Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I'm expected to be a maither ? Me?
Isabelle paced the length of the bedchamber, her bare feet silent against the thick wool rug. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling her heart hammer with disbelief.
She stopped by the tall window, the early light spilling through the drapes.
“I cannae even tend to meself without makin’ a mess of it, an’ now I’m to care for children I did nae bear.”
She’d wed Declan in haste, a man she’d barely known, all because pride and circumstance had tangled her fate with his. Now, she was Lady McCallum with a castle full of strangers and small lives depending on her.
A knock startled her from her thoughts, sharp against the heavy oak door. Isabelle turned, heart still racing.
“Aye?” she called, her voice unsteady. The door opened slowly, and the young maid, Sarah, stepped inside, curtsying low.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, me Lady ,” the girl said with a soft smile. “The Laird’s sent me to help ye dress. The household’s expectin’ ye.” She carried a folded bundle of deep-colored fabric in her arms, careful as if it were something sacred.
Isabelle blinked, caught off guard by the maid’s easy manner. “I’d no idea I’d be called upon so soon. I’m hardly… ” She broke off, looking down at the dress now being laid across the bed.
“It’s in the McCallum colors, me Lady ,” Sarah said, smoothing the folds. “Dark green with threads of gold and black."
She ran her hand along the bodice where fine stitching caught the morning light, intricate as ivy creeping through stone.
Isabelle stepped closer, fingers brushing the fabric. It was heavier than she’d expected, soft wool lined with silk, warm but commanding. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted reluctantly.
Sarah lifted the first shift and handed it over. “Now, arms up if ye please.”
Isabelle obeyed, though her movements were hesitant.
She let out a quiet sigh as the cool linen slid over her skin.
The next layer was wool, dyed the deep green of pine forests after rain.
Sarah fastened the golden clasp at the shoulder, then arranged the plaid across Isabelle’s back so it draped in perfect folds.
“There,” she said approvingly. “Now ye look like Lady McCallum.”
Isabelle glanced toward the mirror, startled by the transformation. The woman staring back looked composed, dignified, even regal. Yet beneath it all, she felt the same turmoil, the same unsteady ground beneath her feet.
“It’ll take more than a fine gown to make me belong,” she said softly. “But I thank ye, Sarah. Yer kindness means more than ye ken.”
The maid dipped her head respectfully. “Kindness costs nothin’, me Lady . An’ ye’ll find yer place soon enough.”
Sarah smoothed the front of her apron and gave Isabelle an encouraging smile. “Come now, me Lady . I am to escort ye to the hall,” she said gently.
“The kitchens’ll be waitin’ to serve ye, an’ it’s best to show yer face early. Folk’ll be eager to see their new Lady McCallum.” She reached for the door, pausing only when Isabelle hesitated behind her.
Isabelle’s hands twisted together at her waist as nerves stirred in her chest. The thought of facing strangers, people who would judge her with every glance, sent her stomach into uneasy knots. Declan would nae be there to shield her; she’d be alone among watchful eyes.
“Aye,” she murmured softly, “best to get it over with, I suppose.”
As Sarah guided her through the corridor, the stone walls echoed their footsteps, the faint hum of servants working somewhere below drifting through the halls.
Isabelle’s thoughts turned inward, her anxiety mounting with every step. At Castle Ross, she’d grown used to whispers behind her back, cruel words from servants poisoned by Rosaline’s venom.
If they dinnae like me here either, I’ll have nowhere left to belong.
She cleared her throat and glanced toward Sarah.
“Tell me, lass,” she said, her tone softer now, “the little girls, the Laird’s daughters, what are they like?”
At once, Sarah’s face brightened, her eyes lighting up like a hearth newly stoked.
“Och, the wee lassies are sweet as sugar, me Lady ,” she said, nearly beaming.
“Penelope’s the eldest by a few minutes, steady as a rock, that one.
She minds her sisters an’ helps the nursemaid without bein’ asked.
Hallie’s the wild one, always runnin’ off in the gardens, climbin’ trees like she were a wee squirrel.
An’ Beth, och, Beth’s gentle as a lamb. Ye’ll see soon enough; they’re angels, all three. ”
Isabelle smiled faintly, her heart softening despite her nerves.
“They sound lovely,” she said. “Declan did nae say much about them, only that I was to raise them. I admit, I dinnae ken the first thing about raising bairns.” Her words held a note of quiet honesty, tinged with fear she tried to hide.
Sarah gave a sympathetic glance as they descended the grand stair.
“Ye’ll learn soon enough, me Lady . They’ve nae had a maither touch in years, poor dears. They’re starved for gentleness, I think.” Her tone grew quieter, reverent almost. “Their maither was a fine woman. Lady McCallum, rest her soul.”
Isabelle slowed her steps, curiosity and sorrow mingling. “What happened to her?” she asked gently.
Sarah’s smile faded, replaced by a somber expression.
“Twas a carriage accident, me Lady ,” she said in a low voice.
“They were comin’ back from visitin’ kin on the mainland when the bridge gave way in a storm.
The Lady was inside the coach when it fell.
The girls, though they were hurt, lived. But their maither she dinnae make it.”
The words settled heavily between them. Isabelle swallowed, her throat tight as she imagined three small girls, her husband’s daughters, watching their world crumble in one awful moment.
“That’s… a cruel fate,” she whispered. “The poor bairns.”
Sarah nodded, eyes glistening faintly. “Aye, the Laird was near mad with grief. The castle’s never been the same since. The girls still speak of their maither often. They used to cry themselves to sleep, though it’s eased some these days.”
Isabelle turned her gaze toward the floor, feeling a deep ache stir in her chest. She’d never known a mother’s love herself, her own mother having died when she was a babe. “I ken what that feels like,” she murmured. “Growin’ up without a maither it leaves a hole that never quite mends.”
Sarah gave her a soft, approving look. “Then ye’ll understand them better than ye think, me Lady . They dinnae need perfection, just someone to love them a bit.”
Isabelle nodded slowly, her resolve firming even as doubt flickered beneath the surface. “I’ll try,” she said quietly. “I cannae promise I’ll be the maither they deserve, but I’ll do me best to be kind.”
Sarah smiled again, her expression full of warmth. “That’s all anyone could ask, me Lady .”
“Me Lady, the Laird’s sister awaits ye in the great hall for to dine with her.” Isabelle’s eyes widened instantly, her heart thudding faster than she’d like to admit.
“His sister?” she repeated, blinking. “I was not aware of one?”
“Aye,” Sarah replied, smoothing out a faint wrinkle on Isabelle’s sleeve. “Lady Mabel lives here in the castle, m e Lady. She’s a nun, but she often helps with the bairns and tends to the household when me Laird ’s away.”
Isabelle swallowed, feeling her throat tighten. “A nun?” she murmured, both surprised and anxious. “Then she must be… kind, I hope?”
Sarah smiled faintly, a reassuring expression in her brown eyes. “Aye, she’s kind-hearted but sharp as a blade when she needs to be. Ye’ve naught to fear, me Lady . Lady Mabel has a soft heart for anyone who treats the wee ones well.”
Isabelle gave a nervous laugh. “Well, then I best prove I’m worthy of that soft heart.”
Declan’s sister. The thought made her pulse race.
What if Mabel disapproved of her? Surely, she must have expected Rosaline, beautiful, confident Rosaline, to become Declan’s wife.
Isabelle felt small by comparison, a woman caught up in a whirlwind of circumstance.
Still, as her shoes clicked against the stone floors, she drew in a deep breath and resolved quietly to herself, she would be the best wife she could and above all, a mother to the children who had lost theirs.
They reached the great hall. The rib-caged ceiling arched high like the hull of a ship turned upside down, iron chandeliers hanging down like clusters of stars. The long wooden tables gleamed under the soft light, already set with fresh bread, cheese, and steaming tea.
As Isabelle turned, four pairs of eyes turned toward her. Three small ones, curious, wide, and watchful, and one calm and knowing.
The young woman rose from her chair and smiled warmly. Her habit was dark gray, her veil simple, yet her eyes sparkled with lively intelligence.
“Ye must be Isabelle,” she said in a lilting voice. “I’m Mabel, Declan’s sister. Welcome to Castle McCallum, m e Lady.”
Isabelle felt her heart unclench slightly at the woman’s kindness. “It’s an honor to meet ye,” she replied softly, stepping forward to accept the hug Mabel offered. The warmth of it surprised her, gentle yet firm, as if Mabel already accepted her without question.
Mabel drew back with a bright grin. “Ye must be starving. Come, sit with us.”
As Isabelle took her seat, three identical little girls stared at her with matching blue eyes and soft brown curls. “This is Penelope, Hallie, and Beth,” Mabel said proudly. “Triplets, seven years old this past spring.”
Penelope smiled shyly, Hallie waved enthusiastically, and Beth gave a tiny nod before returning to her porridge. Isabelle’s lips curved into a genuine smile. “They’re lovely,” she said softly. “Truly lovely.”
Mabel chuckled. “Lovely when they arenae covered in mud or chasing each other through the corridors,” she said, making the girls giggle. “They’ve spirit, just like their faither.”
The servants moved quietly, their soft steps echoing against the stone floors as they set platters upon the long oak table. Steam curled from trenchers of barley broth rich with turnip and onion while roasted fish, oat bannocks, and wedges of soft cheese followed.
A silver pot of heather honey gleamed beside bowls of berries and cream, the simple fare carrying a warmth that felt almost homely.
As Isabelle and Mabel dined, sipping their tea brewed strong with mint and sweet herbs, the scent of hearth smoke and baked oats lingered in the air, wrapping the moment in a rare, comforting peace. The children running amok darted to the table for a berry or bannock every now and then.
"Tell me of yer family and life at Castle Ross?"
Isabelle answered carefully, avoiding mention of her father and focusing instead on her sister Norah.
“Norah’s me sister and also me closest friend all me life,” Isabelle said, her eyes softening. “She married and has two fine lads. I miss them something fierce.”
Mabel’s eyes brightened. “Two nephews, ye say?”
“Aye,” Isabelle said, smiling as she saw the girls’ faces light up. “Perhaps I’ll ask if they might visit for Yule. It’d be grand for them all to meet.”
The girls gasped in excitement, Hallie clapping her hands together. “Ye mean we’d have other bairns to play with?” she exclaimed.
“Aye,” Isabelle said warmly. “If yer faither allows it.”
Mabel’s smile faltered a touch, and she waited until the nanny, Bren, entered to gather the children. “Girls,” she said softly, “run along now; ye’ve lessons to get to.”
Once the children were gone, the hall fell quiet save for the crackling fire. Mabel’s tone shifted slightly, more cautious now.
“Ye should ken, me Lady … Declan hasnae allowed Yule celebrations these past two years.”
Isabelle blinked in surprise. “He hasnae? Why?”
Mabel sighed, her hands folding neatly on the table. “I dinnae ken. The whole castle’s been somber during the season. I dinnae think he’ll change his mind easily.”
Isabelle’s brows furrowed in determination. “Then I shall talk to him when he returns,” she said gently but firmly. “The children deserve some joy. Surely he’ll see that.”
Mabel smiled faintly though her eyes were touched with sadness. “Perhaps, he will, but he’s stubborn as a mule, that one. When he’s set in his ways, it takes more than charm to move him.”
“Then I’ll use more than charm,” Isabelle said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll use reason… and perhaps, a bit of kindness.”
Mabel chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “Ye might be the first to manage both with him. But dinnae get yer hopes too high, me Lady . His inspections run long. Sometimes he’s gone a day or two before returning.”
“Then I’ll wait,” Isabelle said, glancing toward the window where the light danced over the loch outside.
“And in the meantime, I’ll get to know the children. They deserve a maither figure who cares for them.”
Mabel studied her for a long moment then nodded approvingly. “Aye, ye’ve a good heart, Isabelle. I see now why fate brought ye here instead of Rosaline.”
Isabelle’s eyes softened, though a flicker of sadness crossed her face. “Perhaps fate knows what it’s doing better than I do,” she said quietly.
Mabel smiled, rising from her chair. “Aye, lass. It usually does.”
As Isabelle sat there, watching the sunlight glimmer through the stained glass and hearing the distant laughter of the triplets echo down the hall, she felt, for the first time since arriving, a sense of belonging begin to take root in her heart.