Chapter 3 #2
Thankfully, Morag was alone in the kitchen …
no, not alone. Nessa thought she was at first, only to spy an English Foxhound curled up at her feet.
It was brown and white in color, had the floppiest ears that Nessa had ever seen, and as soon as she sat down, it popped its head up, looked at her with curiosity, and scrambled to Nessa’s feet.
“Oh. Who is this?” Nessa laughed as the dog licked her ankles and jumped on its back feet as if trying to climb onto her lap.
“That is Muirne,” Morag said, laughing at the way its tongue hung out as it accepted pats from Nessa. “And I think she likes you.”
“At least somebody does,” Nessa sighed. She stroked the dog’s head, and she felt an immediate kinship with the animal. Again, it just felt nice to be noticed and loved like that.
“Today was that bad, huh?” Morag asked.
Nessa sighed, and her shoulders dropped. “It will improve, I am sure. Although perhaps that is damning with faint praise, for it cannot possibly get any worse.”
Morag pulled up a stool beside her. “It will, Nessa. Moving to a new home can be hard at first, but give it time.”
“It is not just the home …” She looked around the large kitchen. “It is this place – this country. I might have spent the last year living in the south, but I was raised in Ireland, and this is certainly not that. It is …” She clicked her tongue. “Different.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I am yet to decide,” she said with a soft smile. “But you are right, it has been just one day. I am sure it will improve …” She scratched behind Muirne’s ears.
“I have worked my share of estates,” Morag said.
“And I can promise you, this is as good as it gets. Lord Thornwyck is kind and fair. Far more than he ought to be, with all that has happened to him.” Morag winced.
“I had been here for six months when it happened, and I tell you this …” She shook her head.
“You think times are dreary now? This is nothing compared to then.”
Nessa looked up. “You are speaking of Lady Thornwyck –” She caught her tongue, glanced around the kitchen to make sure they were alone, and dropped her voice. “You are speaking of her death?”
“Aye,” Morag said sadly. “It came from nowhere, too. One day, she was here, and the next …” She shrugged. “Drowned, if you believe it.”
Nessa felt pain in her heart. “I cannot imagine. Lord Thornwyck must have been devastated.”
“He was,” Morag said. “As was his sister. Lord Crispin, too … it affected everyone. And now with Lady Honora passing as she did, it is a wonder there is a smile to be found anywhere.” Morag then smiled. “Which is what I am here for, I guess.”
Nessa felt immediate guilt.
She had been so quick to rise to anger and annoyance over how Lord Thornwyck had treated her, while ignoring the very real fact that he was a man in mourning. Of course she was not on his mind, and of course he had other things to concern himself with.
I ought to remember that I am not the only one here who is lost …
Realizing that, Nessa decided not to judge so quickly. He was helping her, after all, even if he insisted it was because of Lady Honora. She owed him, and she needed to do better.
“And I thank you for it,” Nessa said to Morag. “I could use a reason to smile. Is that not right?” she added as she scratched Muirne’s ear. “You have every reason to smile, as you should do.”
“I think you have made a friend.” Morag chuckled.
“No,” Nessa said. “I have made two.”
She spent another thirty minutes in the kitchen, during which time Morag made her some food, and they ate together. Once she was done, Nessa made her way through the castle and back toward her room.
The castle was still strange to Nessa, and nothing like Lady Honora’s home in the south.
That was a more modern dwelling; a typical estate house as was common in those parts.
Thornwyck Hall was a castle. Built of gray stone, so vast in its proportions that it felt empty no matter how many people were about, and always so cold.
She shivered as she walked the spacious hallways, and it was only because Muirne had insisted on following her that Nessa felt any warmth or comfort at all.
Nessa’s room was a small private bedroom. It was nothing more than four walls, a single bed, and a wardrobe. But it was hers, and she was grateful for it.
As she entered the room and closed the door, with Muirne at her heels, her eyes fell on her trunk by the end of the bed. With all that had happened, she was yet to unpack, so she decided that now was as good a time as any.
I doubt I will be going anywhere for a while …
Nessa fell to her knees and opened the trunk. Mostly, it was filled with clothes, and she started stacking them along her bed with strict precision, as that was her way. That was until her hands hit something solid at the very bottom of the trunk.
“What is this …”
Her brow furrowed as she pulled out a small box roughly the size of a book. She had never seen it before, and she certainly hadn’t packed it. Nessa looked around as if expecting someone to appear and announce to her what she had found.
Her heart raced as she opened the box, at which point a smile touched her lips. Inside the box, sitting alone, was a small locket, plain in color and design, with a single piece of parchment beside it.
She opened the locket first, and her smile grew.
On each side of the locket was a small portrait, finely painted, but startlingly lifelike and vivid. One was of a woman with flaming red hair, green eyes, and freckles. Nessa knew it to be her, and this was confirmed when she noticed her name written underneath.
The second portrait was of a woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and sharp features; her nose, in particular, stood out. And as had been the case with her portrait, this had a name written underneath: Aisling.
Nessa studied the two portraits, her curiosity piqued.
If this is me, then who is the other woman … this Aisling?
Her answer was found written on the piece of parchment. It featured just a single word, scribbled in Lady Honora’s hand, and while it answered the question, it raised a whole host of other ones that had Nessa’s head ringing.
‘Sisters’
That was all that was written.
She read that single word a dozen times and flipped the parchment over, hoping to find more. Her eyes switched between the parchment and the two portraits, her heart thumping as her mind raced, a burning curiosity bubbling away and set to explode.
She did not doubt that Lady Honora had left her this locket. Likely, Nessa was not supposed to have found it so soon – perhaps Lady Honora had intended to gift it to her. As for the piece of parchment, was there supposed to be more to it? Was it some sort of clue? Nessa had no idea!
She looked between the two portraits, and she knew one thing to be certain: Nessa had a sister. A sister she had never known about … one that Lady Honora knew of for some reason … and likely, one she had intended Nessa to meet.
The questions stacked on top of each other. Confusion was left in their wake. And while Nessa might have let that confusion take her, she pushed it aside, choosing to focus on the good that this meant.
She had a sister. She was not alone in this world, and with the locket held to her chest, warmth spread through Nessa’s limbs so that for the first time in days, she did not feel nearly so alone.