This seemed to have an effect on the Laird. Maybe he was growing a conscience, or maybe he just wished the conversation to be over.
“Fine. She can stay. But only because I ken ye can be such a pain, Deirdre. And as soon as she’s found her parents, she will be sent back to England, and that’s the end of it. And keep her out of me sight!” the Laird snapped and left the table, slamming the dining room door behind him.
4
One Step At A Time
Deirdre was now by Marion’s side at all times. She was easy to be around, because she was always in a good mood and chirping on about things that didn’t matter. She didn’t pry too much, for which Marion was grateful.
Instead, she told her stories of her own. She had told Marion that her parents had died when she was only a few months old. She didn’t remember them at all, but the Laird had been 9 years old at the time. He remembered, and he resented the Englishmen who had killed their parents in cold blood.
“But why does he seem to hate me so much?” Marion asked one morning while she and Deirdre were walking towards the town square.
“He doesnae hate ye, really,” she said. “He doesnae have very warm feelings towards the English, ye understand,” Deirdre explained.
To Marion, this excuse still didn’t make much sense. But despite him having good reasons to avoid her or not, she decided to stay as far away from him as possible.
It was a gloomy morning and Marion wrapped her cloak around herself better, as the wind blew over the town and gave her chills. They were making their way towards the town square, where the well was located. Deirdre had said it would be the best place to start meeting the townspeople and asking them about her parents.
They had been at the square every day since Marion’s arrival. Though Marion had told Deirdre she’d be fine on her own, Deirdre never complained. She followed Marion to the square every day like a faithful dog. Never complaining about the weather, which could get very rainy and windy at times. Deirdre never even looked tired, though they’d stand at the square hour after hour, every day.
Fortunately, the weather was on their side today. At least they could expect to meet more people. They reached the square and Marion settled at her usual spot by the well and folded her tartan neatly over her forearm, with the initials visible.
I wish I knew more about them.
She stroked the initials lightly.
Over the days they had spent at the square together, they had gotten to know quite a few people, who now greeted Marion every time they saw her.
“Lady Marion, how are ye this wonderful mornin’?” a kind-faced middle-aged woman greeted her while she cranked the bucket up the well slowly but surely.
“Mrs. Bass, I am well, thank you. How are you doing and how is your little boy? Is he still sick with the cold?” Marion asked. She liked Mrs. Bass who was a hard-working, widowed woman who took care of her son by herself.
“He’s much better now, thank the Lord. Me back isn’t what it used to be and I need his help with the sheep,” she said and grabbed a bucket full of fresh water with both her hands. “Good luck with ye search, may the Lord bless ye!”
Marion waved at her as she wobbled on towards her house. Living here amongst the people who had to work hard to feed their families had given Marion a different perspective of life. Her own life had, in fact, been very sheltered and safe, just as Edith had said. She felt a leap in her heart—she missed home.
A chubby man and an older blind woman were approaching the well and Marion greeted them wholeheartedly.
“Good morning! How are you today? Might I disturb you for one moment?” Marion started, just as she had said with each and every new person she’d met in the past days.
“Eh? Who are ye? Never seen ye here before. Ye’re English?” the old man scratched his head and helped the blind woman to sit down on an upside-down bucket. Deirdre hurried to pull up a bucket of water for the couple.
“Her name is Lady Marion, Mr. Dugal, and she’s looking fer her parents,” Deirdre said and poured water into the man’s rusty bucket.
“Yer parents, eh? What’re their names, lass?” Mr. Dougal asked, looking at Marion with an interest peeking behind his eyes.
“I don’t know, honestly. I only have this tartan with my initials, S.M. I was wrapped in it and left in England when I was a baby, and to my knowledge, they are from Scotland. Have you heard of a missing baby girl about 20 years ago?” Marion said, showing the tartan to Mr. Dugal.
“Na, never heard of a missing bairn. That’s all ye have to go on, lass? That’s not much. Scotland is big, ye might have to travel a lot farther than this town to find them,” he said shaking his head.
Though Marion had heard “no” so many times in the past days, every new person was a new glimmer of hope. And yet each of the answers she’d heard so far had made her heart plummet down to her stomach.
She thanked the old man and his wife, and turned to the next new person approaching the well. And the next. And the next. And the next. Each new person was a new beacon and Marion gravitated towards them like a flower towards the sun. As the day went on, despair started to take over. There was a little voice in the back of her mind that whispered discouraging things, but she kept pushing it away.
When the sun started to set and no more people were walking by, Deirdre suggested they return back to the castle and get ready for dinner. Marion agreed, and they made their way back through the dimming streets.
“Tomorrow is a new day,” Deirdre said encouragingly and smiled at Marion.
“Do you think I’ll ever find them?” Marion said, looking at her tartan and running her fingers over the letters absentmindedly.
“Aye! We’ll have to keep at it. Someone will ken somethin’,” she said, but Marion thought it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Marion.
* * *
Marion sat next to Deirdre at the dinner table and looked at her meal hungrily. The Laird was sitting at the end of the short wooden table, not looking at either of them. He hadn’t even greeted them when he’d walked in.
However rude this behavior was, it was an improvement. For days after he’d agreed to let Marion stay, he hadn’t attended any meals. He hadn’t shown up for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Marion couldn’t help but feel that it was her fault. And she did feel a bit uneasy about creating such friction between him and his sister, who she had grown to like very much.
She had pushed that thought aside soon enough, though, just as she pushed many other thoughts and concerns aside these days. Marion wanted to break the tension even a little, in the hopes that maybe things would get easier between Deirdre and him, even if he’d still despise Marion.
“Laird Gille Chriost, I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you for letting me stay here. It is most kind of you,” Marion said.
The Laird didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even lift his head or look at Marion.
“Laird?” she tried again, unsure about whether he had heard her.
“I hear ye. I’d say the pleasure is all mine, but it really isn’t. Just keep out of me sight, both of ye,” he said and pushed the chair back, leaving the room. He slammed the door behind him so hard Marion felt the table vibrate.
Oooh! He’s such a… Marion bit her lip and interrupted her thought. She sighed and looked at Deirdre.
“Deirdre, I’m so sorry to have caused so much tension between you and the Laird. You know that was never my intention,” Marion said apologetically.
Deirdre didn’t seem concerned.
“Oh, daenae worry about him, his tantrum will pass in no time,” she smiled and took another bite.
Marion wasn’t so sure.
The sooner I find my parents, the sooner I can get out of here and everything will return to normal.
She finished off her food.
When Deirdre was finished with her plate, they both headed out of the dining room and into the dark halls. There were candles and lante
rns every few feet alongside the walls, lighting their way towards the stairs that would take them to the bedrooms.
“Old Miss Abbot is sayin’ it’ll be a storm tomorrow,” Deirdre said as they ascended the narrow, spiral staircase. “Maybe we should spend some time in the library and look over some old records instead of goin’ outside.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Marion said, eager to see their library. She had been secretly dying to see their library and possibly find more information about any families whose last names started with the letter M.
They said goodnight at Deirdre’s bedroom and Marion continued down the dark corridor towards her bedroom. The guest room she stayed in was small but cozy, covered with animal skins, woolen blankets and dozens of candles. Her window looked over the stables and at night, she could often hear the horses eating and neighing.
She had even found a Bible on her nightstand. As it was pretty much the only tool she had for distracting her thoughts at night, she flipped over the pages every evening before going to sleep.
During the day she was able to push certain thoughts aside very easily. When a picture of her adoptive parents rose into her mind, she quickly focused on the task at hand. When she missed Edith, thought of returning, when doubt filled her mind… she said to herself she’d think about all of it later.
But at night, when she was laying in her bed alone, those thoughts came flooding back. The most prominent thought was that she must have completely ruined her life by leaving. She had disgraced her family by leaving and when she’d return, she wouldn’t even know if they’d take her back. The Earl of Brookville would surely already have broken off the engagement.
Marion sat on her bed and took the Bible in her hands. Fortunately, tonight, she was too tired to think about anything else but sleep.
* * *
When Marion woke up the next day, she immediately noticed that Deirdre had been right last night. It was pouring rain outside. Marion even heard the rumble of thunder somewhere further away. The sky was dark, as if it wasn’t even morning yet.
She could feel the dampness in the air and on the wooden floor. It was cold. The fire in the fireplace had died into hot ash during the night.
She was an unwanted guest in the castle, so she didn’t have a servant. Instead, she was forced to dress herself and even light the fire in the fireplace. And that’s what she did. She pulled lilac robes out of the wardrobe. Deirdre had given her a set of new clothes in the clan colors. After all, Marion had only had one outfit with her when she arrived. She wasn’t a fan of the color, but didn’t complain about it. They were clean and warm and that’s all that mattered.
After dressing herself, she put new logs into the fireplace and sighed. She wasn’t good at starting the fire, as she’d never had to do it before she arrived at Gille Chriost. The first night it had taken her almost a whole hour.
Today, she managed to start the fire quickly and it only took a few minutes.
There! I guess I’m not so bad at this after all.
She was pleased with herself.
She pushed her cold hands towards the fire to warm them up. Her fire-starting skills were still young so she decided to stay for a few minutes to ensure the fire wouldn’t die out as soon as she stepped out of the room. She heard the grooms in the barn that was located right outside her window, talking and walking horses around on a stone floor.
I’ll go and see Bells later—I bet she needs a good brushing.
Marion’s hands started slowly warming up.
She stood up and took a glance in the mirror that was hanging over the fireplace. The woman she saw in the mirror was so different from the one she’d seen in her own mirror just some days ago that she almost didn’t recognize herself.
Her cheeks were thinner and her hair messier than she’d like. Even her face was a bit dirty. She hadn’t had a proper bath since her arrival.
In an attempt to make herself a bit more presentable, she braided her long, dark hair and tied it with a lilac ribbon. Then, she poured water from a kettle into a bowl to wash her face.
In order to give some extra rosiness to her cheeks, she made sure to rub the towel really hard on her face. It helped, and she looked a bit more like her old self, and she flashed a smile to the lady in the mirror.
It was breakfast time, by the sounds of it at least, so Marion stepped out of her room and headed downstairs.
* * *
Because it was pouring outside, Marion and Deirdre headed up to the library after breakfast. The Laird never made an appearance, so their breakfast ended up being just as uneventful as all the other breakfasts since Marion’s arrival.
“Ta-da!” Deirdre exaggerated and opened the heavy library door, letting Marion enter ahead of her.
It was a beautiful room and its walls were covered with shelves full of books. Big, tall windows on the other side of the room brought in daylight, so it would be pleasant to conduct reading and writing.
Though Marion’s library at the manor was much bigger, this wasn’t shabby at all.
“This is marvelous,” Marion exhaled and let her fingertips run over the backs of the books.
“Isn’t it? My brother takes good care of the library, and he writes and reads a lot. In fact, I believe we might run into him every now and then,” Deirdre said and pulled a big, leather-covered book off of a shelf.
Marion winced. She had hoped they wouldn’t have to cross the Laird’s path. After all, he had told them to stay out of his way.
“Are you sure it is all right for us to search here? I wouldn’t want to give the Laird any other reasons to dislike me. He already thinks unkindly of me, I’m afraid,” Marion said.
“Oh, hush! He’s just upset over Lord kens what. Ye ken, Marion, ye and me brother are so much alike in many ways. It fascinates me,” Deirdre said with a teasing smile on her lips.
“Deirdre! Me and the Laird, alike? In what sense? You’re a silly goose, that’s absolute untrue,” Marion replied, but with a bit of a smile in the corners of her mouth.
She pulled out a ledger that said, Town Hall Records, 1500-1510 and sat opposite to Deirdre, who was sitting on a purple couch.
“Well, let’s see…” Deirdre said and pretended to think very hard. “Ye are both so stubborn and ill-tempered at times. I think that if ye both were upset about the same thing, ye’d be the best of friends. But if ye both have different opinions of a matter, ye could be the worst of enemies,” she analyzed.
Marion threw a decorative pillow at her friend.
“Now I am certain that you are a silly goose!” Marion laughed disapprovingly. She absolutely refused to even entertain the idea. For starters, she wasn’t ill-tempered—she was a Lady. The little nagging voice in the back of her head that reminded her of her behavior towards her parents didn’t get a vote.
They both immersed themselves into going over the old records. Their purpose was to find all the last names starting with the letter M, just like on Marion’s tartan, and write them down. Afterwards, all they would need to do was to find each of those families. Easier said than done, but they had to start somewhere.
After hours had passed, the rain started slowing down and it was now only a drizzle. Marion closed the ledger and rubbed her tired eyes.
“I believe it’s lunch time. Shall we take a break?” Deirdre asked.
“I will meet you in the dining room, if you don’t mind. Bells hasn’t gotten any brushing in the past few days and since I don’t have my stable boy anymore, I’d best go down and do it myself,” Marion said.
While Deirdre headed back downstairs, Marion grabbed her cloak and headed outside towards the stables. It was muddy and wet outside, but at least the sun was starting to peek from between the clouds.
Marion walked between two wooden barns into a small courtyard where the stable boys were working and brushing the horses. She felt a few looks on her back as she walked swiftly into the barn, but she didn’t care.
Bells was eating h
ay in her stall, looking as comfortable as she would in her own stall back home. She didn’t look at all nervous anymore. As she heard Marion approaching, she lifted her head curiously.
“Hi there, little one, I trust your lunch is satisfactory?” Marion petted her white mare on the neck and admired her beautiful, big eyes. She’d fallen in love with this mare as soon as she had seen her when she was a little girl.
Marion and Bells had grown up together, so their bond was unbreakable. Marion instantly felt her tension releasing as she was brushing her shiny coat with uncertain strokes. She hadn’t done this too many times, as her stable boy was responsible for grooming and feeding Bells. She soon found she was enjoying herself and Bells seemed to approve, as well.
Captivating A Highland Warrior (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 4
