Chapter 25
Nessa crept through Thornwyck Hall like a mouse desperate to avoid the searching eyes of the cat who stalked it. She kept to the walls, peered around corners before taking them, and each step was trodden carefully.
She walked with such care because she did not wish to accidentally run into someone to whom she had no desire to speak. In this instance, such a thing might apply to almost everyone who lived within Thornwyck Hall’s stone walls.
For obvious reasons, Lord Crispin was one whom she did not want to see. The last time they had spoken, he threatened her, attacked her, and it was only thanks to Muirne that she had escaped him.
Lady Verity was another whom she knew better than to confront.
The crazed woman had accused her of pushing her from the window – worse than that, she had lied about the confrontation that led to her fall.
The woman was clearly losing her mind, but Nessa knew that such accusations were made with the express aim of ruining her life.
Finally, there was Lord Thornwyck, and despite how much Nessa wanted to speak to him and explain herself properly, she just as much wanted to avoid him – she worried that if she saw him, she would only make things worse.
With all that in mind, there was but one place where Nessa felt safe to go, and one person who she felt safe to speak with. It might do her no good, but she needed to know that she had not made a horrible mistake. More than that, she needed to be reminded that she was not completely alone.
So Nessa crept into the kitchen, arriving with the rising sun, bringing with her dread and sorrow so that the warmth of that sun was cold on her skin and in the room both.
“Oh, Nessa!” Morag was on her immediately. She wrapped her arms around Nessa’s body, pulling her in tight, and holding her as if she was all who mattered in the world. “I have been so worried about you.”
That single hug ought to have brought Nessa comfort. She needed it like a flower needed the sun. But with how afraid Nessa felt, how utterly lost, it did little to pull her from her sadness.
“Thank you, Morag.” Nessa offered a weak smile. “At least someone is.”
“I meant to come and see you,” Morag said as she released her. “I wanted to! But I was worried that …” She grimaced with shame. “Oh, I should not let what people are saying dictate my actions. My friend needed me, and I ought to have been there for her. I am so sorry, Nessa.”
“You have no reason to apologize, Morag. Truly. That you even thought to come and see me means so much.”
Morag’s shoulders fell. “No doubt you have heard what people are saying? They claim that you …” Her brow furrowed with worry. “Lady Verity says that you pushed her from the window.”
“I know it.”
“Absurd, I know,” Morag hurried. “I know that you never would.” Despite her claim, Morag looked at Nessa for an answer.
“It is a long story, Morag.” Slowly, Nessa sat at the counter, her body as tired as her mind. It was all too much, and every breath that Nessa took was a struggle.
“Tell me,” Morag said. “What happened yesterday?”
Of course, Nessa told Morag everything. She was the one person who knew the truth of Nessa’s past, and where speaking the truth would solve nothing, Nessa needed it off her chest if for no other reason than to confirm that she had done the right thing.
“I wanted to tell Lord Thornwyck,” she explained when she reached what had happened the previous evening. “He came to me, Morag. He gave me a chance to tell him everything and I … I could not do it.”
“But why?” Morag held Nessa’s hand tight as she looked pleadingly at her. “Why not tell him? If it clears your name and confirms Lady Verity as a liar, then you must speak the truth.”
Nessa had considered that very thing.
Telling Lord Thornwyck the truth had been on the tip of her tongue, desperate to be spoken – to be screamed so that the truth would finally be out there.
For too long, Nessa had lied to the one person she truly cared about, and all she wanted was for him to know who she was so that the weight that sat on her shoulders might fall.
Sadly, and most frustratingly, it was nowhere near that simple.
“And then what?” Nessa said sadly. “I have been lying to Lord Thornwyck for too long, and if I told him the truth of it, he would have no reason to believe it.”
“But he would believe it,” Morag insisted. “There is no reason for you to make such a thing up.”
“Which might be worse,” Nessa pleaded. “I do not have proof – not really. A letter from Lady Honora, and a picture. It is not enough.”
“It is enough,” Morag pushed.
“No, it is not,” Nessa sighed. “What is more, he is likely then to wonder why I am revealing this to him now? What it is that I want. Lady Verity already thinks the worst of me, and when she learns of the truth, she will assume that I am …” She grimaced, and her stomach turned.
“She will assume that I am using this to try and manipulate or to take that which is not mine. To speak the truth without proof would be to confirm what Lady Verity says of me. No.” She shook her head.
“I cannot tell him. And even if I wanted to, after yesterday, it is too late.”
“It was that bad?”
“It was worse than bad.” Nessa’s chest tightened with the memory. “The way he looked at me … I have never seen such distrust and hurt, Morag. In his mind, I have either lied to him or betrayed him. He has no reason to believe anything I say.”
Morag did not speak right away.
She dropped Nessa’s hand, and her expression tightened as she looked down at her lap in thought.
Nessa let her sit with whatever was on her mind.
She had come to Morag searching for comfort, but she felt worse than she had before stepping into the kitchen.
Not Morag’s fault, of course, but as Nessa spoke the truth, the reality of her situation was seen afresh and was more devastating because of it.
Worse still, it was all Nessa’s fault.
When she had first suspected who she might be, she should have told Lord Thornwyck everything. She saw him as someone whom she could trust – who she knew would want to help her. If she had just told him then … but it is too late now; I have ruined everything.
“Perhaps I should just go,” Nessa said as another thought came to mind. It was one that she had wrestled with all night, and where she had tried to fight it, to act as if it was not her last hope, she slowly came to accept that it was all she had left.
“What?” Morag snapped her head up.
“I should go,” Nessa said. “I should leave Thornwyck Hall. There is nothing here for me.”
“But you cannot do that!” Morag cried. “If you are who you say, you belong here, Nessa. Lady Honora knew it to be true, and it would be a stain on her memory to run.”
“What other choice do I have?” Nessa said sadly. “I have burned all my bridges, Morag. Whatever the truth might be, no one will believe it. If I leave, it will save everyone. And let us be honest, I never belonged here anyway.”
“You do not believe that.”
“I do,” Nessa said with finality. “I tried to ignore it; I tried to deny it, but it is the truth. For once, I do not need proof to know it as such.”
Morag shook her head, her expression suddenly severe and determined. “What if there is a way to find proof?”
“But there is not.”
“Maybe …” Morag pushed her tongue into her cheek. “But what if there was? You said that Lord Crispin has proof? He told you as much?”
“He did,” Nessa said. “Apparently, my sister …” A smile touched her lips at that word. “She had proof, of a sort. Enough that Lord Crispin figured out who I was. But he did not say what it was.”
“But it does exist.” Morag started to nod along as if a plan was coming to mind. “Let us think about this. If he has proof, he must be keeping it somewhere – likely not on the estate, for fear that it might be uncovered. No, if he has it, it is hidden.”
“And what good does that do?”
Morag produced a knowing grin. “I did not consider what it meant earlier, but with all that you have told me, this might not be the hopeless situation you have made it out to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“Last evening, I decided to take Muirne for a walk,” she began, excitement heard in her voice. “We found ourselves by the lake, heading east along its bank. And as we walked, I could not help noticing Lord Crispin hurrying back toward the castle.”
“And this means what, exactly?”
“He was coming from the lake,” Morag explained. “And as he hurried, he looked over his shoulder as if to make sure that he was not followed. The only reason he did not see me was because of how dark it was … and that I made sure to hide.”
“Are you saying he buried this proof somewhere by the lake?”
“No.” Morag shook her head. “I know this area well by now – the amount of walks I have been on with Muirne has made it so I am quite acquainted with the lake. And if I do not miss my guess, Lord Crispin was coming back from the caves.”
“Caves?”
“When the tide is right, there is a small cave hidden by the lakeside. It is all rocks and a messy shoreline there, a steep climb down a cliffside that is quite treacherous. I have only been there once myself, and it is not a journey for the faint of heart.”
“But it is there?” Nessa’s heart started to race as the pieces fell into place. “You are sure of it?”
“Oh, it is there,” Morag said with a grin. “And nobody knows the lake better than Lord Crispin. If he did wish to hide something that was not to be found, that is where he would do it.”
Nessa considered what her friend was saying … as well as what she meant to do about it.
The idea of running did not appeal to Nessa nearly as much as she claimed. Not so long ago, that was not the case, as this castle had always felt strange to her, not somewhere that she belonged or ever would.
That changed of late. Slowly, as she grew closer to Lord Thornwyck, as comfort was found inside these walls, Thornwyck Hall started to feel like a home and a place where she might one day belong.
And oh, how she had cherished that feeling.
What was more, to run would be to leave that feeling behind … it would be to leave Lord Thornwyck behind.
Still, their near kiss sat nestled in her mind.
If there were any doubt about her feelings for Lord Thornwyck, that moment had batted them away so that the truth was undeniable.
She not only cared for Lord Thornwyck, but she also liked him.
She wanted more of what they had, and a chance to see it grow.
As that truth settled, Nessa knew what she had to do. The only thing.
“Morag.” Nessa looked firmly at her friend as she pushed back the doubt that raged inside her. “What time is the tide?”
***
“… it was not my fault, Alaric! None of this was supposed to happen! You must believe me!”
Nessa came to a stop, her breath caught in her throat, her heart thundering in her chest so that she was certain its thump could be heard. She stood by the corner of the empty corridor, not daring to take another step.
“Aisling knew what she was doing. That is not saying that I blame her – or maybe I do. I do not know! But Crispin is innocent, and none of this would have happened if you had not been so blind!”
It was Lady Verity whom Nessa heard.
The hysterical woman spoke quickly, her voice a whisper, but loud enough that it carried down the hallway. And when Nessa dared to peek around the corner, certain that she would see both Lady Verity and Lord Thornwyck in rushed conversation, she gasped in surprise and in fright.
Lady Verity was alone.
The crazed woman paced up and down the corridor, fidgeting nervously with her hands, speaking to herself as if she were conversing with her brother.
“I did not want to blame the housekeeper, truly. But I was left with no choice. It was the only way to save Crispin. You must believe me!”
Nessa listened closely, her head peeking around the corner, careful not to be seen and just as desperate not to miss a word said. She did not understand what she was hearing but knew it to be vital.
“But we will get through this, Alaric. What happened to Aisling was a tragedy, and I did not want it. Clearly, Crispin did not either. He would never have hurt her. But you must understand – no!” Lady Verity came to a stop and shook her head.
“Do not blame Aisling, either …” She spoke as if to herself next.
“The housekeeper, she is to blame. Yes. And you must make Alaric see this. It is the only way.”
Nessa gasped, and just as Lady Verity looked up, she ducked back behind the corner, pushed herself against the wall, and held her breath.
Then she listened.
Lady Verity’s ramblings stopped dead. Her footsteps fell quiet. And Nessa listened closely, certain that soon she would be sprung, and from that, all hell would break loose.
What did I just hear? Even if she accuses me of spying, it is not as if I understand what I was spying on.
That did not remove the feeling of suspicion that lurked thickly within that corridor.
Nessa knew that Lady Verity was blaming her for the fall from the window – as she had blamed her for all her other woes.
Now, it seemed, there was a reason for it.
She needed Lord Thornwyck to blame Nessa so that he would ignore the truth of … of something! Nessa had no idea.
Breath still held, body trembling, Nessa dared to peek around the corner again. It stood empty, Lady Verity nowhere in sight, and Nessa exhaled and almost fell to her knees with relief.
A part of her thought to go to Lord Thornwyck then and there and tell him what she had heard. But such thoughts died quickly, because Nessa had only her words with no proof.
Proof … that was what she needed. And not just about this, but everything. She needed that proof so that her lies would be seen as real and so that Lady Verity’s accusations would die like a scream in a storm. It was her only chance to survive this.
With that confirmed, Nessa did as she had been doing before coming upon Lady Verity. She hurried down the corridor, stepped quickly into the servants’ stairwell, and took it to the back garden of the estate.
Lord Thornwyck had warned her not to leave, but Nessa had no choice but to ignore that warning. She hated disobeying him, but such times called for it.
It was dangerous. There were infinite chances for things to go wrong. But most of all, and this was what kept her going as she crossed the back garden, hurried down the side of the estate, and headed for the lake, it was her only choice.