wife would never admit such a thing.
Therefore, he looked at Amy, standing stoically away from the other servants, and motioned to her.
“Ye, there,” he said. “Ye’re Amy, are ye not?”
Amy perked up as she became the focus of attention. “Aye, m’laird.”
“Yer husband was Robert.”
Amy nodded quickly. “Aye, m’laird,” she said. “He used tae help Colm Galston. He would bring ye wood for yer fire and do other jobs around the manse.”
“I remember him well,” Laird Currie said. “He became sickly a few years ago. A sickness in his lungs that killed him.”
“Aye, m’laird.”
“He was a good man.”
“Thank ye, m’laird.”
“What do ye know of this whole situation with Collie and Lilia? Did ye hear anything?”
Amy looked at Lady Currie as the woman sobbed, clearly hesitant to speak. “I… I heard shouting,” she said. “I heard banging. Colly went in tae Lilia’s chamber and shut the door.”
Laird Currie pondered that. “Banging and shouting,” he said. “Was it Colly or Lilia?”
“Both, m’laird,” she said. “Colly was screaming about a confession and Lilia told her tae go away.”
“I see,” Laird Currie said. “Amy, I will ask ye a question and I want a truthful answer.”
“Of course, m’laird.”
“Has Colly ever beaten ye?”
Amy froze, fearful of replying, but after a moment she lowered her gaze. “Aye, she has, m’laird.”
“And have ye seen her beat other servants?”
“Aye, m’laird.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Lady Currie demanded, suddenly not so tearful. “Colly has my permission to discipline the servants. There is no crime in that.”
Laird Currie looked at her. “My dear, Colly was a brute who took delight in beating the servants for the slightest misstep,” he said.
“Ye think I dunna know that, but I do. The day she came here with ye is the day she started slapping my servants around as if she had the right. She seemed tae have a particular dislike for Lilia, or so I’ve heard.
Colly wasna a saint. She was a nasty, brutal woman. ”
Lady Currie looked stricken. “She… she was no such thing!”
“Aye, she was,” Laird Currie said. “I let it go on and shouldna have. I should have put a stop tae it back then, but I was a coward. I retreated intae my solar and let the fools run my house and hold.”
“That’s not –!”
“Wait,” Laird Currie said, putting up a hand to silence her.
“I’m not finished. Based on the history of Colly and her delight of inflicting pain on others, ’tis my guess that Lilia was defending herself against Colly, who was twice as big as Lilia.
And ye thought it was a good idea for that woman tae interrogate Lilia over some imagined plot?
Did it not occur tae ye that Colly merely wanted an excuse tae beat the lass? ”
Lady Currie was beside herself with horror. The man had no sympathy for her; that was clear. Her tears were gone, replaced by an astonishing sense of guilt and disbelief.
“That is not true!” she insisted. “Colly was always faithful to me. She only did what she felt was in my best interest.”
Laird Currie sighed heavily and shook his head.
“My dear, Colly did what she had tae do in order to strike fear intae everyone around ye,” he said.
“She raised ye so I understand yer loyalty tae her, but she was a selfish hag who wanted nothing more than tae control everyone around ye. And she succeeded.”
Seeing that the tide of judgment had turned against her, Lady Currie lashed out. “Lilia killed her,” she said. “I want justice for Colly and I shall have it!”
“Not here,” Laird Currie said, surprisingly firm.
“Lilia is gone from this place. Her freedom has been purchased as she has left Hawkhill for good, and ye’ll forget about any justice for Colly.
It seems that Lilia is the one who delivered justice for everyone here at Hawkhill by doing away with the woman.
Now, bury the old cow and be done with it. I willna hear anything more about it.”
Lady Currie could hardly believe her ears. “But what about Brody?” she demanded. “I paid sixty pounds for the man and…”
“And I have the money back,” Laird Currie cut her off.
“Clegg returned it tae me and Brody has his freedom. We’re old friends, Clegg and I.
It seems that he doesna like ye very much.
Ye go tae The Cal every night like a dog in heat and shame yer husband, and he’s had enough.
So have I. From now on, ye’ll keep tae yer chambers.
Ye’ll have an escort whenever ye leave the manse and ye’ll never go tae The Cal again. ”
“But –!”
“Ye’ll be a good and proper wife and stay home where ye belong,” he continued to shut her up.
“If ye dunna obey me, I’ll lock ye up and throw away the key.
I’ve had enough of yer behavior, my dear.
Yer days of doing as ye please are finished and if we have a son, it’ll be from my loins, as it should be. Is this in any way unclear?”
Lady Currie looked as if her husband had physically struck her.
She stared at him, wide-eyed and pale, wanting very badly to respond but knowing she hadn’t the grounds to do it.
Greer Currie had finally called her out for her horrific behavior and there wasn’t a priest, bishop, magistrate, or king in the land that would side with her.
And she knew it.
The reign of Lady Currie was over.
“You cannot cage me,” she finally hissed. “You cannot do that to me!”
Laird Currie eyed her pointedly. “I am yer husband and I can do as I wish,” he said. “Now, go back tae yer chamber and stay there. If I want ye, I’ll send for ye. Otherwise, stay there and behave yerself because if ye dunna, my wrath will be swift.”
Sniffling, embarrassed, and horrified, Lady Currie glared at the man as she turned for the stairs that led to the upper floor. She didn’t dare argue with him but Laird Currie knew it was only a matter of time before she tried.
And she would try.
Of that, he had little doubt.
He watched her as she headed up the stairs, followed by her shocked servants. When he caught sight of Amy bringing up the rear, he called to her.
“Amy,” he said quietly. “Come here.”
Amy did, trotting over to him. He eyed her for a moment.
“Do ye like working for my wife?” he asked.
Amy hesitated before finally shaking her head. “If there was something else I could do here at Hawkhill, m’laird, I would do it.”
“There is,” he said. “Ye can serve me. I’ve had no one since yer husband and Colm Galston left me. Would ye dust my solar and bring me hot wine when I ask?”
Amy beamed. “I would, m’laird,” she said. “I have a son – Robert’s son – who would be very good in service tae ye, as well. He would be very happy tae.”
“Good,” Laird Currie said, turning back for his solar. “Bring the little lad, too. Ye can both serve me. Does the lad play chess?”
Amy shook her head. “Nay, but he’s very bright, m’laird,” she said. “Ye can teach him.”
Laird Currie paused, a smile on his lips. “I’d like that.”
“I think he would, too, m’laird.”
As it turned out, Tynan beat Laird Currie with his very first game.
The old man couldn’t have been happier.