Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Lady McCormack?” a soft voice said with a tap at the chamber door.
“Aye, enter,” Laura said, recognizing Cora’s voice on the other side of the door.
Laura turned over in the bed, her arm reaching instinctively for the empty space beside her, and found only cold sheets.
Cora’s kind face peeked in, her voice soft. “Rise, me Lady. ’Tis mornin’. Ye’ve a long road ahead of ye.”
Laura blinked, her eyes swollen from the night’s tears. Cora carried a tray that smelled of a hearty breakfast.
“I thought ye might like somethin’ to warm ye before ye go,” she said, setting it on the small table by the window.
The scent of porridge sweetened with honey filled the air, mingling with that of fresh oatcakes, smoked ham, and a small pot of strawberry preserves.
“I also packed a bundle of breads, cheeses, smoked fish, and a jug of milk for the journey,” Cora said.
Laura sat up slowly, clutching the blankets to her chest. “Ye didnae need to go through the trouble,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and sadness.
“Aye, but I did,” Cora replied firmly, placing her hands on her hips. “Ye’ll nae leave this castle hungry, that I promise ye. Now, come sit, lass, and eat while it’s still hot.”
She poured milk into a small pewter cup and handed it to her.
The warmth of the meal helped settle Laura’s trembling hands. She broke a piece of the oatcake, spreading honey across its surface before taking a small bite. The sweetness lingered on her tongue, stirring memories of simpler days before her heart had known such ache.
“Thank ye, Cora,” she said softly, though her eyes remained downcast. “Ye’ve been more of a friend to me than I deserve.”
Cora sat beside her, shaking her head. “Nonsense, lass. Ye’ve a good heart.
The Laird may be too proud to see it now, but one day he’ll ken what he’s lost.” Her tone was fierce, but there was sorrow in her gaze as well.
“It’s nae right what he’s done to ye. Sendin’ ye away like some unwanted guest.”
Laura’s throat tightened, and she set down her cup before she could spill it. “Please, Cora, daenae speak ill of him,” she whispered. “He believes he does what’s best. For me… and for the bairn.”
Cora’s expression softened, and she reached out to clasp Laura’s hand, giving it a tender squeeze.
“Best or nae, it still breaks me heart to watch ye go. I greatly value our friendship, and I will be hollow when ye leave,” Cora said.
Laura realized that she wasn’t just leaving Bradley but also her good friend. She stood up and hugged Cora for a long time.
“I will also miss our bond,” she said. “Now sit and join me. One last meal,” Laura said, pulling out a second chair.
Cora smiled and joined Laura at the table. They finished the meal in silence, broken only by the faint chirps of sparrows outside the window.
When they were done eating, Cora rose and brought forth a modest grey wool dress and a thick cloak.
“Here now,” she said, helping Laura from the bed. “Let’s get ye dressed proper. ’Tis a cold mornin’, and ye’ll want to be warm on the road to the Abbey.” The gown was simple but finely made, the fabric soft against Laura’s skin.
As Cora fastened the cloak about her shoulders, Laura caught sight of herself in the looking glass. Her face was pale, her eyes rimmed red from weeping, yet there was still a quiet strength in her reflection. She had been through heartbreak and betrayal, but she would not let it break her spirit.
“He willnae see me cry again,” she murmured, and Cora gave a small nod of approval. “That’s the way, lass. Chin high. Let him see what he’s sent away.”
A knock came at the door, firm and purposeful. Cora opened it to reveal two of the castle’s servants, both men with weathered faces and kind eyes.
“We’re here to carry the Lady’s trunk to the courtyard,” one said respectfully.
“See that ye daenae jostle it too much,” Cora instructed, watching as they lifted the heavy chest and carried it carefully out of the room.
“Aye,” one replied, and the sound of their boots faded down the corridor.
The chamber felt emptier once the trunk was gone. Laura turned slowly, her gaze landing on the small bundle of fur by the hearth.
“Oh, Angus…” she whispered, her heart twisting. The little pup had been sleeping, but at the sound of her voice, he stirred and padded toward her, tail wagging weakly. When she bent to lift him, he whimpered softly and licked her chin as if he knew something was amiss.
“Ye cannae come with me, wee one,” Laura said, her voice trembling as she held the pup close. “The Abbey doesnae allow dogs, ye see. The sisters would turn ye away.”
Angus gave a small cry and pressed his head against her shoulder, and the sound broke something deep inside her. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she kissed his soft fur.
“Hush now, me bonnie lad,” she whispered, “ye’ll be looked after. I promise ye that.”
Cora knelt beside her, her own eyes glistening. “I’ll see to him, I swear it,” she said quietly. “He’ll nae want for food or comfort. I’ll let him bask by the fire each mornin’ and give him a walk in the gardens when the sun’s warm.”
Laura nodded, brushing a tear away with the back of her hand. “Keep him here, in these chambers,” she pleaded. “Daenae let Bradley cast him out as he’s done to me.”
Cora hesitated, glancing toward the door before nodding solemnly. “Aye, I understand.”
Laura managed a faint smile and pressed one last kiss to the pup’s head before setting him down. Angus whimpered again, scratching at her cloak as she turned to leave.
“Goodbye, me sweet boy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Be brave for me, aye?”
The puppy sat at her feet, staring up with wide, sorrowful eyes as if understanding every word. Laura’s heart ached so fiercely she thought she might crumble where she stood. She turned abruptly and walked toward the door before she lost the will to go.
Cora followed behind her, the sound of their soft steps echoing down the long stone corridor.
When they reached the stairwell, Cora placed a gentle hand on Laura’s arm.
As they reached the castle’s lower hall, the cold morning air swept in through the open doors, carrying the faint smell of the sea. The servants were already loading her trunk onto a waiting carriage.
Laura pulled her cloak tighter around her and glanced back once at the stairway leading to her chamber. She could almost hear the faint whine of the puppy echoing down the hall, tugging at her heart with every step.
The carriage that waited in the courtyard had dark wood polished to a sheen and the wheels sturdy for the long journey ahead. The horses pawed at the ground, their breath steaming in the cold morning air.
A fine carriage to be sent away in. Laura thought as she saw padded seats and heavy curtains.
Around her, the castle’s occupants gathered in clusters, their faces etched with confusion. The maids whispered behind their hands, and a few guards stood stiffly, unsure what to say.
“Where’s the Lady going?” One voice whispered, carried on the chill breeze.
The words struck Laura like stones. She kept her chin high, though her heart trembled.
Alan stood by the trunk, giving orders to a few of the men as they heaved it up and secured it behind the carriage.
His expression was solemn, his movements careful, as if aware of the weight of what he was part of.
“There now, me Lady,” he said softly once the task was done. “All’s set for the road. Ye’ll be safe with us.”
Cora fussed over her cloak, pulling it tighter around her shoulders as if afraid the cold might harm her.
“Ye’ll write, won’t ye?” she asked, her voice thick. “I’ll send word,” Laura promised, though her lips trembled as she spoke. “Ye’ve been good to me, Cora. I’ll nae forget it.”
Cora’s eyes filled with tears, and she grasped Laura’s hands tightly.
“Och, lass, this shouldnae be how it ends.” Then she whispered in her ear. “He’ll come to his senses yet, ye’ll see.”
Laura shook her head, her throat tightening. “Nay, Cora. A man like him hides behind pride when he’s afraid of what he feels.”
She turned slightly, her gaze drawn upward to the high stone walls of the castle.
And there, in the window overlooking the courtyard, she saw him, Bradley.
His face was shadowed, unreadable, yet she could feel his eyes upon her.
Her heart gave a violent twist, and she could scarcely breathe for the ache of it.
“He’s a coward,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “A coward who cannae face the woman he’s broken.”
Cora followed her gaze and pressed a trembling hand to her lips. “Oh, Laura…”
But Laura straightened, blinking back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes. “If he willnae come down to bid me farewell, then I’ll nae give him the satisfaction of seein’ me beg.”
Alan cleared his throat quietly, his voice gentle. “Me lady, the men are ready to ride.”
Laura nodded and stepped toward the carriage, the hem of her cloak brushing the cobblestones. Her heart pounded in her chest as she placed her hand on the door.
“Goodbye, Cora,” she said softly. “Take care of Angus. Let him play in the sunshine.”
Cora could only nod, her tears spilling freely now.
“God keep ye, Laura and the bairn,” she said through sobs.
Laura hesitated for the briefest moment, then climbed into the carriage without another word. The door shut behind her with a hollow thud that echoed like the closing of a chapter in her life.
Alan swung into the saddle, his expression grim as he gave the signal to the others. The guards formed up beside the carriage, their horses stamping and snorting in the cold.
Laura peered through the small window as the carriage began to roll forward, the castle slowly receding from view. For one fleeting instant, she thought she saw Bradley’s hand rise as if to stop her, but then the carriage turned, and he was gone from sight.
Behind her, the murmurs of the servants faded into silence, swallowed by the wind. Ahead lay the long road to the Abbey, and whatever fate awaited her there. Laura pressed a trembling hand to her belly and whispered softly,
“We’ll be all right, me wee bairn. Somehow, we’ll be all right.”
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, hot and bitter, as she tried to understand where everything had gone wrong. One moment she had been his wife, his beloved, and now she was cast aside like a stranger.
Her thoughts swirled, heavy and wild, and she pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the window. The landscape of the mainland stretched before her, and the place where she met Bradley’s mother came into view.
Then, like a bolt of clarity, the truth struck her.
She remembered that day when Ophelia had appeared pleading for forgiveness, and Bradley’s cold refusal to let her cross the threshold.
Now, she too was being sent away, banished in the same cruel fashion.
It was a pattern, she realized, one born from pain he had never healed.
Anger began to rise within her, pushing through the sorrow like fire through snow.
“He’s punishin’ me for her sins,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“But I’m nae his maither. I’ve betrayed him in naught.” Her tears dried, leaving only a tight ache in her chest and a fierce spark of defiance.
“He may think to exile me like her, but he’ll learn soon enough, I’ll nae be broken as she was.”