“How do ye ken where to find Francine?” I whispered to James.
“Because she always cleans my chamber about now,” he replied. “’Tis her usual task each morning.”
A servant girl appeared suddenly from a side passage, and James pulled me roughly into an alcove, his body shielding mine from view. My pulse roared in my ears as we waited, frozen in place, until the girl’s footsteps faded down the corridor. James released his grip on my arm with a small nod of apology, and we pressed on.
Finally, we reached a heavy oak door which James pushed open without knocking. Inside, a young woman with mousy brown hair tied back in a simple kerchief was polishing a wooden table, the rhythmic sound of her cloth moving across the surface filling the otherwise quiet room. At our entrance, she startled badly, nearly dropping her cleaning rag as she spun to face us.
“James!” she exclaimed, smiling as her gaze fell on him, but her smile faded as she noticed me. “What’s afoot?”
James closed the door firmly behind us, and I stepped forward, careful to keep my movements slow and unthreatening. “We need to ask ye about Lady Isabella,” I said, watching her face closely.
At Isabella’s name, the color drained from Francine’s cheeks, and her hands began to tremble. James and I exchanged a quick look.
“What do ye need to ask me about?” she said, her voice shaky like her hands.
“Ye were there when her son was born,” James pressed, moving to stand beside me. “Ye assisted Lady Magdalene.”
Francine’s gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders hunching inward. “I, I barely recall the day,” she mumbled, but I knew the lie for what it was. She was fearful and covering the truth.
“Francine,” I said, stepping closer until I could see the fine tremor in her eyelashes as she blinked rapidly. “We ken the bairn was nae stillborn. Did ye hear the child cry?”
Her head jerked up at that, lips parted, and nostrils flared. “Nay, I—I did nae hear anything. The bairn was stillborn. That’s what Lady Magdalene said.” Her gaze darted toward the door again. “Please, I must finish my work. The housekeeper will be angry if—”
“We can protect ye from her,” James interrupted, his voice low but firm. “But we need the truth. What happened that day?”
Francine shook her head frantically, tears welling in her eyes. “I can nae. She’ll have me cast out. My family depends on me.”
“Lady Magdalene threatened ye?” I asked gently.
A tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by another. “Please,” she whispered. “Do nae ask this of me.”
James moved closer, his expression somber. “Francine, I swear by all I hold dear that nae harm will come to ye or yer family if ye speak the truth now. As the laird’s oldest friend, I give ye my word.”
Something in his tone must have reached her, for she stilled, her frightened eyes searching his face. After a long moment, she drew a shuddering breath and nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.
“I was in the birthing chamber,” she began, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear her. “Lady Magdalene sent me away as the bairns started to come, but I did nae leave. I, well, I lovedLady Isabella, and I wanted to be there in case she needed me, so I lingered just outside her door, in the outer chamber. I was there when I heard the bairn’s first cry.” She swallowed hard, her hands now wringing the cloth as if trying to wring truth from it. “It was weak but clear. A living child’s cry.”
I exchanged another glance with James, seeing my own horror reflected in his eyes. If the child had lived, if Isabella had been right all along…
“Lady Magdalene found me there when she came rushing out of the door in search of something,” Francine continued, her voice dropping even lower, forcing us to lean in to hear her. “She snatched me by the arm and told me if I did nae do exactly as she said, she would ensure I was driven from the clan lands with only the clothes on my back. And I would nae ever see my family again.” Tears flowed freely now, streaking down her pale cheeks. “I believed her.”
“What happened to the bairn?” James asked, his voice tight with controlled rage.
Francine shook her head. “I do nae ken. Lady Magdalene sent me from the outer chamber to fetch fresh linen, and when I returned, Isabella was sleeping from the draught Lady Magdalene had given her, and Lady Magdalene held a bundle wrapped in cloth. She told me the bairn had been stillborn and that was all I needed to ken or say when anyone asked.” Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen with tears, met mine. “But I swear by all that’s holy, I heard that child cry.”
James patted her on the shoulder as she sniffled. “’Tis fine, lass,” he said, soothingly. “Go to yer bedchamber. I’ll come fetch ye to speak with Munro soon.”
“My laird will nae ever forgive me,” she whispered.
I didn’t know what Munro would do, but I gave her a quick hug. “Ye will tell him yer story, and he will have mercy.”
As soon as she scurried from the room, I turned to James. “He will have mercy, will nae he?” I asked.
James scrubbed a hand over his face. “Aye, he will in that she’ll keep her head, but Murieall, she lied, and that lie may have contributed to Isabella’s death.”
I shivered at that. “But what of her family, who needs her?”
“Munro is nae a monster,” James said. “He’ll see reason, and understand she was threatened and scared, but I can nae say if he’ll allow her to stay. If he does nae, I will personally see to her family’s welfare, though I imagine he would as well.”
