The other maid looked at Ysenda with wide eyes. When it came to the maids in the kitchen, the cook was known to have strict rules for their morality.
The food in the storerooms was the most precious resource in the dead of winter. Those working in the stores could not be lacking in morality. Such would lead to bribes and poisoning.
And so it was proven. The cook was wise.
Ysenda shook her head, still denying her guilt.
“The midwife is waiting to inspect ye both,” Brom declared. “As unwed lasses, ye should be maidens.”
The second maid instantly looked relieved. Brom pointed at her and then at the door. She went with only a little wrinkle on her nose for what was ahead of her. Brom returned his gaze to Ysenda.
“Fingal has deserted ye, lass. Gone under the cover of darkness.”
Ysenda gasped, betraying her guilt. Brom nodded to confirm the truth of his words. “He’s left ye here to suffer the laird’s vengeance.”
At last, Ysenda turned pale. Brom eyed the girl for a long moment. He made a point of looking at the goblet. When he lifted his gaze, Ysenda was looking at him.
“Ye will stay here until the laird tells me what to do with ye,” Brom informed her gruffly.
Brom headed toward the door. He turned and looked at Ysenda before he closed the door. “Diarmuid is the laird’s only surviving child. Do nae waste yer time praying for heaven to intervene by having the laird be merciful toward ye.”
Brom shut the door in Ysenda’s horrified face.
“Ye are leaving her with the cider?” the cook asked. “Why? An example should be made of her.”
Brom shook his head. “The example will be made. Once it is known that Fingal abandoned his lover without a thought, none of the other girls will be so easily duped. I know the laird, he will not have compassion for that girl. But I can offer her some mercy and spare myself and me men the task of carrying out the laird’s orders.”
“And if she does not drink the cider?” the cook asked.
Brom felt his expression harden. “Ye will get the example ye asked for.”
Laird Keith was very pleased when Brom reported to him.
“Fingal…a weasel in a family of wolves.” Errol snorted. “As for the maid, she must answer for what she did.”
There was a cold note in the laird’s tone. He pushed back from the desk. “I want to see her.”
Brom followed his laird back to the storerooms. He slid the bar from where it had the door secure. Ysenda looked up at them but there was no horror on her face, just resignation.
A quick look at the table told Brom that she’d consumed the cider.
It was a much better way to go than what Laird Keith was detailing.
“Make sure ye lock the door, Brom,” Laird Keith instructed. “Make sure this villainess is here when it’s time for her to pay for her crimes.”
Brom nodded. Errol left, his footsteps fading down the passageway. Ysenda looked at Brom.
“Ye were kind to me,” she muttered breathlessly.
“I was kind to me men, who would have been ordered to make yer death a painful one.
She nodded slowly before wilting to the floor, her breathing labored. Brom retrieved the goblet and pitcher before he closed the door. The culprit was dealt with.
It was better to move on to happier days.
*
The trees werestarting to change color. In the fields, the first of the harvest was starting to be brought in. But Ailsa wasn’t tempted by any of the fare. She went running for the garderobe the moment she rose, prompting Diarmuid to send for an experienced matron.
