12
Despite her earlier threat, the truth was that Isla did not relish the idea of telling her father any of what Margaret had spoken of. The idea of it all was simply too horrible for her to confront, let alone bring herself to repeat.
But what else could she do? Sit alone with such a thing? Keep it to herself? What if Margaret was coming up with new duplicities and manipulations to get her way?
Except that is not what honestly concerns you, is it?a nagging voice spoke up within her.You know, deep inside, that Margaret has been a good and loyal friend to you. You know that she is a kind and gracious person, not the type who is prone to engage in such bad behavior or deception. Other servant girls within the castle are capable of being petty in these ways, but there has never been any evidence of that from her. And why would she invent a story so outlandish?
No, you do not wish to bring such matters to your father’s attention because you fear that in doing so, you will see something in his reaction which will confirm Margaret’s version of events.
Isla tried to convince herself that this idea was ludicrous. She told herself that she was simply being silly and trying to come up with reasons to avoid the inevitable confrontation.
She could not make up her mind about what to do.
Finally, she reached a decision.
She would speak with Brodie. She would tell him what had transpired and see what he had to say about it. He may not have been her preferred prospect in terms of a potential husband, but he still seemed to be a reasonable person. Not only that, but his perspective would be unbiased. And if he felt that there might be merit to Margaret’s claims after all, then Isla could make a more informed choice in terms of her next course of action.
Isla went to her father’s study and found the door open. Brodie’s two servants were inside with her father.
“Father?” she asked. “What is going on? I came down to ask if you knew where I might find Brodie.”
“He’s easy enough to find!” Maxwell insisted. “Simply go to the larder! He told me that he was hungry and wanted some bread and cheese!”
“Do not be daft!” Magnus retorted. “I have told you already, Brodie is bathing in the stream! And I would advise you not to disturb him until he returns on his own, for he can be most choleric when his ablutions have been interrupted!”
“Enough!” Seamus thundered, slamming his fist upon the table hard enough to make both men jump. “It has become clear that neither of ye know where yer master truly is, which makes him entirely unaccounted for. And it makes the pair of ye utterly useless to me, as near as I can tell! Away with ye!”
The two men exchanged a glance, shrugged, and then left the room. Seamus furrowed his brow, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Where in heaven’s name could the lad have disappeared to? Surely he would not have had a change of heart and fled his responsibilities here, having stolen yer maidenhead from ye?”
“But what if he has, Father?!” Isla wailed. “What if he has abandoned me in this state? I am no longer a virgin! Who will want to marry me now?!”
“Hush, my sweet daughter,” Seamus consoled her. “We will sort all of this out, ye shall see.”
Then Isla could no longer keep it all inside. She told her father everything that Margaret had spoken of and watched as his expression grew stormy and troubled with each passing word. As she did, she saw no evidence in his eyes that there was even a bit of truth to it.
Unless you simply do notwishto see it, that damnable voice inside of her piped up.
“Have ye seen Margaret since she recited this…ridiculous fable?” Seamus inquired.
Isla shook her head miserably. “What if they have run off together, Father?”
“Then that would be all the proof ye need to know that the wretched maid was lying to ye,” he answered. “Clearly, she would have said anything—no matter how far-fetched or slanderous—if it meant she might have the chance to steal yer groom away from ye. She might have gotten that bottle from anywhere and concocted any sort of story that came into her wee empty head.”
“You are right, of course,” Isla sniffled. “Oh, I cannot believe she would betray me so!”
“There is a sad lesson to be gleaned from all this, my dear,” Seamus said, embracing her comfortingly. “One that, alas, I learned for myself long ago: We may enjoy the company of our servants, but we must never mistake them for our friends or family. They are like certain temperamental breeds of dog. Loyal one moment, then snapping at yer hand the next. Now go to yer room and lie down, and leave everything to me. I shall get to the bottom of it right enough.”
Isla left, and Seamus was alone with his thoughts.
The first thing he did was check under the chair, where he had last placed the bottle in order to hide it. Sure enough, it was missing.
Damn!
Ever since Margaret had been promoted to maid, the servant girl who tended to Seamus’s study had been instructed on which areas to clean and which to leave alone. By rights, the bottle should still have been there.
So Margaret had taken it, then, just as she had told Isla.
The fact that the lass had been closely acquainted with Morna when she was a child was news to Seamus—and unwelcome news at that. Any other servant would not have been able to identify where the bottle had come from or the nature of its contents.
