The room grew silent. She took the splintered wood from him, turning it slowly to assess the damage. Badly crushed, the instrument was beyond repair. Until this moment she had truly believed the Mathesons’ opinions about her were changing, and she ignored the occasional rebuff she still received. She was wrong, and the evidence lay in her hands. This had been done intentionally to hurt her. Hardening herself, she vowed not to let the clan see how badly it had.
The man looked confused. “My lady, I-I’m sorry. It was under the rushes.”
“Mairead, what is it?” asked Tadhg.
As Mairead turned to her husband, Flan, who was on his feet trembling with rage, started to answer, “It’s her—”
“Flan!” She cut him off sharply.
“But—”
“It’s nothing, Flan,” She gave him a warning look as she walked toward the hearth.
“Mairead, stop. I asked ye a question,” said Tadhg quietly.
She held the fragments up so he could see them. She responded with a controlled calm she didn’t feel. “It was an instrument. Now it is kindling.” She turned back to the hearth intent on tossing the splintered remains of her beloved recorder into the fire.
However, old Jock was in the hall for supper that night. He maneuvered himself between Mairead and the fire with remarkable agility. “Nay, lass.” His voice was gentle and he took the ruined instrument from her. The look of affection and sympathy in the old man’s eyes was her undoing. She needed to leave the hall or risk embarrassing herself with the tears that threatened.
“Where did ye leave it that it ended up under the rushes?”
Flan became indignant at the laird’s question. “Mairead never leaves her instruments just lying around.”
“Flan, watch yer tone with me,” Tadhg warned. “Mairead, answer me. Where did ye leave it?”
Her back was still toward him, and she didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t think she could stand it if he looked at her with pity—or even worse, censure—in his expression. “In the cabinet in my solar. Please excuse me.”
He ignored her request. “Mairead, if it was in the cabinet in yer solar, how could it have ended up down here?”
His question seemed to imply that she was mistaken about having put the recorder away properly. However, he was wrong. She had put it away. She always put it away. She certainly didn’t leave it lying in the great hall. The only possible explanation was that someone removed it from her solar and placed it under the rushes intentionally. Telling him this, admitting his clan despised her so, was more than she could do and still maintain her composure. She could feel every eye in the room boring into her, waiting for her to respond. She shook her head, defeated. “I don’t know. Please excuse me, Laird.” This time she left the great hall without waiting for his permission.
Chapter 13
Tadhg watched, stunned, as she fled the hall. Before he could follow her, Jock drew his attention. “That was a daft question, Laird.”
“Aye, it was daft, Jock, because she certainly isn’t going to admit to being careless with her precious toys,” said someone seated at one of the trestle tables.
“If ye believe such nonsense, Archie, ye are an eejit,” said Jock. “Laird, what young Flan there was trying to tell ye is this pile of splinters used to be a recorder yer wife’s grand-da made for her, and ye can be sure she didn’t leave it where it could be trod upon.”
Tadhg couldn’t believe his ears. It was ludicrous. Who would do such a thing? “Are ye suggesting someone put it under the rushes on purpose?”
“I’m not suggesting it, Laird, I’m telling ye it is a fact.”
Tadhg tried to reason with him. “That makes no sense. Why would someone do that, Jock?”
“Ye really don’t know, do ye? Do any of ye fine Mathesons have the nerve to tell the laird openly what some of ye whisper to each other?” Jock glanced around. “Nay? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He shook his head in disgust. “I’ll bet yer squire knows, Laird. Don’t ye, lad? Heck tells me ye got those bruises on yer face defending yer sister.”
Tadhg’s frustration grew. He wanted answers. “Jock, what is this about?”
“Well, Laird, this might shock ye, but many in the clan didn’t approve of yer bride choice. They think ye should have married within the clan.”
“That is ridiculous!”
“Nevertheless, it is true.”
Tadhg glanced angrily around the room and Jock continued, “That being the case, it might make sense if they took their disapproval out on ye, but they don’t. They vent their jealousy on the wee lass ye married. Many of them snub her and gossip about her. What are the current rumors, Eavan? Is it that she is a helpless pampered child who can do nothing herself? Nay, that is old news. Was it something about Lady Matheson being a whore because she was seen naked with her husband in their private chamber, Finola?”
There was an audible gasp from the assembly and Tadhg’s jaw clenched in fury.
“Why are ye all so shocked? Is this not what ye heard, Taban? Nay, I believe ye said the laird had gone soft because he let Lady Matheson talk him out of beating Meriel and Kester. Wait a minute, that wasn’t it, was it, Hazel? Lady Matheson couldn’t have talked the laird out of beating Meriel and Kester. Ye said the reason the lass was quiet that evening was because she was angry the laird didn’t punish them more severely. Of course, her reserve couldn’t have had anything to do with the fact the shy, wee lass was mortified.”
Jock sighed, shaking his head. “Laird, I guess it can be summed up by saying many in the clan have decided ye chose the wrong bride. It is their duty to stand in judgment of her every action, punishing her because of yer poor choice. Now it looks as if someone decided their chilly treatment of the sweet wee lass wasn’t hurting quite enough, so they took something precious to her and left it where it was sure to be destroyed.”
The hall was silent. Tadhg looked around at his clan, but the only people who met his gaze were Flan, Jock, and the two confused priests.
Was this true? “Jock has made some harsh accusations. Will anyone deny them?”
Met with stony silence, his question remained unanswered.
“In fairness, Laird,” said Jock, “there are a growing number of people who have learned what a genuinely kind and capable lass ye married.”
“Then why, if ye all knew about this, am I only just hearing it tonight?” He looked specifically at his guardsmen with barely contained rage.
“Because yer gentle wife believed ye couldn’t force people to change their hearts. It was something she said she needed to do herself,” Cael answered.
“Aye, Laird, and she is succeeding,” offered Oren. “It is as Jock said. We wanted to see the worst in her, and I count myself among those who did, at first. For that, Laird, I am deeply sorry. Lady Matheson is demonstrating daily how wrong many of us were about her.”
Jock added, “And those of us who love her would have let her continue to try, but this—” He indicated the broken instrument in his hand. “—is unforgivable.”
“Do ye mean to tell me she has heard all of this foul gossip?”
“Nay, lad, never that,” Jock assured him gently. “But it is hard not to notice when ye are getting the cold shoulder. She only knew there were some who felt ye should have married a clanswoman and therefore they were not particularly welcoming.”
“Well, let me make one thing perfectly clear. I never considered taking a bride from within the clan. No matter how many strong allies I have, choosing not to strengthen those ties with marriage would have been foolish and not in the best interests of this clan.” Tadhg shook his head. This was beyond belief. He glanced around the hall again, his eyes resting on Flan’s bruised face.
“Flan, did ye fight to defend yer sister?”
Flan stood tall and looked him directly in the eye. “Aye, Laird.” Looking around the room and seeing Tully’s swollen nose and the bruising under his eyes, he asked, “Did my squire break yer nose, Tully
?”
“Aye, Laird. I’m sorry, Laird.”
“Well done, Flan. It will save my having to do it tomorrow.”
He was ashamed. How had he failed to notice this maltreatment of his wife? He couldn’t change what had happened, but it was going to stop immediately. “Will anyone admit to removing the instrument from my wife’s solar and placing it under the rushes?” Met with silence again, Tadhg spat, “I thought not. It was the shameful act of a coward. God’s teeth, I thought better of ye than this. When she was concerned about overstepping her bounds or causing hurt feelings it actually irritated me. I assured her ye would respect her solely because she was Lady Matheson. When I would have dismissed Meriel and Kester, it was Lady Matheson, the one ye are all so quick to judge, who asked me for leniency. Taban, was it ye who said I had gone soft? Well, by God I have, but not because I married Mairead MacKenzie or chose to show mercy at her request. If I have gone soft, it is because I held many members of my clan in higher esteem than they deserved!
“I didn’t think it was necessary to give this order, but from here on ye will treat Lady Matheson with the same respect due me. If ye fail to do this, ye will find out exactly how hard and merciless I can be. Going forward, I will ignore any pleas from yer lady for leniency. Now ye will excuse me. I have to go and beg forgiveness from Lady Matheson on yer sorry behalf.”
Tadhg ascended the stairs to their chambers in the south tower. How could they have done this to her? She was sweet and kind and so very fragile. No, that wasn’t right, she wasn’t fragile at all. She was resilient. She met a challenge with full vigor. She had taken on the prejudices of his whole clan and, as Jock had said, she had already won most of them over. Still, this last blow was intended to inflict serious pain. He couldn’t imagine the sorrow and loss she was feeling and all he wanted to do was comfort her. He wanted to show her how important she was to him and how much he cared for her. He was sure he would find her in their chambers, but the rooms were all empty.
~ * ~
Mairead had to leave the great hall before she did something she would regret. She didn’t know where she was going—her only goal was to escape the situation with at least a remnant of her pride intact.
Instead of entering the south tower, she left the keep through the door leading to the kitchens. The snow, which had been threatening for several days, was now falling. She turned off the pathway to the kitchen to walk through the swirling snow into the dark frozen garden behind it. Since the horrible day at the festival seven years earlier, she had not given in to tears until the day she had arrived at Cnocreidh. Tears over small things seemed absurd. She was always able to talk herself out of them. Now she was on the verge of tears over a little wooden recorder; it didn’t get more ridiculous than that.
Nay, it wasn’t just over the recorder. Ye are the mouse everyone always said ye were, and once again ye have failed. It doesn’t matter how well ye can run a household if the people in it hate ye. Ye deserve this, Mairead. If ye were a better, stronger, braver person this wouldn’t be happening. Just as it had always worked in the past, when she was through punishing herself, she was too ashamed to cry.
She turned to leave the garden when the panicked sound of her husband’s voice calling her name interrupted her self-castigation. She called to him, “I’m here, Tadhg,” before calmly walking back around the kitchens toward the keep.
“Mairead, love, what are ye doing out here? I know ye are upset, sweetling, but ye will freeze.”
“Nay, I am fine. I just needed a few minutes alone. I didn’t mean to worry ye. I am sorry.”
“It is much too cold out here, love.” He gently put his arm around her. “Come inside with me.”
She went with him silently. When they reached their chamber, he pulled her into an embrace. “Mairead, I am so very sorry. I didn’t know how badly my clan has been treating ye. If I had paid attention and done something about it sooner, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. It is inexcusable and it will change.”
She rested her cheek against his chest but said nothing. Of course it will change, for no other reason than the laird commands it. MacKenzie’s Mouse couldn’t make an ant change direction. “It’s fine Tadhg. I understand.”
“It is not fine and I don’t understand.”
“It’s as I told ye right after we were married, Cnocreidh has been without a mistress for years. I’m sure the sudden change came as a surprise. Don’t be too hard on them. It has been a difficult adjustment.”
He tipped her chin up to look directly into her eyes. “Ye know it was more than that and I shouldn’t have believed ye when ye said it the first time. Jock told me what has been going on.”
She tried to look away, but he held her chin firmly. “Mairead, no matter what some members of the clan thought or hoped, I never considered marrying a clanswoman. Regardless of anything else, my marriage to ye was strategically sound and served the best interests of my clan. I did not think it was necessary to explain this to them. Since becoming laird, I have always considered the good of the clan first. They know that and for that reason alone it was their responsibility to accept and welcome ye as Lady Matheson. I have made it perfectly clear now.”
“I understand.” She gave him a half smile.
“Do ye?”
“Aye, I do.” She understood she was not worthy of their acceptance and respect on her own merit; a command from the laird was required. She did not tell him this.
“Sweetling, even though I know nothing can ever completely replace the recorder yer grandfather made, I will get a new one for ye.”
“Please don’t, Tadhg. It is fine, truly it is. I have other instruments. I don’t really want a new one.” She couldn’t explain her feelings about it to him. She feared a replacement would only remind her of her loss every time she played it. In fact, she thought perhaps it best if she put music aside altogether. With what she now believed to be intentional damage done to her harp and the willful destruction of her recorder, the message from the clan was clear.
~ * ~
Although she tried to minimize things, Tadhg had no doubt it wasn’t “fine”. Her eyes were filled with profound sadness, the pain of which was like a knife in his gut. He had never experienced this kind of pain for another person and all he wanted to do was fix it, make things better for her. Only weeks ago, he had vowed to honor her, keep her, and guard her and by all accounts he wasn’t doing a very good job of that if his own clan had hurt her so badly. He had promised to love her, too. Was he at least beginning to get that right? Was that the reason he ached so for her?
~ * ~
The next morning, Mairead woke before dawn. The memories of the previous evening came flooding back and with them the shame that accompanied them. She had to face the day and the clan, knowing even in spite of her best efforts, she was unable to earn their respect. Nevertheless, she would receive it now because Tadhg commanded it. After breakfast, Mairead worked at her tasks for the day and everything went smoothly. Of course things went smoothly. She told herself it had nothing to do with her skill or abilities. With Christmas upon them, there were plenty of things to do to prepare for the upcoming feasts so Mairead stayed busy. Burying fear and doubt in a never-ending stream of tasks had always worked for her before, just as it did now.
Chapter 14
Over the next week, Tadhg became concerned about Mairead. He couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong. His entire clan was finally showing Mairead the respect due her and yet she seemed sad and tense. At the midday meal four days before Christmas he asked, “Sweetling, ye seem unhappy to me. Are ye missing yer family? Is that what has ye so melancholy?”
“I suppose I do miss them.”
“Well, I had a surprise planned for Christmas Eve, but maybe it will help if I tell ye now. Several days ago, I received a message from yer father. Rowan will be spending Christmas with us, before going on to Duncurra, the MacIan stronghold.” He expected joy but instead there was a fleeting moment of panic befor
e she composed herself. “Why is Rowan going to Duncurra?”
“I don’t have all of the details, but I understand Niall MacIan has asked Rowan to join his elite guard. I’m sure we will learn more once he arrives.”
“Wouldn’t it be a shorter journey for him to travel straight to Duncurra?”
“I suppose it would, but for some reason he wants to visit with ye and Flan,” he teased her.
“He needn’t go out of his way. It is hard enough to travel in the winter months.”
“Mairead, ye are being ridiculous. Rowan wants to see ye and Flan. I thought ye would welcome a visit at Christmas from some of yer family.”
“I do. Of course I do. I just don’t want—I don’t want—well, Rowan should spend Christmas with the family.”
Tadhg laughed. “What are ye talking about? Ye and Flan are family.”
“I just meant—I just thought he would rather spend Christmas with the whole family at Carraigile.”
Tadhg couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was the last reaction he expected from her. She obviously missed her family terribly and yet she seemed set against Rowan’s visit. “Mairead, stop it, ye are being ridiculous. The whole family isn’t at Carraigile. Ye and Flan are here, and Rowan wants to spend Christmas here with ye.”
Flan overheard this last comment, and he asked excitedly, “Rowan is coming for Christmas?” Tadhg looked at Mairead for a moment before answering. “Aye, Flan, he will arrive on Christmas Eve and plans to stay through Epiphany.”
Tadhg had no idea why Mairead had reacted as she did to the news of Rowan coming, but over the next couple of days things only got worse. She pushed herself incessantly, preparing the keep for Christmas. She seemed distracted and wore a haunted look he didn’t understand. Two nights later, when he couldn’t get his normally responsive wife to even return his kiss, Tadhg had finally had enough. “Mairead, what is the matter with ye? Ye have been out of sorts for weeks, but it has gotten worse since I told ye Rowan was coming.”
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 Page 37
