Chapter Twenty-Seven
Donald Drummond paced back and forth in the inn’s upper room, an irritating mix of impatience and apprehension.
He wrung his soft, white hands together, as if he were kneading dough.
The whispers of the innkeeper’s daughters drifted in.
They were as perplexed by the haughty stranger as Cullen, and were gossiping and giggling just outside the door.
Larne got very few visitors of Donald’s ilk, so Cullen couldn’t blame them.
He could almost sympathise with the man’s situation. ‘It is no small thing to be tying yourself forever to a young woman you have never met,’ he said.
‘I have no concern about my bride being deficient. I am told she is the epitome of grace and beauty.’
‘You’ve never met Briony. Do I have that right?
‘You do. But I have reliable reports on her looks and good breeding.’
Drummond made Briony sound like a brood mare. Would he want to check her teeth when he met her?
‘It is a mutually beneficial arrangement,’ continued the man.
‘Should marriage not be about the coming together of two souls who can get along?’
Drummond made a sound between a snort and a laugh.
‘For peasants, maybe. But this marriage is the fulfilment of a promise to an old friend, a matter of honour. I am taking Briony in marriage because her father knew he would be consumed by his affliction of the lungs. He did not want the lady to be alone and unprotected in this world.’
‘Nor did he want her fortune to be alone and unprotected,’ said Cullen steadily.
Drummond tutted and shook his head. ‘Why am I discussing this with you? What can you know of honour and fidelity? You clearly married that dark one because she is a beauty. I suspect it had nothing to do with her soul. And lust fades, my friend.’
‘I’m not your friend,’ said Cullen, growing weary of Drummond’s condescension. ‘Are you more worried about what Briony will think of you, or what you will think of her?’
Drummond just rolled his eyes and turned away. So, the latter. This man did not care if his bride wanted him.
‘Where has Murphy got to with my things?’ whined Donald, a short while later.
‘What is taking the blasted man so long to haul up a chest?’ He brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his impeccable jacket, an action betraying a certain nervousness about meeting his bride.
Or it could be because he was just astoundingly vain for one so unblessed in looks.
Footsteps on the stairs announced Briony’s arrival.
She burst in, a vision in a pale yellow dress, hair flowing free like a shining, golden river down her back.
God knows where she got the dress, probably stole it, but it made her look young, unspoiled, and utterly beautiful. Lowri followed on her heels.
Briony stopped dead when she saw Donald Drummond. Cullen thought he saw a shadow of dismay cross her face, but it soon vanished. Her mouth opened in a little ‘oh’ and, with a shy smile, she said, ‘Sir, are you Donald Drummond?’
‘I most certainly am,’ sputtered Drummond, drinking in the sight of the young lass as though he couldn’t believe his luck.
Briony held out her hand for him to kiss, and he took it, bending over to plant a lingering kiss as she gushed, ‘Oh, Sir. I am so glad you have come to my rescue. I have suffered the most terrible ordeal.’
Drummond held onto her hand and placed his other hand on top.
‘I heard all about it and rushed here as soon as I could.’ He quickly dispensed with pitying her ordeal and proceeded to gushing flattery.
‘Oh, my dear, your charms were not exaggerated. What a beauty you are. I am blessed, truly blessed to have such a bride.’
‘And such a fortune,’ mouthed Cullen to Lowri. She put a finger to her lips to shush him, but the other two were oblivious to them. They only had eyes for each other. Drummond droned on with one compliment after another.
‘I am sure you exaggerate my virtues most terribly,’ gasped Briony.
Lowri rolled her eyes and mouthed, ‘What virtues?’ back at Cullen.
Briony must have been disappointed at her groom’s plainness and age, but she hid it well and turned the full force of her charm on him.
‘You should not compliment me so. It will go to my head.’ She placed her palm upon her heart.
‘And I am so happy to be betrothed to such an honourable and handsome man.’
Drummond practically purred at that, the fool.
‘Sir, I beseech you. People have shown me great kindness here.’ Briony nodded at Cullen and Lowri. ‘But I yearn to get away from this place. It holds such dreadful memories, such horrors.’ Her voice was thick, at the edge of a sob. ‘Can we not sail away as soon as may be?’
‘Of course. I am as keen to be away as you. Already, we are of one mind, my dear.’ Donald stroked her hand in his, bent, and kissed her cheek. He left a wet mark that shone in the light from the windows. Briony stiffened, and Cullen felt a stab of pity for the lass.
A clatter and thump on the stairs announced the arrival of Murphy. ‘I brought your things from the ship, Master,’ he huffed, hauling in a sizeable wooden trunk. The man’s fleshy features were sheened with sweat.
‘Well, you can just take it back again. I have my bride, and we are leaving.’
Murphy looked about the room in confusion. ‘And where is the lady?’
‘Here, in front of you, dullard,’ said Drummond, waving a hand at Briony.
Murphy gawped, his mouth falling open, ‘But this....’
‘Can we get on, Murphy?’ interrupted his master. ‘Don’t just stand there leering. Take the trunk back to the ship at once.’
Murphy turned red in the face. He could not stop staring at Briony. He picked up the trunk. Drummond turned to Cullen and Lowri. ‘I thank you for coming to Briony’s aid. Now, we must take our leave.’
Murphy dropped the trunk with a loud bang, making them all jump. He pointed a finger at Briony. ‘This is wrong. This is not her,’ he cried.
‘How dare you!’ cried Briony in a choked voice.
‘Murphy, what the devil are you blathering about?’ said Drummond.
The servant jabbed a finger at Briony. ‘This is not Briony Falstaff. I met her to negotiate the marriage contract, and this is not her. She is blonde, but that is as far as it goes.’
Cullen stepped forward. ‘Perhaps, you are mistaken.’
‘No,’ snapped Murphy. ‘The real Briony was plain as milk, a sour-faced spinster with sallow skin and crooked teeth.’
‘But you reported to me that she was comely,’ cried Drummond.
‘I flattered the lady. That is all. This is an imposter.’
‘If she is not Briony Fallstaff, who is she?’ gasped Drummond.
‘This woman is her servant. She set the fires, emptied the chamber pots and such.’
The stunned silence that followed stretched on unbearably as they all stared at Briony.
‘You’ve mixed us up. I am Briony,’ cried the lass, her little hands in fists at her sides.
Murphy was not to be swayed. ‘No. I noticed you. Being so pretty, how could I not? There is no mistaking it. You are not Briony Fallstaff.’
‘You have taken leave of your senses, you fool,’ said Drummond.
To Cullen’s amusement, Murphy suddenly located his spine and shouted, ‘No. This servant may be a good deal prettier, and I’m sure you’d have her in a flash, but not as a wife.
She’s a liar, so she’s only good for a quick tumble, nothing more.
I believe Briony’s father even availed himself of this one’s favours from time to time.
Surely, you’ll not take a whore for a wife, Master? ’
From the smug look on his face, Cullen guessed that Murphy was enjoying his master’s humiliation a little too much.
Briony grabbed Drummond’s arm. ‘He is lying. Please. I am Briony. I will swear it on the Bible.’
Drummond looked from Murphy to Briony, and then plucked her fingers off his arm as if she were a thorny bush he had become entangled with. ‘Get away from me, harlot, liar.’
Briony fled in a rush of tears. Lowri shook her head at Cullen. ‘We can’t trust a word that lass says. It seems she has been lying all along. But why?’
‘I think you should go and find out what kind of woman we have been harbouring,’ said Cullen.
Lowri nodded and rushed off.
‘If this isn’t Briony Fallstaff, where is the real one?’ said Cullen.
‘You should know. You are in league with that she-devil, that imposter. Trying to pass her off as my betrothed,’ spat Drummond.
‘I did no such thing, and accuse me again, and you will regret it.’
Murphy stepped forward. ‘Don’t you threaten my master. He has a right to know where his betrothed is.’
‘And I cannot tell him, for there were no other survivors from the wreck, as far as I know. And that lass was wearing a wedding dress when I plucked her from the waves. She named herself Briony Fallstaff, a bride-to-be, and I believed her. Why would she lie? She has the manners of a lady, and she certainly has the airs and graces.’
‘Copied from her mistress, no doubt,’ sneered Murphy.
Drummond paced back and forth. ‘Oh, this is unconscionable. It cannot be. I will not stay in this infernal hellhole to be insulted and humiliated. I am returning to the ship at once, for it is not safe here with all these lying scoundrels.’
Drummond stormed off, and Murphy said smugly, ‘It’s the loss of the fortune he grieves, not the bride. He was only marrying her because he needed the inheritance. Gaming debts.’
***
Lowri caught up with Briony in the churchyard, standing amongst the gravestones. She cut a lonely figure, head bent, hair taken by the wind, lost and helpless in her pretty yellow dress.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she sneered when she spotted Lowri.
‘What is your real name, lass?’
‘It is Briony Fallstaff. I’ll not answer to any other. And I said, I would swear it on the Bible.’
‘Shall I bring one and watch you burst into flames as you lie?’ said Lowri.
‘Go to hell, and take your lecher of a husband with you.’
‘Not lecher enough, seeing as he resisted your advances.’