*
The morning sunlightspeared her eyes, and Emma sat up from their bed. Cormac was still sleeping, but she thought his face might be flushed again. She decided it was better if she gave him more time to sleep.
After she took a moment to gather her courage, it was time to face the duties she dreaded. Emma donned her dressing gown and went through the doorway to the adjoining bedchamber. After she closed the door behind her, she rang for a maid to help her dress. She still felt tired, but it was time to face the household.
When the maid arrived, Emma learned that her name was Darcy. Though Darcy seemed to be quite young, she insisted, “It’s glad I am to be your lady’s maid. I’ve been working nigh on two years at Dunmeath, and I’d much rather be here than a scullery maid.”
She helped Emma choose a day dress and remarked on the fabric. “Ooh, this is lovely, it is. The violet color will look well with your hair. And I know just the way to fix it for you.” Darcy helped Emma with her dress and then picked up a hairbrush. “We were all so surprised to learn of your marriage. Her ladyship, especially.”
“Lady Dunmeath didn’t seem very happy about it,” Emma admitted. She hoped Darcy would tell her more, and asked, “Had she chosen another bride for him?”
“Nay. His lordship has a curse upon him.” The maid paused, and from her motion, it appeared that she crossed herself. “Has he told you?”
“I know a little,” Emma answered. “But I should like to know more.”
“A terrible curse it is,” Darcy insisted. “One that ends in death. And some of the ladies around here were afraid they would die too if they married him, along with any babes they might conceive.” She paused a moment and asked, “Am I talking too much? Da says I do.”
“No, I want to know more about my husband,” Emma insisted. “Was he ever betrothed?”
“Lady Dunmeath was hoping that his lordship would be cured in London and would come back to wed Lady Eileen,” Darcy answered. “It would’ve been a good match.”
“But he wasn’t cured,” Emma admitted. “We still don’t know what’s causing his illness.”
“Oh, it’s the curse, to be sure. But no one knows how to break it. It could be that the faeries cursed his grandfather to lose all his sons and grandsons.” Darcy’s voice grew darker. “Every firstborn son has died. And it may be that you should wear an iron bracelet to protect you from the faeries. I’ll ask Cook to find you something.”
Though it was only superstition, Emma gave a nod, realizing that the maid truly believed this. “And you don’t think it’s an illness... or worse?” She didn’t want to mention the possibility of poison for fear of offending her.
Darcy continued brushing Emma’s hair and divided it into sections to braid. “Nay. But we all pray that the curse will be broken one day.” She moved the brush to her other hand and crossed herself again. “Lord Dunmeath is good to all of us. None wish him ill, and he takes care of everyone.”
“What about his cousin?” Emma ventured. “If something were to happen to the earl, he stands to inherit, does he not?”
Darcy laughed. “Lorcan could never manage Dunmeath, and well he knows it. Afraid of his own shadow, he is, along with the curse. And he does everything his wife wants.”
Though Darcy’s description didn’t make it sound as if Lorcan was a threat to Cormac, Emma couldn’t rule it out just yet. Nor even his wife. At the moment, she had to consider every threat.
Darcy finished with her hair and said, “There. You look beautiful, Lady Dunmeath.”
Though Emma couldn’t see her appearance, when she reached up to her hair, it seemed that the maid had pinned it up in a braided arrangement. She thanked Darcy and said, “I think I’ll go down for breakfast. Would you like to walk with me?” It was entirely a means of having a guide to the dining room, but she added, “I’d like to know more about you.”
Darcy seemed to brighten, and she readily agreed. “I’d be glad to tell you, my lady. I’ve six brothers and four sisters. The youngest was born last year...” She continued chattering on, making it easy for Emma to follow her down the hallway to the stairs.
Just as they reached the dining room, she could smell the delicious scent of eggs and sausage. But mingled in with the scent was the faint aroma of verbena.
Cormac’s mother was already there. Emma forced a smile on her face. “Good morning, Lady Dunmeath. May I join you?”
The dowager made a noncommittal sound, and the footman pulled out a chair for her before he brought Emma eggs, blood pudding, roasted tomatoes, and sausage. She helped herself, grateful that she managed to select food she couldn’t see without spilling it all over the floor. Then she asked the footman, “Could you have breakfast sent upstairs to Lord Dunmeath a little later?” She was about to mention that he was still asleep but then thought better of it.
“Cormac can ring for food himself when he’s wanting it,” the dowager remarked. Her tone made it clear that she didn’t approve of Emma’s suggestion.
A moment later, footsteps approached, and another woman entered the dining room. Her perfume smelled of lilacs, and she greeted Emma warmly. “Good morning. You must be Cormac’s new wife. I am Nuala Ó Falvey, Josephine’s sister.”
“It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Ó Falvey,” she answered. “Do you live nearby?”
“Oh, you may call me Nuala, or Aunt Nuala,” she offered. “And I live here. Or, at least, I have since my husband died years ago.”
It made Emma wonder if the woman’s husband had also been a victim of the same illness or whether it was an unrelated ailment.
“You’ll have to come and see my gardens after breakfast,” Nuala continued. “It’s late in the season, but I do have some flowers still blooming. Chrysanthemums and some late roses. I like to bring them into the house for some color.”
