Chapter 15
M argaret Silverstein kept one eye on the parlor’s wall clock timing her contractions and the other on her anxious husband as he paced before her with Lady Beth’s diary clutched in his hand.
Fretting day and night, Tom hadn’t eaten or slept since Lady Beth’s disappearance. And daily he went to the castle and called to the ghost. He’d tried everything he could think of from bring a telly over and turning it up full blast to leaving a letter stating the Blackstone estate was bankrupt in his effort to get a response—-even a furious one—-from their laird and still Tom could find no evidence of their ghost about the keep.
“I’ve a bad feeling, Margaret. Lady Beth is ill-prepared for what she’s facing.”
“I dinna agree.” Margaret wiped a damp curl from her brow, the day’s unusual heat and humidity making her even more uncomfortable. “She’s a survivor.”
“Did ye not read this?” Tom slapped the fabric-covered journal he’d found under her pillow as he continued wearing a trench in their carpet. “She poured out her heart in this book, laid her soul bare. She’s never been loved and craves it desperately. To make matters more worrisome, she’s lived a pampered life, even by our standards, never mind the Black’s.” He stopped before her. “Ye were not there. Ye dinna hear her going on about the blasted water heater, for heaven sake! What will she do having no plumbing and no knowing the language as the MacDougall rails?”
“No doubt, ignore him.” Margaret shook her head at her husband. She was worried, too, but for an altogether different reason. Having spent time with Lady Beth and having read the diary, she’d come away with a totally different picture of Katherine Elizabeth MacDougall Pudding.
Sure, Lady Beth craved a man’s love and attention as any healthy woman might, but Beth wasn’t one of those foolish women dependent on a man’s opinion to feel good about herself. She was tough, had never allowed herself to be vulnerable simply because she wanted love.
“Tom, dear, ye’re fashing is understandable, but ye forget that she made a comfortable life for herself without anyone’s help. And she’s brave.”
Beth had stood up on more than one occasion for co-workers when she felt they were being treated unfairly at the risk of her own job security, and she’d thwarted a mugger. In a verra unorthodox manner by kicking him in the jewels then vomiting on him, but she’d done it.
Aye, if anyone could get his lordship’s undivided attention it was Lady Beth, which was precisely where Margaret’s worry lay.
Margaret kenned Tom didn’t agree but she believed Lady Beth would try to hold her own against their laird. As Tom continued his fretful pacing, Margaret shifted and tried to get comfortable. She glanced at the clock as another contraction started. With a mixture of excitement and dread, she decided they were definitely coming closer together.
“Tom, how will we know if all has gone well?”
“Perhaps…” He stopped and grinned for the first time in days. “I’ve got to go to the castle.” He raced to the hall and slapped on his hat. As he shoved an arm into his coat, he said, “I must get his diary, the original one.”
“Tom, stop.” Margaret grimaced as she levered her ponderous body into a standing position. As she did, a puddle of amniotic fluid formed at her feet. “Yer babe has finally decided it’s time, dearest. Our laird’s diary will have to wait.”