Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Declan?”
Isabelle stirred, her hand reaching instinctively toward the empty space beside her. Cold sheets met her touch. Declan had not returned. A sharp pang tightened her chest, and for a moment she sat there, staring at the silent door, anger simmering beneath the hurt.
“Fine,” she muttered under her breath, tossing back the blankets and swinging her feet to the floor.
“Let him rot in his precious stone room then.” She dressed swiftly, forcing her thoughts away from her husband. If Declan wished distance, then she’d find comfort elsewhere, namely, in the joy of three little girls who never failed to brighten her mood.
When Isabelle entered the nursery, the room came alive with laughter and the patter of small feet.
“Lady Isabelle!” Hallie cried, running forward with her sisters tumbling close behind.
Beth clung to her skirts while Penelope waved a sprig of holly she had found somewhere.
“Ye came early today!” Hallie said breathlessly, her curls bouncing as she looked up.
“Aye, I did,” Isabelle said warmly, bending down to gather them in her arms. “Couldnae stay away from me three wee whirlwinds.” She smiled as the girls giggled and crowded around her. “Now, what are ye up to this morning?”
“We’re gonna be makin’ Yule vines today!” Beth declared proudly, holding up a length of twine she had pilfered from the nursemaid’s mending basket. “Ye promised we could, remember?”
“Aye, I did,” Isabelle said with a nod, her smile deepening. “And I always keep me promises.”
She turned to the nursemaid standing by the window. “Bren, dress the lassies warm. We’ll be gathering the holly and vines ourselves this morn.”
Bren curtsied obediently. “At once, me Lady .”
The triplets squealed in delight and scattered across the room, rummaging through chests for their mittens and scarves.
Isabelle’s heart softened as she watched them, their chatter and laughter filling the air like music.
For a brief, blissful moment, she forgot about Declan entirely.
The sight of the children’s unbridled joy made her chest ache in the sweetest way.
Just then, a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Good morn to ye all. What’s this commotion I hear from halfway down the hall?”
Isabelle turned to see Mabel entering, her dark wool gown trailing behind her, a soft smile on her face.
“We’re going out to gather vines and holly for Yule decorations,” Isabelle said. “Would ye like to come with us?”
Mabel’s eyes brightened with quiet delight. “I’d be honored, truly.” She stepped closer, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Though I must say, ye’ve got quite the spirited little troop on yer hands.”
“Aye, they keep me on me toes,” Isabelle said with a laugh as Hallie tried to tug on her boots without sitting down. “We’ll be done in a moment, Mabel. Bren’s dressing them warm for the cold.”
Mabel nodded approvingly. “Ye’re a kind soul, Isabelle. It means more than ye ken, what ye’re doing for the bairns. They’ve been… quieter these past years until ye came.”
The words struck Isabelle’s heart with a soft, tender ache. She lowered her gaze, smiling faintly.
“They’ve brought as much joy to me as I have to them, I think.” Her voice lowered a touch. “It feels good to have a purpose again.”
Mabel tilted her head slightly, her eyes gentle. “Declan may not say it aloud, but he sees what ye’re doing, lass. Ye’re healing more than the girls, ye ken.”
Isabelle’s chest tightened at the mention of Declan’s name. “If only he’d let me see that,” she murmured. Then, forcing a bright tone, she said, “Enough of that talk. Let’s fetch our cloaks before the bairns lose patience.”
Mabel chuckled softly. “Aye.” She turned toward the door, her steps light. “I’ll fetch me own cloak and meet ye all in the courtyard. Isabelle, dinnae leave without me.”
“We’ll wait for ye,” Isabelle promised with a nod.
As Mabel left, Isabelle turned back to the girls, who were now bundled in mismatched mittens and scarves, their cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Right, me bonnie lassies,” she said with mock sternness. “Are ye ready for an adventure?”
“Aye!” they chorused, nearly tripping over one another in their enthusiasm.
“Then off we go,” Isabelle said, her heart swelling as she took their tiny hands in hers.
She felt a flicker of peace settle within her. Perhaps Declan could keep to his stone room and his stubborn silence for now; she had warmth enough in her day without him.
The air outside bit at Isabelle’s cheeks as she stepped into the courtyard with two baskets in hand, her breath rising in small clouds before her. The triplets skipped ahead with Bren close behind, trying to keep them from tumbling into the snow.
Mabel stood near the gate, her own cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders, her face bright with the crisp morning. Isabelle smiled as she approached.
“Mabel,” Isabelle greeted, her voice carrying warmth despite the cold, “ye’re brave to face the chill with us today.”
Mabel chuckled softly. “Och, it’s nae so bad. I’ll take the winter air o’er the draughts of the abbey any day. Besides, I couldnae let ye venture out with these wee lassies alone; they’d have ye knee-deep in snow before long.”
Isabelle laughed. “Aye, that they would. They’ve much mischief, these three.”
The triplets, hearing their names mentioned, turned toward them with beaming smiles.
Hallie lifted a stick like a sword. “We’re goin’ to find the prettiest vines in all of Scotland!” she declared.
Beth clapped her hands. “An’ the shiniest holly with berries bright as rubies!”
Penelope twirled in the snow, her braid swinging. “What’s Yule, Auntie Mabel? Da never tells us.”
Mabel smiled, her breath misting as she bent to their height. “Ah, Yule, me bonnie bairns, is a time of light an’ warmth when the days are darkest.
“Long ago, folk would burn the Yule log to chase away the shadows of winter. It’s a time for songs, for kindness, for rememberin’ that even in the cold, there’s love burnin’ bright.”
She reached out to brush snow from Penelope’s hood. “We bring the holly an’ the vines to remind us that life still grows, even when the world seems asleep.”
Hallie’s eyes widened. “So, the holly’s magic?”
“Aye,” Mabel said softly. “Magic of hope, lass. The same kind that keeps the hearth warm an’ hearts soft.”
Isabelle felt her chest tighten with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. Watching Mabel with the girls stirred something deep in her, a yearning for belonging she hadn’t realized she craved.
They walked beyond the castle walls, boots crunching over the frosted earth. The woods ahead glittered faintly with ice, branches draped in white like spun lace.
The triplets darted ahead, Bren trailing behind carrying baskets with a patient sigh as she tried to keep up. Isabelle and Mabel followed more slowly, their skirts brushing snow from low branches.
“They’ve taken quite the liking to ye,” Mabel remarked with a smile. “Ye’ve brought light back into this place, Isabelle. They needed that.”
Isabelle ducked her head under a low branch, her cheeks warming despite the cold.
“Och, it’s kind of ye to say, but I think it’s they who bring light to me. I havenae felt so much laughter in… well, in a long while.”
Mabel glanced at her sideways. “Aye. Declan’s been different too, ye ken. There’s softness where there was once only stone.”
Isabelle hesitated, brushing her glove against a holly branch heavy with red berries.
“He keeps to himself still,” she murmured. “Sleeps in the Stone Hearth room as though he cannae bear to share a bed with me. I dinnae ken what to make of it.”
Mabel’s tone was gentle. “Give him time, lass. He’s carried sorrow longer than most men live. But ye, ye’re chippin’ away at that wall of his, bit by bit.”
Isabelle smiled faintly, though her heart felt heavy. “I hope ye’re right.”
The girls’ laughter broke the quiet as Hallie called out, “Look! I found the best vines!”
They ran ahead to a patch of evergreen that had survived the frost, tangled in loops that trailed like ribbons.
Isabelle joined them, kneeling in the snow to help them cut the vines free.
Beth proudly held up her bundle. “These’ll make grand wreaths, won’t they, Lady Isabelle?”
“Aye, they will,” Isabelle said, her voice soft with affection. “We’ll twine them with holly berries an’ hang them by every hearth in the keep.”
Penelope’s small hand slipped into hers. “Will Da like it?” she asked earnestly.
Isabelle felt her heart twist. “Aye, sweetheart, I think he will. He needs somethin’ bright to look at these days.”
“Ye care for him deeply, dinnae ye?” Mabel whispered to her.
Isabelle met her gaze and gave a small nod. “More than I ought, perhaps.”
The women shared a quiet look before turning their attention back to the girls. Hallie was struggling with a particularly stubborn vine, tugging so hard she nearly toppled backward.
Isabelle laughed, steadying her by the shoulders. “Easy there, warrior lass! We dinnae need to battle the forest.”
Hallie giggled. “But it’s hidin’ the prettiest vines!”
“Then we’ll coax them out gently,” Isabelle said, brushing a stray curl from the girl’s face.
By midday, their baskets were full of greenery, their cheeks flushed from the cold.
Mabel lifted her face toward the pale sun. “It’s good to hear laughter again,” she murmured. “For too long, this place has been filled with silence.”
“Aye,” Isabelle agreed softly. “But the bairns, they chase away the shadows. An’ maybe… maybe I can too.”
Mabel placed a gloved hand on her arm. “Ye already have, lass. Ye’ve brought life where there was none.”
As they turned back toward the castle, the triplets marched ahead proudly, carrying their bundles as though they bore treasure.
Isabelle watched them with a tender smile, her heart lighter than it had been in days. Isabelle felt warmth spread through her chest, a fragile hope flickering to life like the promise of Yule itself.