Chapter 17 #2
She found the cook in the kitchen, as was expected, and just like the rest of the castle, Morag was in a state of despondency, very much unlike her.
“Ah, Nessa …” She forced a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I was wondering if I would see you today. Truth is that I was hoping I would.”
“Oh?” Nessa sat down at the counter.
Morag let her shoulders slump as she sat beside her.
“I know you think of me as a ray of constant sunshine about these dim halls, but today I just cannot find the enthusiasm. What happened to Lady Thornwyck …” Morag sighed, and her shoulders slumped further.
“It is heartbreaking. And to imagine her on the boat, alone and scared …” She sniffed.
Nessa wrapped an arm around her friend. “It is terrible, Morag. You are right to feel this way.”
“I envy you, Nessa. That you did not know her personally. It allows you to escape the gloom that this news has brought.”
“If only that were true,” Nessa sighed. “I have just come from speaking with Lord Thornwyck, and he is as broken as I have ever seen him. It breaks my heart, Morag.”
Morag nodded. “I am not surprised. Can you possibly imagine what he must be going through?”
“I cannot,” she said. “Which is why I came to see you. I tried to speak with him, but I fear it did little. He needs a friend, someone who knows his suffering and can understand how to help with it.”
“Like whom?”
“Mr. Loxley,” Nessa said. “I think it is prudent that I write to him and ask that he return. For all I know, he has not even heard of what has happened. He should be here for Lord Thornwyck.”
Morag pulled back and looked at Nessa. “You really care for Lord Thornwyck that much?”
“I do,” Nessa said, refusing to shy away. “And he needs this, Morag. I know it will help.”
Morag eyed Nessa for a moment longer, and Nessa stayed herself. Perhaps it was foolish to announce herself like this and demonstrate just how much she cared about Lord Thornwyck when someone in her position ought not to have done.
But I do care. Is that so wrong?
“What do you need?” Morag asked.
Nessa smiled. “You are on better terms with the stablehands than I. If I write this letter, I ask that you deliver it to them in secret. I would prefer it not be known that I wrote this letter, especially by Lady Verity.”
“Yes,” Morag agreed. “That is prudent. No need to give her another reason to think ill of you.”
“Speaking of Lady Verity,” Nessa began as she lowered her voice and glanced around the kitchen. “I saw a most peculiar thing two nights ago.”
“Oh?”
“It was …” Nessa clicked her tongue. “I saw Lady Verity with Lord Crispin. I could not hear what was being said, but it looked as if Lady Verity was pleading with him.”
“Pleading how?”
“That she was …” Nessa considered how to word her thoughts, not wanting to throw about accusations and false rumor without proof. “She was upset. She clutched his face, and when he turned away, she clutched her chest as if he had …” She bit her lower lip. “It looked as if he was denying her.”
“Denying her what?”
Nessa raised an eyebrow in answer.
Morag’s eyes widened. “No!”
“Again, I did not hear what was being said,” Nessa hurried. “And for all I know, they were speaking of something else entirely. But it was strange, Morag, and I have never seen Lady Verity so upset. Truly, she looked heartbroken.”
“And Lord Crispin?”
“I did not see his face,” Nessa admitted. “But he did not appear particularly comforting.”
Morag’s brow furrowed as she considered. “It is strange, I will grant you. But it might also be nothing. Do you want my advice?”
“That is all I want.”
“Say nothing,” Morag said with sudden firmness. “With all that has happened here of late, there is no sense in searching for drama that might be well beyond our understanding. Let it lie until you are sure.”
Nessa’s thoughts flashed back to what she had seen that night, the heartbreak on Lady Verity’s face, the sense that her world was ending and that Lord Crispin did not care one little bit.
Could it truly have been nothing? What else might have caused Lady Verity to act that way …
“Now, about this letter.” Morag straightened up. “How long do you need to write it?”
Nessa spent the next ten minutes penning the letter to send to Mr. Loxley. She kept it vague and simple, merely asking that he would come to see his friend, without stating the reason. She did not know if Mr. Loxley knew of what happened, and she did not think it was her place to tell him.
All she wanted, the only thing, was to help Lord Thornwyck.
Once that was done, and the letter was sent, Nessa returned to her room.
She trudged toward the bed, her body and mind both equally worn. It had been an emotional day, and such an outpouring of emotions threatened to dredge up those that she had kept hidden these past few weeks.
Lord Thornwyck had mentioned secrets, those that concerned Lady Thornwyck’s death. But Nessa had secrets of her own …
Without realizing what she was doing, she went to her wardrobe and retrieved the hidden locket from its box. She sat on the floor with her back against the bed, pried it open, and found her attention fixed on the small portrait of Lady Thornwyck, her sister.
Nessa knew in her heart that this woman was her sister. She did not have proof. She might never know for sure. But as she looked at that photo, she felt that kinship as if the portrait was smiling up at her and admitting the truth for her to hear.
It hit Nessa suddenly. While she had not known Lady Thornwyck, and while she never would, the tragedy of her death washed over her like a fierce wave, and tears began to well in her eyes. They dripped down and smeared the small portrait, which had Nessa wiping them away –
She carefully placed the locket back in its box and then spotted something concealed at the bottom that she’d hitherto missed.
Placing her hand inside the box, she unfolded a letter.
“What on earth …” Nessa read through, her hands beginning to shake, and the farther she got, the more her heart raced.
.