“Ah, really? For once?” Grinning at Alun, Conall gave him a small bow.
“Aye, about Lady MacLachlan,” Alun continued, ignoring his brother-in-arms, the two of them always verbally sparring. “You canna leave her locked up like a prisoner, Gabriel. She’s more a willful child than a madwoman that would do anyone harm.”
“Except when she kicks,” Finlay interjected, looking pointedly at Gabriel. “I saw how close you came tae ruin again last week when her foot caught you near the groin. I say leave the lass in her room until she’s learned her lesson.”
“What lesson might that be?” Alun snorted, clearly not convinced. “Do you think she even remembers what happens from day tae day? Everyone knows she’s not right in the head. What did she do that was so awful? Howled like a dog? Dumped food on herself?”
“Took off running for the gates,” Gabriel said under his breath, the unexpected discussion of Magdalene irritating him more than anything. “Enough, the lot of you! Are you my captains or clucking chickens? Let’s get back tae training. Robert the Bruce and his men might be heading north and I’ll have us ready for them—”
“Laird MacLachlan, a word if you please!”
Gabriel groaned at the sight of Clovis holding up his ankle-length tunic and hurrying across the bailey, the man’s legs as skinny as the rest of him. With a brusque wave that his captains and forty men-at-arms continue on without him, he strode toward the healer.
Odd, though. Clovis wasn’t one to spend much time outside, the pale-skinned fellow preferring to remain indoors unless he was called upon to treat an injury. What could be so important to bring him out into the blazing sunshine? Clovis might not approve of Gabriel training so vigorously, but he wasn’t one, either, to insist that his advice be heeded—och, no, was it something mayhap to do with Magdalene?
Struck by sudden concern that rocked him with its intensity, Gabriel caught up with the man and grabbed a bony arm.
“Clovis?”
“It’s all very peculiar, really, but I knew I must mention it tae you, Laird.”
“Mention what? Is aught amiss?”
“Oh, aye, your lady’s not eating—no, not for a day or two. Donella summoned me an hour past tae have a look at her, and it’s not the only time in the past week. First tae tend tae her feet again—”
“Her feet? Are they still plaguing her?”
“A wee bit, aye, but they’re much better than before. Her bruises are fading, too—no, it was something else I noticed, though it took me a few times attending tae her until I was certain.”
“Certain ofwhat, man?” Gabriel demanded, letting go of Clovis’s arm when he saw the man wince. “Forgive me, I didna mean tae hurt you, but if it’s something serious—”
“No, not serious. A good thing for you and your bride, I would think. She’s not a lunatic, Laird. Just very unhappy. Tae refuse food for two days—”
“Not a lunatic?” Gabriel stared almost dumbly at the healer, feeling as if everything had grown very still around him. In truth, he had pondered the same thing himself since the debacle a week past—something about the tears springing to her eyes that had so struck him—but to hear Clovis say the words and to see him firmly shaking his head…
“No, not at all. She’s despondent, aye, but no less sane than any of us. It’s a wonder, really, that she feigns madness so convincingly—but not enough tae fool me. How long did she live at the convent?”
“Four years,” Gabriel murmured, still so stunned that he didn’t know what to ask first. “Her father sent her tae Dumbarton after Maggie went mad just like her mother.”
“Hmm, mayhap the mother’s lunacy was true, and then the daughter mimicked her…but why would Lady MacLachlan do such a thing?”
Realization dawning upon Gabriel, bits of thoughts and wonderings coming together like a puzzle in his mind, he had only one word for the healer. “Debora.”
“Debora?”
“Aye, my wife’s older sister. She was wed tae a monster whose cruelty drove her to an early grave.”
“Ah, so it’s fear, then.” Shaking his head, the healer sighed heavily. “Mayhap impossible tae overcome…unless you change your ways with your new bride, Laird. No wonder she refuses tae eat, poor wee lass.”
Poor wee lass. Sister Therese had intoned those very words so many times that Gabriel had lost count during the journey to fetch Magdalene…and it seemed he had confirmed his wife’s worst fear.
That she would find herself wed to a cruel monster just like her sister, Debora—for so she must think of him, he had no doubt! No wonder she’d feigned madness in an attempt to avoid such a fate.
Feigned madness! Gabriel still could almost not believe it, though everything seemed so clear to him now.
Her escapade in the fountain…aye, she must have led those nuns on a merry chase the entire time she had lived at the convent to ensure that none would doubt her lunacy.
Most times acting like the sweetest child, just like Sister Agnes had said…until a wildness overcame her as Gabriel had seen over and over again. She’d done all of those crazy, impetuous antics so he wouldn’t doubt her lunacy, either!
