Prologue
Edwina hadn’t heard from her older sister Darina all that much since Darina’s wedding.
She hadn’t been terribly surprised by that, even though her other siblings tended to receive relatively frequent letters from Darina.
The truth of the matter was that Darina had been a bit closer to her other sisters, whereas she and Edwina had tended to snipe at each other constantly, nagging and tossing petty insults over perceived slights (or, more frequently, over nothing at all).
Edwina was generally known for having a sharp tongue and a relentlessly teasing disposition, a reputation she had more than earned and one she did not shy away from.
Though their father, Laird Cawley Wallace, had often chided her for it—fretting, as fathers do, that no worthy man would want to wed a woman with a waspish disposition—she had nevertheless persisted in her verbal jabs, feeling as though they defined her to some degree.
She enjoyed the fact that such behavior set her apart from other girls.
She liked that it made her a challenge to would-be suitors, daring them to find ways to impress her and match wits with her instead of simply boring her (as they almost always seemed to).
They invariably grew weary of her company (or proved too easy for her to embarrass) and stopped coming to call on her.
That suited Edwina just fine. Why, she felt, should she indulge the affections of men she couldn’t care less about? Why should she encourage them, knowing she would be unable to stand being around them for any sustained span of time, let alone the course of an entire marriage?
Laird Cawley wrung his hands anew each time one of her suitors gave up on her, asking how she ever expected to be married if she refused to adopt a more temperate disposition.
She would generally laugh and shrug at such questions, for what difference did any of that make to her?
She was certainly in no hurry to be anyone’s bride.
She tended to find weddings incredibly silly affairs, with all their overwrought proclamations and pageantry, and all so two clans could become closer allies, or some nobleman could collect a dowry and then spend the next several decades largely ignoring his wife entirely.
“If you have no desire to be married,” her father demanded, “then what in blazes do you want from life, Edwina?”
In truth, she had no idea. She didn’t give the matter much thought and didn’t really see any urgent need to do so. She had her books to keep her company, and that was more than enough for her. They tended to provide her with far more mental stimulation than any living companion had so far.
So Darina wrote to her other siblings, and on those occasions when she returned to Castle Wallace for visits, she’d take a moment to give Edwina a quick hug and exchange a few perfunctory words of small talk.
That was all right. Edwina didn’t mind. They were sisters; they loved each other in all the unspoken ways that mattered and in all the superficial ways that didn’t.
They were content to give each other space.
It came as quite a surprise, then, when one day, Edwina received a letter from Darina that was addressed to her directly.
As she broke the sealing wax on it (bearing the official seal of the McDougals, the clan that Darina had married into), she wondered what might be waiting for her inside.
What could Darina possibly have to say to her that she wouldn’t simply convey to the others instead, knowing the news would make its way to Edwina soon after?
When she read the letter’s contents, though, her eyes grew wider and wider with each line, and by the time she’d finished, her hands were trembling.
Dear Edwina,
I suppose you must be rather confused as to why you’ve received this message from me, given the nature of our relationship.
The truth of it is simply this: I find myself confronted with a terrible problem, which I feel I cannot rely upon the others to properly advise me on.
Our father and siblings are kind, wonderful, well-meaning people, to be sure – however, the situation before me now calls for rather a different temperament than theirs, I believe.
In this, I hope that I might be able to rely upon you.
My life with Fergus has been a happy one; I am sure you have heard all about it from the others, as I’ve written to them about it at great length.
You may find it odd (as I do) that a love like ours began with a kidnapping, and has led to a wonderful marriage.
He adores me deeply, and has done everything in his power to provide for me and make me comfortable.
My current source of woe – and Fergus’s, as well – comes in the form of his brother James, who is in a bad state indeed.
Late last year, James was out patrolling the borders of the McDougal lands with the guardsmen when they were set upon by a group of bandits.
Though James and his men were able to prevail, James was gravely wounded when a fragment of one of the brigands’ blades snapped off and became embedded in his leg.
The healers were subsequently able to dig it out of him, but in doing so, his flesh was badly torn and damaged.
James is now in a state of constant agony, and his disposition has suffered tremendously as a result. He is imbibing far too much wine, and seems to have given up on life entirely.
I realize this may seem like a rather strange request, Edwina, but it is an urgent one, I assure you: Will you journey here to the McDougal Keep, and see if you might be able to have any sort of positive effect upon James with your presence?
He has heard the kind words of his friends and loved ones, and they have fallen upon deaf ears; therefore, I wonder if the sharper words of a stranger – one who is entirely blunt and without prevarication, as you are – might have more of an effect upon him.
You and I have not always gotten along, Edwina, nor have we perhaps been as close as either of us might have wished.
However, your gift for presenting the unvarnished truth no matter how it might be received may come in handy now more than ever.
At the very least, I feel it is worth trying, as all other avenues in our attempts to reach James have led to more misery and despair.
Your Loving Sister,
Darina
Edwina read over the letter multiple times, trying to imagine what positive effect, if any, she might have on this near-perfect stranger who had fallen on hard times. It sounded to her as though he was allowing himself to be consumed by self-pity, which was a wasteful pursuit indeed.
What sort of patience or sympathy could she possibly conjure for a man such as that?
None. And perhaps that was what Darina was counting on in begging for her assistance. Had she not specifically stated that sympathy and patience had done him no good? That he might require a much firmer hand if he had any hope of returning to his former self?
The entire thing seemed immensely far-fetched to Edwina. Still, she could hardly refuse such an invitation, could she? Darina had never asked her for anything before that she could recall, and so she supposed she had an obligation to do all she could for her older sister in this instance.
Besides, she reasoned, a change of scenery might do her some good. She’d begun to feel stagnant lately. Tormenting her younger sisters wasn’t nearly as much fun for her as it used to be, and even her books were beginning to bore her since she’d read all of them several times over.
She put the letter aside, took a deep breath, and went downstairs to tell the rest of her family that she intended to take a trip and visit Darina at once.