11
Margaret slept poorly that night from worry about her fate, and for the rest of the day, it was almost impossible for her not to dwell on the uncertainty of her future. She had been barred from all of her usual tasks since Isla did not wish to see her, and so she had little to do but wander the castle and consider what might befall her if Isla chose to dismiss her.
She tried to make conversation with the other servants here and there to take her mind off her predicament, and in doing so, she learned that one of them—Eilidh, the girl who generally cleaned Seamus’s study—was feeling poorly that day. Wanting to make herself useful (and distract herself from her woes), Margaret volunteered to take up Eilidh’s duties so the girl could get some proper rest.
Margaret went to Seamus’s study and got to work, dusting the furniture and scrubbing the floors. It was mindless work, and unfortunately, it did not do much to take her mind off her dilemma.
Until, in cleaning beneath Seamus’s chair, she found a tiny brown bottle.
She reached for it, intending to check whether it had been emptied of its contents—and to dispose of it if it had—but as she did, she could not help but notice that the bottle seemed strangely familiar to her.
Margaret held it up to the light, examining it. There was still liquid swirling around inside, she saw. And when she uncorked it, the acrid smell that assaulted her nostrils made her recall where she had seen such a thing before.
When she had been a small child growing up on Fergus’s farm, the neighboring property had belonged to a healer named Morna. She was somewhat mysterious in her ways, and Margaret got the sense that most of the people in the village feared and shunned her, thinking her to be a witch.
For her part, though, Margaret had never been afraid of Morna. The woman had always shown her kindness and had frequently invited her to come and learn about the herbs and concoctions that she used to conduct her healing rituals. Different colors of candles and types of incense were used to invoke the spirits that would assist in such matters, and Morna showed her how to brew potions and make poultices.
There had been many such bottles lining Morna’s shelves, and those that contained the same bitter-smelling fluid that was in this one had been used to induce a senseless state that would relieve ailing people of feeling and consciousness—the better for Morna to reset broken bones or carry out other painful and difficult procedures. If the liquid were administered properly, the person would wake devoid of all memory of agony.
Devoid of all memory, Margaret thought,after an induced stupor. Where would Seamus have found such a thing? And what use would he have for it?
The answer came almost immediately, even though Margaret could scarcely believe it.
Seamus could be a gruff man, surely. Quick-tempered at times. Stubborn and pigheaded, yes. But Margaret had always known him to be a good man and a loving father to all of his daughters. Their happiness had always been paramount to him, from what Margaret could tell.
The evidence at hand, however, was overwhelming.
Both Isla and Brodie had been drinking in Seamus’s study that night, and even if neither of them had a high tolerance for such things, the fact remained that a few sips would not have been enough to rob them of their consciousness or memories of the evening’s events.
Unless, of course, their drinks had included a few drops from a potion such as this one.
From there, it would be a simple matter to arrange the pair of them naked in bed together and even to plant a dot of blood on the sheets to make them think the worst when they awoke.
Then no one involved would be in any position to object to the wedding whether they truly wished to go through with it or not, would they?Margaret mused uneasily.Thinking that Brodie had unwittingly robbed Isla of her maidenhead, both would be forced to marry each other for propriety’s sake.
These were dark and ugly thoughts, and Margaret hadn’t the first clue what to do with them. Seamus was the master of the house. The only one whose rank exceeded his was Laird Malcolm, and what reason would he have to believe the word of a maid over that of his own brother?
Telling the other servants would do no good. They would surely believe her, but they would be in no position to aid her.
No, there was only one person she could confide in—one person who, against all odds, might possibly accept her theory as the truth and act upon it.
Even so, it was a confrontation she devoutly dreaded.
She trudged up the stairs of the castle, her legs feeling heavier with each step. She knew that it would hurt Isla to learn such things about her own father, and she hated to be the bearer of such news. But then, would it not also mean that her purity remained unsullied? Would those glad tidings outweigh discovering Seamus’s villainy?
Margaret desperately hoped so.
She knocked on the door of Isla’s bedchamber hesitantly. Isla opened it, looking at her balefully. “Could you truly not give me even one day of peace?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Must you torment me so when all I ask is to be left alone today?”
“I apologize,” Margaret told her, “but I have discovered something pertaining to our current situation. Something which I felt I must show you at once, as it might affect your deliberations.”
“Very well, then I suppose you must come in.” Isla allowed her in reluctantly, shutting the door behind her. “What is it?”
The maid produced the bottle. “I found this beneath the chair in your father’s study. I recognized it from my youth when I used to spend afternoons with Morna, the healer at the edge of the MacLeod lands.”
Isla’s expression darkened. “Yes, I have heard of Morna. It is said that her ineffective ministrations were the reason my uncle lost his wife and infant. Some believe her to be an evil enchantress. To this day, the sound of her name is unwelcome in this place. What of her?”
“She has a collection of such bottles,” Margaret explained. Clearly, the mention of Morna had not been an auspicious start to this conversation. Still, all she could do now was press on and hope for the best. “They contain a powerful sedative used to put people into a deep sleep. When they awake, they have little or no memory of the time directly before they were dosed with it.”
