Chapter Nine #3
Niles was vastly uncomfortable. More so in her company because he had seen evidence of her rage on Kirk’s face, an event which he had refused to discuss.
And the fact that Kirk had spent the entire night drinking only fed Niles’s guilt that, somehow, he had contributed to this nasty situation with his loose tongue.
“Lord Edmund is sending a party to Quernmore Castle within the hour, my lady,” he said. “He asks that you accompany them.”
She sneezed, her foul mood worsening. “Why?”
“I do not know,” Niles said, trying to avoid her when she sneezed again. “He only asks that you prepare yourself for the trip.”
“And he gave no reason at all?”
“He did not. But mayhap, given yesterday’s events, a few days away from Anchorsholme might do you well.”
Mara sneezed, her raven-colored hair shaking violently. “This is madness,” she said irritably. “There is no reason why I need travel to this Castle. What if I do not wish to go?”
Niles met her gaze steadily. “It is not a choice, my lady. Lord Edmund asked that you travel to Quernmore this day.”
Mara stared at him, frowning, before slamming the door in his face. So Edmund wanted her to ride to Quernmore Castle, did he? Most likely to be rid of her, as Niles suggested. Or, mayhap, he was hoping the party would be set upon by bandits and she would fall victim to their murderous rage.
Whatever the case, she had little choice in the matter.
And since Micheline was nowhere to be found, having spent the night with her new husband, Mara quite frankly did not care where she went or what she did.
Micheline was keeping secrets, Kirk hated her, and she was doomed to a life of misery of her own making.
It had started when she agreed to come to Anchorsholme Castle in the first place.
So she packed a small satchel. Sneezing and coughing, she donned the warmest dress she owned and pulled her hair away from her face, securing it in a loose braid at the nape of her neck.
Her mother’s worn brown cloak served its purpose as she slung it over her shoulders, collecting her bag.
The moment she opened the door, however, Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda were there to greet her.
They bowed in perfect unison. “Good morn…”
“… my lady. Sir Niles informed us that…”
“…you were not feeling well. May we…”
“…assist?”
Mara hadn’t the strength to reject them. Or the will. Depressed and ill, she simply shook her head. “I do not know what you can do for me. ’Tis a simple bout with the chill that only time will cure.”
Lady Valdine suddenly produced a pewter flask. Mara eyed the steaming contents. “What is that?”
The ladies smiled at the same time. “Herbs. And…”
“…secret ingredients. It will…”
“…heal you if it does not make…”
“…a drunkard out of you first.”
Mara couldn’t help but grin. “How much do I take?”
Lady Valdine put the flask in her hand. “A few sips now. And a…”
“…few sips after the morning meal. A few…”
“…sips here and there throughout the day. But not…”
“…all at once.”
Mara smelled the contents and, with a shrug, took a long, deep swallow. Smacking her lips, she shrugged again. “I taste whisky.”
“Irish…”
“…whisky. And how would a…”
“…lady know the taste of whisky?”
Mara grinned again and took another swallow before the ladies could stop her. “My father was a drunkard, ladies. I have been exposed to whisky since I was old enough to know what it was.”
Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda were fixed with identical grins, suggesting to Mara that the ladies were not so prim and proper as they appeared. She raised the flask.
“Would you like some?”
They tittered and she smiled, taking another sip. And still another. Feeling the warmth from the alcohol fortify her, she clutched her satchel in one hand and the flask in the other, moving down the corridor with the pair of ladies in tow.
“I have been ordered to travel to Quernmore Castle this day,” she said as they reached the stairs, taking yet another swallow of the ‘medicine’. “Do either of you ladies know where my sister is?”
Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda shook their heads, a wagging pair. “Nay, my lady. Your…”
“…sister is still with Lord Edmund in…”
“…his chamber”
Reaching the bottom of the stairs and cross the old stone of the foyer, Mara felt the familiar depression grasp at her.
Since her marriage the day before, Micheline had been distant and withdrawn and somehow, Mara felt as if a wedge had been driven between them.
A wedge of secrets that both grieved and bewildered her.
Taking another drink from the flask, she smacked her lips as the great doors of Anchorsholme loomed before her.
Open to the bailey, she could see that a small army was formed.
Her brow furrowed as she saw Kirk and Niles at the edge of the formation, speaking between themselves. Coming to a halt, Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda moved up on either side of her.
“Is something…”
“…the matter, Lady Mara?”
Mara took a deep breath. Then she took another drink. Shaking her head, she proceeded into the weak sunlight.
Niles saw her coming. He said something to Kirk, who immediately moved for his charger without so much as passing her a glance. Mood dampening, Mara ignored him as well, allowing Niles to help her mount her palfrey. The knight took her satchel, leaving her with the flask clutched in her palm.
As Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda bid the party farewell, Kirk and Niles moved the men into marching rhythm, purging themselves from the great double baileys of Anchorsholme.