by Alisa Adams
"Are you better now, Mistress?" Maisie asked anxiously.
"Oh, Maisie," Rosina covered her face with her hands, "do you think I am a monster?"
Maisie embraced her.
"I cannot think of anyone who is less like a monster than you, Mistress," she replied fervently, "he was an evil man and we are well rid of him."
* * *
Rosina gave her a watery smile.
"Thank you, Maisie," then, rubbing her eyes, she tried to pull herself together and said briskly: "shall we begin?"
"We must also cover your face with some lip rouge and powder, Mistress," and sponge it before bruises rise."
Maisie quickly and efficiently covered Rosina's face in cosmetics and styled her hair to cover as much of her cheeks as she could.
"Your lips are swollen from an excess of kissing!" she said firmly.
Maisie got some cleaning materials from a nearby storeroom, then they stripped off the rest of the bedclothes and put on fresh ones. They cleaned the floor and scrubbed the bedposts, and when they had finished they looked at their work with satisfaction.
"For someone who has never lifted a scrubbing brush in her life, mistress, you did a fine job!"
Rosina laughed half-heartedly then sat down and buried her head in her hands again. The shock had not worn off and Rosina doubted it ever would. She could not ever imagine being free of the memories of her wedding night.
They heard a very faint knock at the door again and Maisie unlocked it. Logan came back into the room. He had run up the stairs and looked slightly out of breath, but he quickly recovered.
"Ladies," he said grimly, "I was not here tonight, and neither were you, Maisie. I have taken Alasdair's body down to a drainage ditch near the outer wall. They will find him there with the empty purse a few yards away from him. Maisie, you must go back to your room and pretend you have been sleeping all night," he paused for breath, then looked at Rosina.
"Lady Rosina," he leaned forward in his chair and speared her with the stare of his blue eyes, "please listen carefully."
"I will," she said hoarsely.
"When you and Alasdair came to the bedroom you kissed a little passionately for a while." He pointed to her lips. "Then he told you to get into bed at once and wait for him so that he could retrieve a present for you which he had hidden downstairs so that you had absolutely no chance of finding it. Tell your father it was a little peculiarity of his. When they find the body they will find a velvet purse with it so that it looks as though your gift was stolen."
"Why did they not take the purse too?" Maisie asked.
Logan shrugged.
"Because they did not - no special reason at all," he replied carelessly, shrugging.
"But there are guards at the gate and all around the grounds," Rosina pointed out.
"There are hundreds of people here with hundreds of servants," he answered, "and we cannot ask everyone for a character reference. Someone saw him, took away the piece of jewelry and blended back into the crowd. Perhaps the thief had an accomplice at the castle - no-one will ever know."
"But I must have been worried when he was gone so long," frowned.
"But you were very tired and fell asleep," Logan said, "and that is why in a few hours you are going to wake up your father to go and search for him. They will find his body and the velvet purse and draw their own conclusions. By that time all the guests will have gone home with their servants, and no-one will know who or how many of them there were. The nobility will never suspect each other, so I think they will suspect a servant, but no-one has a shred of proof."
The two women looked at each other.
"That is ingenious!" Rosina said, smiling at him, "thank you, my Laird. But - may I ask you something?" She looked puzzled.
"Of course you may," he replied, "ask, and I will answer if I can."
"Why are you doing this for me? We do not know each other and you do not seem to like anyone. Why me?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I know that I am not well liked," he said, "I know that I am not liked at all. I stay away from people because - well - I do not like them much. They scare me with their falseness."
"That is something I never expected to hear!" Rosina said incredulously, "why Laird, you are such a big man! "
He made a noise that might have been a laugh coming from someone else.
"There is more than one type of fear, Lady Rosina," he was looking out of the window, his eyes far away, "I dislike the society of people who have nothing to say. I would rather talk to my tenants who are real, honest, and talk about things that matter - things that affect my life. Shallow people scare me because of their emptiness, and there are so many empty people out there. You are not empty, and when I saw you in such distress because of that -" his face twisted as he only just stopped himself from swearing, "that monster, how could I not help you? How could anyone not?"
Rosina stood up. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
"You are twice the man I thought you were," she said, smiling.
"Thank you, Milady," he answered, then treated her to one of his rare smiles. She was amazed. It was like the sun coming out, and she was enchanted by the dimples that appeared in his cheeks, the even whiteness of his teeth and the sparkle in his blue eyes.
Logan was amazed too. He never spoke about his feelings to anyone.
"Now I must sneak back and play my part again," he said grimly.
"And talk to the empty people?" Maisie asked, raising her eyebrows.
"For my sins," he kissed Rosina's hand and bowed slightly to Maisie. "Goodnight, ladies," he said quietly.
"Thank you for everything!" Rosina called out as loudly as she dared, but he was gone.
9
The Body
"Goodnight Mistress," Maisie said as she tucked her into bed, "do not forget what the Laird said. And I am only a few doors away if you need me."
She turned away but Rosina caught her hand and held it.
"I could not live without you, Maisie," she said fervently. Maisie smiled.
"Neither could I without you, Mistress."
When she had gone and there was no-one left to talk to, the enormity of what she had done hit her like a sledgehammer. She had killed someone. She had taken a human life, and she had concealed it. Was she evil? She didn't think so. She had been acting in self-defense and God would forgive her, she hoped. Logan had been a revelation. He had been so kind - she had not realized the kind of man he was until tonight, but her intuition told her one thing. At some time in his life, he had been very, badly hurt.
* * *
She could not get out of her mind's eye the picture of Alasdair's sightlessly staring eyes. That would haunt her forever. She lay tensely in her bed, starting at every little sound. She had visions of Alasdair with the ghastly wound in his forehead, creeping up the stairs and coming to lie beside her. When she looked out and saw that the last carriage had left, she waited awhile then put on a robe and went downstairs. Her father was still in the hall, talking to the butler. She approached him, and he looked around, astonished to see her.
"Why lass!" he frowned, "why are you not in bed with your husband?"
Rosina shook her head and looked around her.
"It's very strange, Father," she said anxiously, "just after we went to our room he said he had a gift for me which he had hidden where I would never find it. He was always a bit strange that way - always looking over his shoulder, you know, so I thought nothing of it. He was always hiding things in strange places! It was one of those little things that made me love him so much." She paused, then went on: "when I said he could get it in the morning he said he didn't want to wait, he wanted me to have it right there and then. When he had been away for a wee while I thought he was talking to someone down here, so I waited for him, but eventually, I fell asleep. I think I had too much wine! I just woke up a moment ago and he has not come back to bed!" She looked and sounded almost hysterical. Her fathe
r embraced her and kissed the top of her head.
"Don't worry, Lass, we will find him," he laughed softly, "too much whiskey, I imagine! He is probably sleeping somewhere!"
Rosina nodded, hoping her acting skills were equal to the occasion, but she seemed to have been convincing so far.
"We will round up a search party," her father said firmly, "now do not worry, Lass. We will find him, and he probably will be none the worse for wear except for the very sore head he will have in the morning!"
* * *
Rosina almost laughed out loud at the thought. She had given him such a sore head he would never have another one!
"I will come with you," she said firmly.
"Indeed you will not!" Hugh Buchanan's voice was indignant. "It is cold outside and you are shivering already. Go back to bed. I will call you when we find him and I will have a few choice words to say to him. Rosina laughed.
"Just bring him back, Father," she smiled grimly, "I will be saying - no, shouting - the choice words!"
Hugh Buchanan rounded up ten of his guards to search the extensive grounds of the castle, but it took an hour before the body was found, wedged into a drainage ditch a long way from the gate. It was one of the darkest parts of the courtyard since it was close to the wall and ran straight down into the moat, which was why Logan had chosen it. Hugh thought at first that he was unconscious, but the body was unnaturally cold and when they turned it over the men gasped at the ghastly head wound. The head was lying at an unnatural angle since Logan had broken its neck while dropping it into the tunnel, and the glassy eyes were still open till Hugh closed them. In the corpse's hand, they found the velvet pouch, almost torn in two as if the robbers had wanted to murder it too. His cloak , bloodied and dirty, had been torn as the body was dragged along the ground. The whole scene looked grisly and violent in the extreme. Logan had done a good job. Hugh passed a hand over his forehead, thinking of his daughter. This was going to break her heart.
* * *
"Douglas! Stuart!" he called two of his biggest men. "Find a blanket to wrap this body in and take it to the dungeon where nobody will find it. My daughter must not see it under any circumstances."
Hugh suddenly thought how strange it was that her daughter's husband was suddenly an 'it,' but his soul had left his body and he was no longer a human being, just a thing. He took a deep breath, dreading what he had to do.
Rosina had gone back to her room to dress and when she called on Maisie she found that she too had been restless and unable to sleep. "They have gone to look for him," Rosina said anxiously, "oh, Maisie, tell me I have done the right thing. Can we even trust Laird Fraser?" "I think we can," Maisie took her hands in hers, "Mistress, I think he is just one of those people who can't show their feelings, but I think he is a good man."
"I hope so," Rosina put her face in her hands, "because we have to trust him, do we not?"
"And Mistress," Maisie took her hands away again and looked her straight in the eye, "I think you did do the right thing. You were defending yourself. He may have murdered you! And you did not mean to kill him anyway. Whatever the law says, you were right, he was wrong and I am proud of you."
Rosina hugged her.
"Thank you, Maisie."
They decided to stay in Rosina's room till the body was found, preparing themselves for what was to come.
About forty minutes later, Laird Hugh knocked on the door and Maisie opened it for him. Both women stood waiting for him to speak. "Sit down, my Dear," he began, his voice heavy with dread. "I have bad news. We have found Alasdair's body."
10
Aftermath
Rosina sat down suddenly. She was only playing a part, she knew, but to hear the words coming out of her father's mouth was so shocking that she let out a gasp and put a hand to her chest, then looked up at her father. Her lips parted but she could not say anything. She was genuinely shocked. Maisie offered her a glass of wine but she waved it away.
"What happened?" she asked faintly, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be acting.
"We think he was attacked and robbed," the Laird said gently, "but I do not want you to look at him yet, Rosina. We will make the body fit to be seen in a few hours."
"Who did it?" Rosina asked anxiously, "do you have any idea?"
"We will never know," Hugh said, sighing. "There were servants, horsemen, ladies in waiting, nobility -" he shrugged. "We cannot ask them all and most likely they are already gone."
She nodded. Now she really did feel like crying, and it was not an act.
"Do you want to lie and rest for awhile Mistress?" Maisie asked gently. Rosina nodded and led her to the bed, then tucked her in.
"I will sit with her, my Laird," she said gently, "she will not want to be alone."
"Come outside with me for a moment, Maisie," Hugh whispered. Maisie glanced back at Rosina, but she looked peaceful, so she followed the Laird out. They walked a few yards down the corridor, out of Rosina's earshot, and the Laird turned to her.
"Was the marriage consummated? Do you know?"
Maisie shook her head.
"I think not, my Laird," she said firmly, "we talked about many things while we were waiting and she told me that they had not yet made love."
"So there will be no chance of a child, then," he mused. "Thank you, Maisie."
Maisie turned and went back to the bedroom, where Rosina was silently weeping. She took her hands and caressed them gently for a moment.
"Maisie?"
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Would you mind lying beside me for a while? I know it's a strange request but it would comfort me."
* * *
Maisie, who had slept in the same bed as her mother and sisters many times, thought nothing of it. She gave Rosina a strong sleeping draught, then got into the big bed. Immediately Rosina laid her head on her shoulder, and in five minutes they were both fast asleep.
In the morning when Rosina woke up Maisie was still beside her, sleeping peacefully. When Rosina had woken, the shock hit her like the blow of a hammer. She wished she could wind back time.
She decided not to wake Maisie. She sat down for a while thinking about what would happen next. There would be a funeral and a period of mourning, then she would be expected to wear black for three months. All for a monster who had made Rosina's life miserable even by his death. She could not believe she had been so easily deceived by his compliments and flattery, but she was young and he had been her first love. Now there were things to be done, and the first was to tell Connor McPhail about his brother's death. Rosina washed then left Maisie sleeping peacefully and went downstairs to see her father. He was sitting behind the desk in his office, but he was not working. He was gazing out of the window and Rosina could see by his drawn-down brows that he was not happy. He did not look sad, but angry, and she wondered why.
"Good morning father," Rosina said, "how are you?"
Laird Hugh jumped up and came to embrace her.
"More to the point, Rosie, how are you?" he looked into her face and she managed a little smile.
"I will be fine soon," she reassured him, "it has all been such a terrible, terrible shock."
He led her to a chair and she sat down.
"Have you sent a letter to Connor?" her heart was hammering as she asked the question, and she was twisting her hands in her lap without even realizing it.
"I have," he replied, "I feel responsible for the burial, so I will ask him to come here for the funeral and wake. And I am furious that what should have been the happiest day of your life was spoiled."
Rosina nodded sadly.
"Do you think he will come?" she asked doubtfully, "I know that there was no love lost between them. He would not even come to our wedding."
Hugh sighed and shrugged.
"I do not know," he replied, "I am hopeful of a timely response. I have many arrangements to make."
Rosina felt very guilty. She was the cause of all this. She had killed Alasdair
and now everyone else was having to suffer for it. She should have been feeling guilty for the actual death, she thought, but she could not. What else could she have done but defend herself? But why had she not confided in her father? Because Logan Fraser had been right there to take matters out of her hands and she wanted no distress for Hugh, who had been the best father a girl could have had for as long as she could remember. Her mother had died of tuberculosis when Rosina was eight, but she had good memories of her. No, her father would never know of this. She went back upstairs to find Maisie awake and tidying her bedroom.
"Mistress, you should have woken me!" She said reprovingly, "did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I did, surprisingly," Rosina said calmly.
Maisie was smoothing the covers of the bed and looked up, surprised at how well her mistress did look. Less than a day ago she had been looking forward to her wedding, then she had been married, killed her husband, covered up his death and found his body. After that she had slept. Maisie adored Rosina, and she knew that what she had done had not been deliberately wicked, and she was not sure if she could have had so much self-possession under the same circumstances, but she did not know how painful Rosina's thoughts were.
* * *
"Would you like some breakfast now, Mistress?" she asked, "I can bring you something light, some eggs, perhaps?"
Rosina shook her head.
"Thank you, Maisie, but I am not hungry," she replied, "maybe some milk?"
* * *
Maisie went down to the kitchen, where three of the maids and the cook accosted her at once, all asking for news.
