Chapter 8
Daphne followed the soldier through the hallways, quietly seething.
How dare he? How dare he kiss her like that and then… and then dismiss her?
I daenae care, she told herself, scowling. He can do as he likes. I’m only here until Lady Pilbury wants to return home. Or until—
She stopped that thought. Lady Pilbury was going to die, but it didn’t mean that they had to think about it all the time.
The soldier stopped dead in front of a neat little door, painted yellow.
“The English lady was put in here,” he said shortly. “Yer room is the next door, the red one.”
Daphne blinked. “I have me own room? I thought I’d stay with her.”
The soldier gave her a curious look. “We daenae tend to jam all our guests in together. Do ye need anything else from me?”
“Nay, thank ye.”
The soldier made to go, then hesitated, turning back.
“I probably shouldnae ask,” he said carefully, “but why are ye here, me lady? And the old woman, the English lady, why is she here?”
“She and Helena are old friends. I am Lady Pilbury’s companion,” Daphne answered shortly.
From what she remembered, gossip spread through a castle like wildfire. This soldier would repeat everything she told him to everybody; she was sure of that. Best to keep the details thin.
The soldier looked disappointed. “So, ye arenae one of Laird MacCrimmon’s women, then?”
She stiffened. “Does he have lots of women?”
That was the wrong question to ask, for his eyes lit up with excitement. She knew immediately that he’d repeat their conversation to everybody, being sure to elaborate on how ‘jealous’ she had seemed.
Daphne was not, of course, jealous. She had no right to be. She would not let herself be jealous, not even in her head. Not even a little.
“Nae many,” the soldier admitted. “Some lairds have different women in their beds every night. They’ll take a wife and twenty mistresses.”
“Nae all at once, I hope.”
The soldier gave a surprised chuckle, shaking his head. “But Laird MacCrimmon isnae like that. There have been women, or at least rumors of women, but he’s nae wed. It’s curious, for a laird.”
It was curious, but it was none of her business. It affected the soldier, to be sure, since this was his clan that Hunter would leave heirless.
Nae quite heirless. There’s Willow.
No wonder he was so keen for her to ken who he was.
Something like panic bubbled at the back of her throat, and she turned towards the door. “Well, I’m sorry that I cannae tell ye much more. As I said, I’m Lady Pilbury’s companion. I leave when she leaves.”
The soldier looked disappointed. “Well, I hope ye have a pleasant stay.”
He set off without any other word, his footsteps echoing away down the hall.
Daphne chewed on her lower lip.
I ought to avoid him. That is the sensible thing to do. It’ll reduce gossip. Maybe he’ll forget about me.
On what should have been a reassuring thought but somehow wasn’t, she tapped once on the door and stepped inside.
She found herself in a comfortable-looking room. Tapestries lined the walls, and the stone floor was covered in carpets. A fire blazed in the grate, filling the room with warmth. A large, four-poster bed piled with blankets had been pushed against a wall opposite the fire.
She spotted doors leading out of the room, both ajar. One seemed to lead into a dressing room, the other into a washroom. Padded chairs, cushions, and other furniture were placed tastefully around, offering plenty of places to sit without cluttering up the space.
In short, the room was so tasteful that Daphne could not believe that Hunter had arranged it.
“There you are, my dear,” came Lady Pilbury’s frail voice.
She lay in bed, pillows tucked up behind her back, almost drowned by all the pillows and blankets. Willow was curled up beside her, and the healer, Rhiannon, was just packing her vials and pots back into her endless pockets.
“How are ye feeling?” Daphne asked, stepping toward the bed.
“Better than I expected,” Lady Pilbury admitted. “Rhiannon here gave me a tea to drink. It was quite unfamiliar, but it eased the ache in my chest quite a bit. I feel ready to rest, and hopefully sleep, and that will refresh me. Or so I hope.”
“I’ll take meself away,” Rhiannon said, throwing her a smile. “There’s a bell to pull within reaching distance of yer bed. A maid will come when ye pull it. If ye need me, I can be here in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, my dear. You are most kind.”
Rhiannon gave a nod and a smile. She reached out and tweaked Willow’s nose, making her smile, then slipped out of the room, gesturing for Daphne to follow.
Daphne did, following her to the threshold. They both dropped their voices so they couldn’t be overheard.
“What is it?” Daphne asked, frowning. “Is she more ill than we thought?”
“Nay, I’ve encountered her symptoms before,” Rhiannon answered. “Ye are her companion, aye?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I’ve left a handkerchief with some dried herbs in it by her bed. Every few hours, brew a tea for her and have her drink it. There are some treatments I’d like to try. Maybe they’ll work, maybe they willnae. Daenae get yer hopes up. Keep an eye on her.”
“I will. Thank ye.”
“I must confess, when I kent I’d be taking care of an English lady, I didnae ken she’d be so pleasant,” Rhiannon murmured, shaking her head. “At first, when she talked about ye and the little lass, I thought ye were her daughter and granddaughter. She’s fond of ye.”
“And we’re fond of her,” Daphne responded quietly. “If ye can help her at all, if ye can ease her pain, please do.”
“I will.” Rhiannon nodded and slipped out into the hall.
Daphne closed the door after her, since the draft was making the fire shiver. That was the trouble with big old castles. They were so cold, and Lady Pilbury felt the cold acutely.
“You just missed Helena, my dear,” Lady Pilbury called. “She stayed to see me settled, then had to go off and settle herself in. I daresay she’ll be back shortly.”
“Are ye comfortable?” Daphne asked, going back to her bedside and straightening the sheets.
“Very comfortable. One hears dreadful things about Scottish lairds and their castles, but frankly, I do not think I have ever met with such hospitality!”
Daphne allowed herself a smile. “I’m glad that yer adventure is working out so far.”
“I daresay you think I’m a silly old woman, adventuring at my age,” Lady Pilbury sighed.
“Certainly nae. I’m only happy to be here with ye. I… Willow, where is yer baby fox? Did ye lose it already?”
“His name is River,” Willow said firmly. “Lady Helena suggested it, and I think it fits well with me name. Elspeth took him away to give him a bath, in case of fleas.”
“Elspeth?”
“Ah, yes.” Lady Pilbury’s face lit up. “We’ve been assigned a maid to wait on us while we are here.
Excellent hospitality. A very pleasant and pretty young woman by the name of Elspeth.
She’s very knowledgeable about the castle’s history and the surrounding land.
If my health permits it, she has promised me a tour. ”
Daphne tilted her head. “A maid? But I am here for that, Lady Pilbury. I can take care of ye.”
Lady Pilbury patted her hand. “Why, of course you can! But since we have Elspeth, I thought that this could be an opportunity for you to take a little holiday. You work so hard, you know. I feel dreadful for how much I have put upon you over the past year or so. You need a little time to yourself, and I should like you to spend more time with Willow. Think of the adventures you could have! Leave this boring old woman to her own devices and go have fun.”
Willow shot upright. “Ye arenae a boring old woman, Lady Pilbury! Is she, Mama?”
“There ye have it,” Daphne chuckled, patting Lady Pilbury’s hand. “Ye shouldnae be so hard on yerself.”
“And ye should not work so hard,” Lady Pilbury chastised.
A tap sounded at the door before it inched open, revealing a tall woman with olive skin and a mass of curly dark blonde hair. She wore a shapeless gray maid’s dress, with a clean apron wrapped around it.
“Miss Willow, yer wee fox is crying. I think he misses ye.”
Willow scrambled off the bed. “I shall go to him at once!” she cried, sounding very business-like.
Daphne chuckled, catching Lady Pilbury’s eye and shaking her head.
Elspeth gave Daphne a mild smile and a nod of acknowledgement, then set off after Willow down the hallway.
Daphne moved forward, intending to go with her daughter, but Lady Pilbury cleared her throat.
“Stay a moment, won’t you, Daphne? I’d like to talk to you.”
Elspeth paused in the doorway, just for a moment, then vanished.
Daphne nodded wordlessly, moving over to close the door. She returned to the bedside, perching on the edge.
Lady Pilbury watched her for a moment, nibbling on her lower lip.
“You have always been honest with me,” she began. “Even when it was not to your benefit. I have always appreciated that in you, Daphne. Truthfulness is shockingly hard to find in the world these days. I understand you are previously acquainted with our host?”
Daphne swallowed. “Ye mean Lady Helena?” she asked, deliberately misunderstanding.
Lady Pilbury’s eyebrows arched. “I mean the brooding Laird. The master of the castle. I noticed his shock when he saw you when they first entered my room, and I noticed that he pulled you away for a conversation more than once. I daresay he thinks he is very good at hiding his feelings, but I am an old woman who has been around for many years, and men are not as careful as they think they are.”
“I… I daenae ken what ye are talking about.”
“Don’t you? I am talking about Laird MacCrimmon, the man whose face very strongly resembles Willow’s.”
Daphne closed her eyes and said nothing.
“She has the same eye color as you,” Lady Pilbury continued gently. “But the shape is all his. And of course there’s her hair, and her chin, and… well, I think I have enough evidence. Am I correct?”
Daphne let out a long, shaky breath. Opening her eyes, she met the woman’s stare.
“Aye,” she said simply. “Ye are correct.”
Lady Pilbury did not look surprised. She only nodded, chewing on her lower lip again.
“I always had a notion that you’d been wronged, my dear,” she murmured. “I never pushed, because it’s not my business, and there was nothing I could do to help you. Well, now there is.”
Daphne flinched. “Help me? What do ye mean?”
“Why, I assume that he abandoned you. Many young men are similarly thoughtless. When I was younger, I sponsored a charity for fallen women, and you would be shocked at how many of those ‘fallen’ women were not fallen at all, but tripped up by various men in their lives. It was quite eye-opening, I tell you. I have long thought our world was hypocritical. A child born out of wedlock is called a bastard, and the woman who bears the child is called all sorts of terrible names, but the man gets away scot-free, doesn’t he?
No names are shouted after him. No, it is not fair.
I shall speak to Helena, and between us, we shall make him do right by you, one way or another. I can promise you that.”
Daphne stiffened. Leaning forward, she seized Lady Pilbury’s hand, carefully so as not to crush her fragile bones.
“Please, daenae do that,” she begged. “It’s more complicated than that.
Laird MacCrimmon didnae abandon me. I was the one who left.
And he never kent about the baby because I never told him.
Nobody could have ken that it was his. He only kent of her existence when he first came to the house.
The truth is, I believe that Willow and I are one of the reasons why we’re all here.
He’s nae the sort of man who would get a woman with child and leave her on her own. Believe me, he’s nae.”
Lady Pilbury blinked, taken aback. “I see,” she murmured. “Goodness, how quickly you leap to his defense.”
Daphne blushed, releasing her hand. “I’m sorry. I didnae mean to be ungrateful.”
“Goodness, my dear, you are nothing of the sort! I shouldn’t fret, if I were you.”
There was a moment of silence, both women lost in thought.
Daphne cast a quick, worried look at Lady Pilbury. The old woman had a faint furrow between her eyebrows and stared blankly into space. Daphne wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but decided against it.
“Ye… Ye willnae tell Hunter that ye ken, will ye?” Daphne asked hesitantly.
“Well, not if you don’t want me to. I should like to talk to him about it, but naturally I’ll respect your choice.”
“And ye willnae tell Lady Helena?”
“I shan’t tell her, but I won’t lie to her, either,” Lady Pilbury responded gently. “In truth, it’s entirely possible that she’s guessed herself. She is a sharp woman and knows her son better than either of us. If I have noticed a resemblance, she certainly will.”
That filled Daphne with dread. She hadn’t imagined that Helena would know, but Lady Pilbury was right. Helena was clever enough to figure it out herself, and then what would happen?
“Oh, my dear,” Lady Pilbury sighed, leaning forward and patting her cheek. “What a poor start to your holiday. I hate to see you so worried. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nay, I’m quite all right,” Daphne said quickly.
What sort of companion am I, letting her worry over me? She’s ill, dying, and meant to be finding peace in her last days, nae worrying over the mess I have made of me life.
Nay, that’s nae true. Me life is a mess, but the one perfect part of it is Willow. I wouldnae give her up for the world, which I suppose means I would never change a thing.
“I’m glad ye ken, actually,” she admitted. “It’s a weighty secret. But please, keep it a secret for now. Having a laird’s child, especially if it’s his only heir, presents a great risk. Me being in the Highlands again might already put me family in danger.”
Lady Pilbury looked as though she were about to ask more questions, but then closed her mouth and nodded, letting the matter rest.
“I… I had better go and find Willow,” Daphne stammered. “To make sure she’s nae terrorizing poor Elspeth. And ye ought to sleep. I ken for a fact that ye havenae slept well on the journey here.”
“I think you might be right.” Lady Pilbury yawned, her eyes drooping. “I’m glad we had this talk, my dear.”
Daphne carefully rearranged the blankets around her, ensuring that she was comfortable.
“So am I,” she murmured, easing her into a lying position. “And whatever happens, I’m glad ye can have one last great adventure. Who kens? It might nae be yer last.”
“Oh, I hope it is,” Lady Pilbury giggled, closing her eyes. “Adventures are very tiring, my dear.”