Chapter 21
Nessa was in her room, slowly dressing herself for the day ahead, when a knock came on her door. She started in surprise and hurried to fetch a robe to cover herself because she assumed the person who knocked to be … no, surely not. He would not come here?
But was it possible? Had Lord Thornwyck’s thoughts spent the last evening in the same place that Nessa’s had? It appeared so.
“One moment,” she called as she tied her robe at the front.
Next, she checked herself in the mirror, cursing the fact that her hair was a matted mess of curls that needed a good brushing. And her face! She looked a fright, certainly not presentable.
Not that this dissuaded her from answering the door. Not that it tempered the excitement that rose within.
All yesterday, and all of last evening, Nessa had done little but think about what happened by Aisling’s gravestone; confused at first, then unsure, and finally resolved in what she now knew.
Lord Thornwyck had nearly kissed her … as she had nearly kissed him back. And she would have done! Oh, how she wanted to.
For weeks, an undeniable tension had sat between the two of them, bubbling away slowly, rising closer to the surface with each interaction. Nessa had convinced herself it was nothing more than companionship, a closeness found in two souls who had more in common than they first realized.
Now, with that near kiss on her mind, such lies were dismissed and forgotten completely. Nessa knew what she wanted, and that Lord Thornwyck had come to see her so early in the morning suggested he knew the same.
She swept to the door, a smile on her lips and in her eyes, as she threw it open. “Well, this is a –” Her words caught in her throat, and her face dropped. “Morag?”
“What took you so long?” Morag stepped quickly into the room. “I did not wake you?”
Nessa’s stomach sank through the floor. She had been so certain … so sure … of course he has not come to see me! You are a fool, Nessa!
“No, I was just getting dressed.” Nessa closed the door and did her best not to look utterly crestfallen. “What …” She forced a smile. “What is the matter, Morag? Ought you not to be in the kitchen?”
“I had to see you.” Morag sat down on the bed but jumped up immediately. Then she started to pace, filled with excited energy that could not be tamed. “Surely, you have heard what happened? Concerning Lord Crispin?”
Nessa nodded. “I know he was taken by the magistrate for questioning. But I confess, my mind has been elsewhere this last day …”
“Right, of course,” Morag said. “With all that has happened to you, it is no wonder.”
“Happened to me?” Nessa’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“With what you learned of your birth,” Morag said. “That is what you mean, no?”
“Oh, yes.” Nessa laughed awkwardly. “That is exactly what I meant …” It was not, of course, but she was glad that Morag was too distracted to notice her awkwardness. “But what are you saying? What has happened that has you in such a flurry?”
“It has been made official,” Morag said. “Lord Crispin has been charged with the murder of Lady Thornwyck.”
“No!” Nessa gasped. “Are you certain?”
Morag shrugged. “That is what Emily told me – she is the laundress, and she heard it from Tilly, who is a favorite of Lady Verity’s. Apparently, Lord Crispin murdered Lady Thornwyck and then put her in that boat before pushing it out into the lake.”
“That is …” Nessa blinked in confusion. “Why would he do that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Put her in the boat,” Nessa explained as she ran through the situation in her head. “If he did murder her, why go through the effort? He must have known that her body would be found eventually, no? Which would lead back to him.”
“What is your point, Nessa?”
“Just that if it were I who had done it, I would have buried the body or … or taken it somewhere it would not be found. It seems strange, is all.”
“You are focusing on the wrong thing!” Morag cried. “Lord Crispin murdered Lady Thornwyck. What is more …” She trembled as she leaned in and dropped her voice. “It is said that he was having an affair with her.”
Nessa gasped again. “Are you certain?”
“As certain as I can be,” Morag continued.
“Which is likely why he killed her. Perhaps she wanted to end it? Or perhaps she threatened to tell Lord Thornwyck? I still cannot believe it.” Morag exhaled as if to let the air out of her, and this calmed her down considerably.
“All this time, and nobody suspected a thing.”
It was all rather exciting, and terribly sad. Nessa could only imagine how Lord Thornwyck was dealing with this news, and while she desperately wanted to see him, she decided against such a notion.
“Well, that is what I came to tell you,” Morag said. “I had to speak to someone, and I thought you would like to know.”
“And I do appreciate it.”
“Are you coming downstairs to eat?”
Nessa indicated her robe and general state. “What do you think?”
“Good point,” Morag laughed. “I will make sure there is some food left aside for you. But hurry.” Morag took her hands, squeezed them gently, and then left the room.
Nessa took her time getting dressed, her thoughts now firmly fixed on the news she had just heard. She was sad for the death of her half-sister, saddened for the pain that Lord Thornwyck surely felt, and confused by Lord Crispin’s involvement.
She could not say why, but something about it just felt wrong.
Once dressed, she hurried to the kitchen, expecting to eat.
Frustratingly, Morag was nowhere to be found, but Mr. Carrow was.
Nessa started when she came upon him in the kitchen, and she clicked her tongue with annoyance when she saw that stern look in his eyes that told her a task was coming her way.
“Good, you are here.” Mr. Carrow turned and scooped up a metal tray piled with eggs, toast, and various spreads. “Take this to Lady Verity at once and be quick about it.”
“Oh, Mr. Carrow, I will do, but I was hoping to break my fast first.”
Mr. Carrow looked at her as if he was having a heart attack. “It was not a request, Miss Kavanagh! I am so sorry that hunger has found you, and oh, how my heart breaks for it. But remind me, is your title Lady Thornwyck? Or perhaps Lady Montfort?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, so you are not a lady of this house?”
“No, that is not what I–”
“Then you will take this tray to Lady Verity at once.” He shoved the tray into her chest, and Nessa had no choice but to accept it.
“And only once Lady Verity has broken her fast, and only once I allow it, will your hunger be sated. Honestly…” He shook his head and stormed away.
“The state of help that I must deal with …” His ramblings continued until he turned the corner.
Nessa curled her lip as Mr. Carrow left the kitchen, and she very nearly considered placing down the tray and satisfying her own hunger before serving Lady Verity. Of course, doing such a thing would be grounds for punishment, and Nessa was not nearly so comfortable that she dared to try.
Without wasting further time, she hurried through the castle and toward the feather room, as that was a mainstay of Lady Verity’s this last week.
She found Lady Verity sitting by the window. She was as still as a portrait, her gaze fixed out the window as if the world was ending and she yearned to watch to ensure that it did. Shoulders slumped, back bent, she had never looked so frail, weak, and lost …
“My Lady,” Nessa announced as she appeared in the doorway. “Might I come in?”
Lady Verity turned, saw Nessa standing there with a tray, and sneered before turning back. “Enter. But be quick about it. Do not dally.”
Nessa did as she was commanded, hurrying to the table in the center of the room and placing down the tray of breakfast stuff before straightening.
“Will there be anything else that you need?” she asked next.
Lady Verity sighed as she continued to gaze out the window. “So many things …”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, girl,” Lady Verity said. “I was merely … it does not matter. You are dismissed.”
She should have just walked away. Lady Verity was not her friend.
Worse than that, Nessa was aware of how she was loathed.
But she heard the aching sadness in the woman’s voice; she saw not a wrathful enemy but a broken woman who needed help.
Despite that voice screaming in her head to turn and leave, Nessa simply could not do it.
“I am so sorry for what happened, Lady Verity,” Nessa said softly. “Truly, you have my deepest sympathies.”
Lady Verity stiffened. “What did you say?”
“I …” Nessa’s heart started to race. “I only meant that I heard of what happened with Lord Crispin. And I pray that you are well, that the bad news has not brought you too much sadness.”
“Sadness?” The word dripped from her tongue like poison. “What would you know about such a thing?”
“I –”
Lady Verity turned, and her expression was one of wrath. “I do not care how you feel! I do not wish for your sympathies, girl.”
“I did not mean anything by it,” Nessa hurried.
“Do you know what I do wish for!” Verity stood and pointed a finger right at Nessa. “I wish that you had never come into this house! Lord Crispin … Aisling! This is your doing! You … you … you witch!”
Nessa gasped and took a step back.
“Get out,” Lady Verity snarled. “Leave! And not just this room! This home! I want you gone! Go!” she cried and pointed to the door.
Nessa did not need telling twice.
Heart racing, body trembling, she turned and raced from the feather room and down the hall. But she did not return to the kitchen, as her hunger was no longer present. Rather, she ran to her room and slammed the door closed, desperate to feel the safety of her room as if that might save her.
She fell against the wall, still breathing heavily, eyes shut as she tried to remove the image of Lady Verity’s feral snarl from her mind. Not to mention the harsh words that she spoke.