The events of yesterday had even made this older woman look happier than before. Deirdre felt kindheartedness towards her. She couldn’t even imagine how wonderful it had to be, to find her long-lost daughter.
“Good morning, Lady Brun,” Deirdre greeted her. “Goin’ to see Marion?” she asked.
Lady Brun nodded.
“I had a hard time pullin’ meself away from the room fer one minute last night. But Marion needed to rest, poor thing.”
They reached Marion’s door and Lady Brun knocked.
“Marion, darlin’, are ye awake?” Deirdre asked through the door.
There was no answer. Lady Brun knocked again.
“She has been asleep fer a long time,” Lady Brun said with a thoughtful tone.
She knocked again. Deirdre tilted her head in confusion.
“I should leave the tray fer her. Maybe she will want to eat when she wakes up,” Deirdre said and Lady Brun opened the door quietly.
The fire in the fireplace had died down and the room was a bit chilly. Marion was laying unmoving on her bed. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep.
Last night’s soup and pitcher of water were untouched on the tray.
Deirdre put down the tray.
“Marion? Are ye hungry?” she whispered.
Marion didn’t move. Lady Brun touched her forehead gently and gasped.
“What is the matter?” Deirdre asked, turning around to face Marion.
Now that she looked at her more carefully, she could see that Marion was pale and there were sweat pearls on her face. Her pillow was wet from the sweat and her hair stuck to her face.
“She’s cold,” Lady Brun whispered and started covering Marion up with more blankets.
“Stay with her!” Deirdre quickly exclaimed and ran out of the door.
Marion was really sick. That was all she could think about. Her breathing had been shallow and Deirdre couldn’t wipe the image of her unnervingly pale face out of her mind.
“Fionnghall!” she called as she ran down the stairs. There was no one in the drawing room and the hall was empty, too. Where was everyone? Usually, the castle was lively and full of servants and people. The one day she needed to find someone, quickly.
“Fionnghall!” she called again without getting a response.
She hurried off to the yard and the stables. If she couldn’t find her brother, she would need to find Jack or one of the men to go and fetch the physician.
“Jack! Are ye here?” she called as she ran into the barn.
“Deirdre? Where is the fire?” he asked surprised. Jack came from around the corner, wiping his hands on a dirty cloth.
“It… is… Marion,” she panted.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked, suddenly sharp in his eyes.
“She is very sick, we need the physician now,” Deirdre said, leaning onto her knees and trying to catch breath.
“Does Fionnghall know?” Jack asked and grabbed his horse’s bridle without asking any questions. He quickly bridled and saddled his horse with urgent movements.
“Nah, I couldnae find him,” she responded.
Jack mounted his horse.
“Go find him and let him know,” Jack ordered.
“Please, hurry,” Deirdre asked him.
Jack didn’t even look back. He hurried his horse into gallop and towards the gates. The horse’s hooves thumped against the ground and sent dirt flying.
Find Fionnghall…. I have to find him, Deirdre thought, still trying to catch her breath.
If he wasn’t in the drawing room or in the barn, where would he be? Deirdre quickly checked if his horse was in his stall. The big stallion was standing calmly in his stall, chewing hay and wondering about the commotion.
All right. What about the library?
She broke into a jog and ran back into the castle. Without taking a breath, she ran up the spiral staircase and passed Marion’s door. She felt a sharp pain in her heart, but she kept hurrying forwards.
As she reached the library door, she didn’t even knock. She opened the door and to her fortune, found Fionnghall sitting in his regular spot by the window, scribbling a letter. When Deirdre burst in through the door, he lifted his head.
“Whatever is the matter?” he asked, placing his quill down and standing up. He could clearly see the distress on Deirdre’s face.
Deirdre was so out of breath that all she could do was whisper.
“Marion…”
Fionnghall needed no more words.
“Has the physician been called?” he asked, his eyes focused on Deirdre’s concerned face.
“Aye, Jack went to get him,” she said shortly.
Fionnghall nodded and didn’t hesitate for a second as he ran out of the door.
Fionnghall ran up the hall towards Marion’s room. His heart felt like a block of ice. She had looked fine last night, feverish, but fine. What had happened overnight?
He opened the door into Marion’s room and saw Lady Brun kneeling next to Marion, dabbing her face with a white linen cloth. As Fionnghall entered, Lady Brun turned around and he could immediately see the worry on her face.
“How is she?” Fionnghall asked and hurried to her bed.
“She is cold and breathing very lightly. Oh, I am so concerned!” she replied and wiped away a stray tear off her face.
“The physician has been called,” Fionnghall replied absentmindedly, as he assessed Marion’s condition.
She looked very pale and unmoving. Fortunately, she had been covered up with a bunch of blankets. Her own blue tartan was on the top and Fionnghall saw the familiar initials in the corner of it.
It was chilly in the room and Fionnghall noticed that the fire was out. Quickly, he hurried to light the fire in the fireplace. In his mind, he was quietly cursing the servant whose turn it was to keep the fire going throughout the night in Marion’s room.
Whoever it is, their neck is going to get it when I find out.
He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. It hurt him deeply to see Marion in such a weak condition.
It was only last night he had been there with her. She was awake and lively, happy, even… What went wrong? Was it his fault? Had he been worrying too much?
Fionnghall’s hands shook as he finally got a spark to light up the dried leaves and pieces of wood. He forced himself to calm down and stand up. Lady Brun, Deirdre, and Marion would need his support and leadership.
Deirdre stepped into the room, her face more composed and calmer than before.
“What should I dae?” she asked Lady Brun.
“Help me sit her up better. It will help with her breathing,” she said and Deirdre nodded, walking around the bed to the other side.
“I will dae it,” Fionnghall said quickly.
Lady Brun stopped him by putting her hand up.
“Nah, Laird Fionnghall, I reckon it is better us women dae it,” she said.
Fionnghall crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t particularly enjoy being bossed around in his own castle, but he didn’t argue—she was Marion’s mother, after all.
The women helped unconscious Marion to sit up better and Deirdre covered every inch of her up to her neck.
Fionnghall was pacing around the room. There was nothing he could do right now but wait for the physician. Lady Brun was wiping down Marion’s face and Deirdre brushing her hair to pass time. Both of them kept a close eye on her.
It was all Laird Brun’s fault. Had he and his cursed daughter not appeared at Gille Chriost uninvited, Marion would be healthy. She never would have left. There never would have been such an incident that put Marion’s health at risk.
And Lady Beitris’ scene last night surely hadn’t helped. She had terrified Marion. The bottom line was that without Laird Brun and Lady Beitris, Marion wouldn’t be in danger.
He could not just stand idle in the room where Marion laid so helpless and sick. Lady Brun and Deirdre were taking care of Marion and she was in good hands.
Fionnghall exited the room without saying a word and headed to the drawing room. He poured himself a glass of whiskey. It was the same glass he had used the night before, celebrating together with Jack.
How mockingly the glass just stood there on the table, in the exact same spot where he had left it. The deck of cards was laid on the table, hands spread out revealing his winning cards from the last game.
Was God punishing him for loving Marion? He had taken advantage of Marion when he was engaged to Lady Beitris. He hadn’t even confessed his sins. It had been months since he had even seen a priest.
Fionnghall squeezed his hands into tight fists and slammed the table. Was this all his fault? He grabbed the glass and poured the whiskey down his throat in one gulp. It burned as it went down.
Deirdre sat helplessly next to Marion’s sickbed. The fire was now burning in the fireplace and the windows remained shut. Lady Brun had not left Marion’s side either. The whole day had gone by and neither of them had left the room once. Deirdre hadn’t seen Fionnghall since the morning, after he had stormed out of the door.
Though to an outsider, such behavior on his part could be viewed as cold-heartedness, Deirdre knew he stayed away because he couldn’t bear to see Marion like this.
Her condition hadn’t improved at all. She hadn’t even regained consciousness all day and Deirdre was growing more worried by the minute.
The pieces of her life had just begun to fall into place. She had found her mother, which is what she had come to Scotland to do in the first place. And against all odds, Fionnghall would be able to marry her. It seemed so unfair that Marion would fall ill—possibly dangerously ill.
Where was the physician? Jack had left to fetch him hours ago. The sun was already setting behind the horizon and there was no sign of him.
Deirdre heard small sobs coming from Lady Brun’s direction. She had been trying to hide her tears all day, but to Deirdre, these things didn’t go unnoticed. Lady Brun clearly wanted her not to notice, so she didn’t say anything.
Instead, she stood up and walked up to the window. The heat of the room had fogged up the glass and Deirdre wiped the fog off with her hand. From the window, she could see directly up the road that lead to the main gate.
At the same moment, she saw two figures approaching the castle at full speed. Two big horses left only a cloud of dust behind them as the riders approached the castle doors.
Now it was Deirdre’s turn to fly out of the door without warning. Lady Brun didn’t even react when Deirdre opened the door wide open. Deirdre floated down the stairs as fast as she could and her tiny feet barely touched the floor underneath her.
“Fionnghall!” she called just in case as she crossed the main hall. She didn’t know if he could hear her, but it was worth a try.
As she opened the front door to receive the physician and Jack, she heard the drawing room open behind her. Fionnghall leaned towards the door frame and Deirdre could see that his eyes were red.
“Is she…?” he started with a defeated voice.
“Nah, nah, the physician is here,” Deirdre interrupted and waved the men in.
“Show me the patient,” the old physician said as he entered the hall.
Fionnghall immediately snapped out of his daze and lead the physician up the stairs as fast as the physician’s old, crooked legs could carry him.
Jack stayed behind at the door with a worried look on his face. Deirdre didn’t go up yet.
“Thank ye, Jack, fer fetchin’ him,” she said and looked after her brother and the physician.
“Daenae mention it,” Jack replied simply.
It was quiet in the hall and Deirdre stood still with Jack by the door. The day had been long and she had been so worried for Marion that her mental and physical energy was spent. She bowed her head and burst into tears.
Jack put his arm around her shoulders and Deirdre buried her head into his chest. She cried from the bottom of her heart. Why was Marion trying to leave her?
Fionnghall watched as the old physician examined Marion thoroughly. Every now and then, he asked Lady Brun questions of Marion. If she had eaten, drank, slept, regained consciousness…
But Fionnghall barely heard these questions. He had spent his day in the drawing room with one glass of whiskey after another. He knew that drinking wasn’t the smart choice in this situation, but he couldn’t stand in the room doing nothing. There was nothing he could do but wait, and the pain of possibly losing Marion just as he had gotten her back was too much to bear. He had to numb it one way or another.
He leaned towards the fireplace and looked into the dancing flames. The room around him was spinning and he couldn’t keep his thoughts together.
The physician finally fell silent and he packed his bag. Fionnghall turned around and faced him.
“How is she?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound steady and calm, though he felt like the exact opposite inside.
The old physician sighed deeply and shook his head.
“She is nae well, ma Laird. There is no more that anyone can dae. It is up to her now to survive. Only time will tell,” he said.
Lady Brun’s lips trembled and she grabbed Marion’s hand. Fionnghall saw her shoulders shaking, though he didn’t hear any crying. The image of Lady Brun in front of him was the realization of exactly how he felt.
27
Reunion
Jack tried his best to convince Fionnghall that this wasn’t his fault. Though a small voice inside Fionnghall’s head agreed with Jack, that this wasn’t his fault, that it was Laird Brun’s fault, all of it, he kept shaking his head.
It was impossible for him to not blame himself, too.
“Ye are drunk,” Jack said, “go sleep it off. Ye will be much more help to Marion and Deirdre sober.”
“So what if I am drunk? What am I supposed to dae? I cannae stay in the room, nae with Marion—” he interrupted himself before finishing his sentence.
“Her parents will arrive soon, won’t they? Ye will nae make a very good first impression if ye are drunk. Now, sleep it off,” Jack ordered.
He fetched a cup of water and handed it to Fionnghall, who drank it reluctantly. He sighed and sat down on the couch of the drawing room.
He closed his eyes and the room started spinning around him. Trying to push away the image of pale Marion, he pressed his fingers to his temples. This was all much too unfair.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Go away,” Fionnghall yelled through the door.
“‘Tis Addair, me Lord, ye have a letter,” he said and Fionnghall groaned.
“I daenae care,” he said.
“‘Tis from England, me Lord,” Addair added and Fionnghall opened his eyes.
Jack opened the door to Fionnghall’s servant who stepped in, carrying a letter on a tray. Fionnghall reached out to grab the letter and he opened it quickly. It was short.
Laird of Gille Chriost.
We are delighted to have received your sister’s kind letter. We gladly accept your invitation to visit and are more than happy to hear that our daughter is safe.
We are looking forward to meeting you.
Warm regards,
Earl of Ackworth
Fionnghall read the letter slowly, as it was hard for him to focus his eyes on the words.
“Thank ye, Addair,” he mumbled and let the letter fall onto the floor as his eyes closed and he started snoring.
The morning had arrived fast and Fionnghall’s night had been dreamless. He was grateful for that. He snapped awake and made his way to Marion’s room. He knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation.
Both Deirdre and Lady Brun were asleep by Marion’s bed. Marion hadn’t moved since yesterday and it made Fionnghall very nervous.
Quietly, he placed his hand on Deirdre’s shoulder to wake her up. She rubbed her eyes and checked on Marion, coming to the same conclusion as Fionnghall.
“Go eat somethin’
and rest,” Fionnghall said, “I will stay here.”
Deirdre seemed too tired to argue, so she stood up and left. Fionnghall took her place and watched Marion as she breathed slowly in and out. It would be a terrible welcome to her parents, to see their daughter like this.
Captivating the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 24
