Chapter Twenty-One
Anne knew she had stayed at Effie’s home longer than propriety allowed, yet neither Effie nor her parents made her feel unwelcome.
The familiar comforts of the mill house soothed her.
The scent of baking bread. The soft clatter of dishes.
The steady hum of voices that wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
When Effie’s mother and father returned from working at the mill, they greeted Anne warmly, their smiles kind and reassuring.
If they noticed her swollen eyes or the tightness in her voice, they were gracious enough not to mention it.
Anne was deeply grateful for their gentleness.
Since losing their own parents, she and Gowan had always found kindness in this home.
Not wishing to seem rude, she accepted their invitation to stay for supper. They had just settled around the table when the door opened and Gowan stepped inside.
Effie’s parents welcomed him with delight, insisting he join them. Immediately Gowan’s curious gaze searched her face, an expression darkening his features even as he fell into conversation with Effie’s father about mill orders. He had come looking for her. She was certain of it.
When the meal ended and they stepped into the cool evening air, Anne’s reluctance returned.
The fading sunlight brushed the sky in gold and rose, and the scent of grain and river mist drifted around them.
Her heart was heavy, exhaustion settling, as she waited for Gowan’s questions. She didn’t have the energy to lie.
They had not walked far before Gowan spoke. “Camden came to see me earlier. We talked.”
Anne stopped short, surprise tightening her chest. “Wh-what about?”
Gowan continued forward, forcing her to follow. “He told me he wishes to court ye. Intended to speak with me this morning.” He glanced sideways. “He looked a sorry sight. Bruised, filthy, barely steady on his feet. Claims he was lured to the shack, struck on the head, and drugged with herbs.”
Anne released a sharp, disbelieving breath, shaking her head. “And also tricked into removing his clothing and spending the night there?” Bitterness edged her words making her voice sound shrill. “I ken what I saw, Gowan.”
Her brother’s expression softened with understanding. “Aye. That was my first response as well. So I let him speak his piece…”
He paused, “…before I considered planting my fist into his face.”
Anne blinked. “Considered?”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Temptation passed after hearing what he had to say.”
At least their friendship had not been ruined. Despite it all, she didn’t wish for Gowan to lose one of his closest friends. But she did expect Gowan to be a bit more reluctant to accept Camden’s explanation. “Ye believed him. He is yer friend after all.”
“I want to believe him. But no one is more important than ye, Anne,” Gowan replied carefully. “I do believe Moyra is capable of scheming and doing what Camden claims. She cannae be trusted, ye ken this.”
Anne folded her arms, thoughtful now rather than angry. “It seems strange that ye and Effie so readily agree on this. Ye are both known for yer lack of easy trust.”
Gowan’s brows shot up. “That Effie agrees with me on something, now that is unsettling.”
Anne laughed softly, the lightness of the moment easing some of the tightness in her chest. “Aye, it is.”
Keeping her gaze ahead, Anne said. “I truly dinnae ken what to think. As ye are well aware, I have never been courted, Gowan. I’ve no experience sorting truth from heartbreak.”
They continued toward the village, twilight stretching long shadows across the path. Lamps were beginning to glow in windows, and familiar sounds drifted through the evening air.
Gowan walked past his shop without stopping.
“I will see ye home,” he said simply. “Get some rest. We will talk about this in the morning. I am sure our heads will be clearer.” Anne nodded, grateful for his quiet steadiness, always there for her, even if her thoughts still tumbled in every direction.
Sleep would not come.
Anne lay beneath her blankets staring into the darkness, listening to the small sounds of night settling around her cottage.
The creak of cooling timbers. The distant rustle of wind through trees.
The soft shifting of hens in their coop outside.
Moonlight slipped through the window in pale ribbons, painting faint silver shapes across the floor.
She turned onto her side. Then onto her back again. Stillness refused to quiet her thoughts. They drifted instead to yesterday, to warmth and sunlight and laughter.
Camden standing beside her path, his smile hesitant but genuine. The way his voice softened when he spoke to her. The feel of his hand resting lightly at her nape, grounding and gentle. The lingering kiss that had stirred both comfort and something new and hopeful inside her chest.
She pressed her eyes closed, the memory bright and alive. He had looked at her as though she mattered. As though choosing her had not been difficult, but certain.
Her chest tightened.
The memory shifted to another scene, sharp and unwelcome.
The shack. The damp wood beneath her fingers. Peering through the opening and seeing Camden inside, pulling on his boots, the rumpled cot, and Moyra leaving moments before.
Anne turned again, drawing the blankets closer around herself, the wool scratching softly against her chin. Her throat burned with unshed tears. How could both things exist at once? The man who spoke of love with steady sincerity, and the man she had seen that morning.
She inhaled slowly, willing her emotions to the background as she considered the facts.
Effie and Gowan believed Camden. Their confidence pressed gently against her certainty, loosening it just enough to allow doubt to slip through.
Something hadn’t been right in the way Camden was struggling to pull on his boots. He had seemed off balance.
Perhaps Gowan was right, and she’d see things clearer in the morning. Anne closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.
The next morning, Anne did feel better. It was hard to remain glum when walking out to a sunny morning, filled with birdsong and chickens clucking happily as she fed them. A cat that had been lingering near her cottage stretched atop the chicken coop, in the sunlight, its lazy gaze keeping watch.
So far the cat had yet to harm the hens, which was curious, since it was a scrawny creature. So Anne had been feeding it.
Reaching into her apron pocket, she pulled out pieces of leftover meat from the day before. The cat didn’t move away when she approached and laid the offerings near it.
She almost laughed at the dainty way the cat approached the meal, sniffing and only after finding it met its approval, did it eat the meal.
“Anne.” At Gowan’s deep voice, she stepped from the stool she was standing on and turned to find her brother nearing. He carried a bundle, which meant he’d probably gone to the bakery.
His eyes went from her to the cat, who was grooming after its meal. “That animal will eat yer chickens.”
“He has nae as of yet,” Anne replied. “I am nae sure what to do about it. He comes and goes but has lingered about more of late.”
Both studied the cat, which made a point of ignoring them.
“That is strange that he has nae attacked yer birds,” Gowan frowned at the cat. “Do ye wish for me to kill it?”
“No!” Anne cried out. “That would be cruel.”
“Ye kill yer chickens,” Gowan pointed out.
“To eat, aye. We are nae going to eat the cat.”
Her brother shrugged and headed inside, obviously eager to break his fast and go on about the day.
Only after they’d settled down to a simple meal of mutton, fresh bread, and cheese, which they washed down with cool water from the creek, did Gowan broach the subject of Camden. “What have ye decided to do?”
“I will speak with him. Hear what he has to say. I may seek out Moyra, although I am unsure if she would be truthful.”
It wasn’t much after Gowan left that morning that Anne dressed, taking extra time with her hair and ensuring her skirts were free of any stains. She also donned her newer boots that she usually saved for celebrations. Deciding to look her best would serve her well when facing uncertainty.
With her shopping basket hanging from her arm, she headed to the village square. She’d go about her day as usual and allow her instinct to guide her as to when to go see Camden.
Gowan had told Camden not to seek Anne out, but to wait for her to decide what to do next. For that Anne was grateful, not having to be on pins and needles waiting to see what happened next.
Because of the sunny weather, the square was bustling with activity. Women sat on benches conversing as they kept watch over their bairns. Men gathered to haggle over items such as carts or livestock. Vendors did steady business, calling out the virtues of their wares.
Effie and her mother stood at a stand that sold cabbage, onions, and leeks. Anne hurried over, hopeful to pick the best of the offerings.
“Another early riser,” grumbled Effie. “Mum made me get out of bed when it was dark out just to come get leeks. Are leeks really that important?” Her friend yawned widely.
Missus MacRae elbowed her daughter. “They sell the best quite quickly, wouldn’t ye agree, Anne?”
“Indeed,” Anne replied. “Ye must get used to rising early. When ye get married, it will be expected.”
“I will nae then. No need to marry, there are nae any good men in this village. All of ’em are daft.” Effie let out a long sigh, then her countenance changing drastically, her expression became concerned. She took Anne’s arm. “How fare ye? Ye look rested.”
Anne took her time choosing the more robust of the leeks and paying for them. “I am better. Have considered what ye and Gowan said.”
“Good because I have an idea,” Effie said and then turned to her mother. “I will get the bread if ye wish to linger here.”
Deep in conversation with another woman, her mother waved them away.
“I am nae ready to speak with Camden,” Anne said looking in the direction of the bakery, which was next to the apothecary. “I need to think.”
Effie shook her head. “There is someone else we must speak with. Hurry, come on.” They went to the next stand and Effie selected an aromatic sausage pie. Then she motioned for Anne to go with her to where a gathering of boys stood watching two other boys fight.
From what it looked like, the boys were evenly matched and too tired to throw punches, so they’d been relegated to rolling around in the dirt. One was Freckles.
“Come here boy,” Effie said plucking the boy up by the neck of his tattered tunic. “We require something from ye.”
Immediately the fight was forgotten. Freckles wiped his forearm across his brow, streaks of dirt and sweat forming. “What is it?” he asked eyeing the pie.
“Information,” Effie said once again taking the boy by the tunic and moving away from others who watched engrossed.
“What happened yesterday with the healer?” Anne asked, narrowing her eyes at the boy.
Freckles tried to kick her, but she moved backward. “Nothin’ to tell.”
Her hold still tight on him, Effie shook him. “How about the constable? Would ye speak to him?”
The boy appeared unperturbed and Anne guessed that he’d been in the constable’s presence so many times, the man had given up on any kind of reprimanding.
“What if I offer ye this pie?” Effie said holding it up to the boy’s nose. “Just tell us what happened yesterday and it’s yers.”
The boy shrugged from Effie’s hold, his eyes glued to the pie.
“Moyra gave me two coins. One to fetch the healer and another to fetch ye.”—He motioned to Anne with a grubby finger.
—“She hit ’im on the head with a branch.
I thought he was dead.” The boy lowered his voice in an attempt to sound grave.
“But he was nae. I kicked ’im to be sure. ”
All three stood silent for a long moment considering what to do or say next, when Freckles’ gaze swung toward the village square and widened. Then quick as a flash, he grabbed the pie from Effie’s hand and scampered away disappearing behind the tavern.
Anne turned to look and just across the square stood Moyra. Her eyes narrowed and mouth slightly parted as she glared in their direction. Obviously, she expected that they’d learned the truth because she turned on her heel and hurried back in the direction of her home.
“We should hunt her down and snatch every bit of hair out of her head,” Effie said through gritted teeth. “The daft cow would undoubtedly come up with a way to make everyone feel badly for her.”
Anne blew out a breath. “She could have killed Camden. It is nae a matter to take lightly.”
By the time Anne got to the apothecary, her basket was laden with cabbage, salted fish, bread, and cheese.
She’d lingered much too long. And although she yearned to see Camden, at the same time she was unsure how she’d feel knowing he and Moyra could have possibly been in bed together.
Although she was sure nothing intimate had occurred, had the woman kissed him, caressed him.
She’d certainly seen more of his body than Anne had as yet.
The door to the apothecary was slightly open when she approached. Yet instead of entering, she decided to knock, her hand shaking slightly.
“Enter,” came the harried reply. A voice that sent ripples of awareness through her.