Chapter 18
“Lass?”
Agnes’s eyes fluttered open to Gordon standing at the bedside, worry etched on his brow. She hadn’t meant to drift off, but the fire was so warm, and the bed so comfortable that she supposed her body had simply relented. Anything to quieten her mind.
“What is it?” she asked, wincing as she pushed herself up. “Is something wrong?”
She frowned as she looked around the room. She had forgotten where she was and how she had come to be there.
He carried me. But where is…
“Lizzy? Where is she?”
Gordon offered his hand. “She’s bein’ spoiled by Iona. Daenae fash.”
She eyed his hand and took it hesitantly, allowing him to help her off the bed. Her gaze flitted to the steaming tub by the fireplace, and her body sighed in anticipation, her bones aching where she had been thrown to the ground.
“I didn’t even hear you come in with the buckets,” she murmured.
“I was quiet.”
He ushered her toward the copper tub, draped with cloths so she wouldn’t burn herself on the hot metal.
There, without her asking, he carefully began to undo the buttons that ran down the back of her dress.
She knew she should probably stop him, but how else was she supposed to undress herself?
Her shoulders hurt, Iona was busy, and she had no one else to help. It was either him or no bath at all.
He made quick work of the buttons, and she felt her breath shallow and her heart beat faster as he grasped the fabric and pulled upward.
A soft cry escaped her as her bruised shoulders protested the movement of her arms reaching up, but it was short-lived as he pulled the dress up and over her head.
“Are ye hurt badly?” he asked, his fingertips working at the knot of her stays.
She swallowed thickly. “Not so badly, no. I think I will have a bruise.”
“Where?”
“My shoulders,” she answered. “I hit the ground rather hard.”
He loosened her stays and let the garment drop, leaving just her shift between him and her bare body. His touch eased down the back of her neckline, his fingertips lightly caressing her skin, sending a tingling rush of gooseflesh across it.
“Aye, a bruise is formin’,” he said. “Once ye’re in the tub, I’ll fetch some ointment from Iona.”
And just like that, his touch was gone, his hands grasping her shift instead as he lifted it over her head.
She had thought she would be more embarrassed about her nudity, now that she was standing there without a stitch on. Instead, she felt the strangest urge to turn around, to show him what he had shunned from his tower last night.
“Use me hand to steady yerself,” he said. “I’ll keep me eyes closed.”
She almost laughed at the remark. Steady herself? Did he have any idea what his proximity, what his careful undressing of her, was doing to her? She was not steady at all. Quite the opposite, shaking with a curious mix of shock and desire.
Hoping he wouldn’t be able to feel the tremor in her hand, she took hold of his and allowed him to help her into the soothing water. As she stepped in, she dared to glance back, just to see if his eyes were indeed closed.
To her relief and disappointment, he was being a perfect gentleman.
Not even a glimpse? Is there something the matter with me? Something he finds so repulsive?
She sank down into the water, the fragrant liquid enveloping her, easing all of the aches and pains, some new and some old. If he had not been there, she would have moaned. It felt so good.
“How are ye feelin’?” he asked, stepping back to the edge of the bed, where he perched.
“Fine,” she mumbled, despite her nerves. “Everything is fine. I am well; Lizzy is well. I can manage a bruise or two and some aching limbs as long as she is well.”
And we are safe thanks to you.
“Ye daenae have to do that,” he said.
She frowned, glancing at him. “Do what?”
“Pretend ye’re all right when ye’re nae,” he replied.
“There was a lot of unpleasantness today. Things ye likely havenae seen before. Ye’re at liberty to lower yer guard a little.
Ye can admit that ye got scared. Ye can curse and rant and rage, if that’s what ye want to do.
I willnae mind. In this room, ye can do and say what ye please. ”
She hadn’t realized he could read her so easily.
Was it truly so obvious that she was struggling?
Could he see the great beacon of guilt that pulsed inside her?
Could he see the weight of how foolish she felt?
Could he sense the force of her ever-building troubles, understanding that if she did not release the pressure, she would surely snap?
She tried to smile, but something was broken, her lip trembling, her brow creasing as she tried very hard not to cry. His words had lent her permission she hadn’t known she needed, hadn’t known she needed to hear.
For six months, she had been denied the gift of being allowed to speak her mind, and he had just offered her that blessing. Indeed, he likely had no idea of the floodgates he had just opened by saying, “Go ahead. Say whatever you like, and I’ll listen.”
All of a sudden, she started crying, big wrenching sobs that rippled the surface of the water and shook her aching shoulders.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged in a calm, gentle voice. “Tell me what ails ye.”
“I almost… lost my niece today,” she rasped, her voice shaking.
“And to lose her would have been like losing my sister twice. Lizzy is… all I have left of Christine, and no… one else seems to care. No one lets me… talk about my sister. It is… as if everyone else is eager to… forget her, to act as if she… never existed. And what is most ironic is that… Christine is the one person I used to… talk to about everything.”
“Christine is yer sister?”
The simple use of ‘is’ instead of ‘was’ almost broke her again.
“Yes, she is—was. And I miss her.” Her breath hitched. “Goodness, how I miss her. I wouldn’t trade Lizzy for anything, but… I desperately wish my sister had never met that… that terrible man!”
“Two things can be true at once,” Gordon said softly. “Nay one could ever doubt that ye love yer niece.”
“But my sister should be here to raise her,” Agnes argued, angry now. “It isn’t fair that she is gone, and it isn’t fair that he gets to shirk his duties as a father.”
“What happened?”
Agnes turned away, her eyes narrowing as she stared into the flames in the fireplace.
“All was well. The labor had not been easy, but my sister was heroic, and she was in good spirits afterward. Tired but joyful. Lizzy was healthy and asleep, the physician was content that everything was in order, Christine was so proud and so in love, and it felt like everything was going to be all right.”
“And then he turned up, demanding to see his child,” she hissed. “I did not want to let him, but my father insisted that it was Edwin’s right to see his child. I reminded my father that Edwin had refused to marry Christine, but I suppose my father hoped that Edwin was there to set things right.”
“He wasnae?”
Agnes shook her head. “I was dismissed from the room, but I heard him shouting at her. I stayed away for as long as I could, but when I heard Lizzy crying, I marched back in there. He was standing over the baby, staring at her, and Christine was weeping.” Her lip curled.
“Edwin left soon after, and… I am convinced even now that he was the cause of her death.”
“Ye think he killed her?” Gordon’s voice darkened, and she thought of what she had seen in the marketplace.
Perhaps ridding the world of Edwin would not be such a terrible thing. If it could be done as swiftly and skillfully as it had been done to his minions, then she could feign ignorance.
But then Gordon would be in trouble.
“No, not exactly,” she answered after a moment. “I think the… stress of their meeting killed her, or… I do not know, but I have this nagging doubt that I am missing something. Then again, perhaps I just want to have someone to blame.”
Gordon got up and moved closer, sitting in the nearby armchair. “Tell me of yer suspicion, lass.”
“That is the problem; I cannot. It is just a feeling.” She shrugged, pausing. “When women die in childbirth, they die during or shortly after, do they not?”
“That’s me understandin’,” he replied, “but I cannae say for sure.”
“Yes, but they do not die hours later, after the physician has informed them that everything seems well and after they have been perfectly well,” she countered.
“Christine was in fine health until Edwin visited. By morning, she was gone, and it has never made sense to me, but no one else seems to think it is strange.”
Even now, she doubted herself. Physicians made mistakes all the time, and no one else seemed to think it was suspicious. So, maybe she really just wanted someone to blame, someone to hate so that she could make better sense of such an awful tragedy.
“I just miss her.” Her voice cracked. “I miss her, and I hate that Lizzy has her father’s hair instead of Christine’s.
I hate that she resembles him at all. And I miss home, and I miss walking by the river, gossiping with my sister, and I miss my sister’s laughter, and…
and I miss who I was before all of this.
It wasn’t just Christine who died. She took so much of me with her, and most of the time, I feel I am but half a person. A shell that is about to shatter.”
Gordon rose from the armchair to come to her side, kneeling. His hand dipped into the hot, fragrant water and found hers.
“Ye willnae shatter,” he told her.
“Won’t I?” she challenged, gripping his hand tightly.
“I am trying so very hard at something I have no experience in.
I am trying to play a role I am unfit for, and…
I feel as if I am failing that sweet girl.
Yes, she is fed and rested and clothed and tended to, but…
will she be happy? Will she be like her mother?
Will she live a good life with me, when I do not know what I am doing?