She carefully laid out the angelica root, some thoughtfully placed aside to be shared with Matthew precisely as she’d always planned, and some ready to be brewed for her sister in the morning. Then she peeked into Violet’s room, waiting in the doorway until she saw her sister’s chest rise and fall.
After banking the hearth and stripping out of her clothes, she collapsed into bed, already trying to puzzle out how to politely visit the Laird next and explain having left her escort standing alone on the road.
When Violet woke the next morning, Hannah was already steeping the tea, eager to see a benefit from the herb, even though she knew realistically that herbs rarely worked instantly. This didn’t stop her from desperately wanting to be sure it was worth it to have promised a day’s travel every week for the next month.
Violet emerged from the darkness of her bedroom into the main room lit by sunlight streaming through open shutters and a stoked hearth. She had dark circles around her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping at all in the night.
She paused for a moment and shrugged her shawl up over her shoulders a bit more, before dropping herself into her favorite seat at the table wordlessly. Her face was even more pale than it had been the day before, her hair mussed and lanky, the chestnut that had been so lustrous just a few years ago gone dull.
Hannah drew a long breath and forced herself to smile at her sister. “Good morning.”
“Mmm,” Violet muttered without meeting her eyes fully. From the look on her face, she had only come out to show proof of life. She didn’t seem interested in even pretending to go about her day.
Hannah felt a twinge of pain in her chest at seeing her sister struggling so much. She stood and made her way to the hearth, tipping the teapot to fill a cup before bringing it back to the table. She sat beside her sister and rested her hand on her shoulder.
“Here.” She held out the cup.
Violet retched immediately, recoiling. “I daenae want tea. I’ve had enough of trying to have tea. It doesnaehelp.”
She didn’t even have the energy to hold the cup and pretend to sip from it. That much was evident from the expression on her face and the lack of even an attempt to hide her frayed temper.
Hannah tried very, very hard to be patient and tasted the tincture, surprised to realize the medicinal but somewhat sweet herb had grown bitter during boiling, and the honey she’d added to the tea had done nothing to help. She wasn’t overly familiar with angelica, and supposed she had been overly bold simply steeping it the same as tea leaves.
“Alright.”
Without trying to fight her sister, she stood, grabbed a bowl, and filled it with the water remaining in the teapot. Then she placed a dram glass within and grabbed the nearest whiskey bottle, adding a generous amount to the glass.
She returned to the table and set the bowl down as she sat, letting the whiskey warm. If Violet wouldn’t try a tea, perhaps she’d tolerate a simple cordial instead.
It seemed a bit disingenuous to use whiskey to calm an upset stomach, but Hannah hoped it would warm her sister’s belly enough to help her keep the herb down.
“Where did ye go yesterday?” Violet broke the silence as she watched Hannah begin shaving the angelica with careful hands and a sharp knife. “What is that?”
“Nowhere special,” Hannah responded. “It’s angelica root. For yer stomach.”
“Ye’re a liar, Hannah Leon, and ye ken it. Ye would tell me if it was nowhere special.”
Damn her for always being right.
Of course, she couldn’t lie well to Violet.
I have to tell her. It would be wrong to withhold something like this from her. She’s me sister, after all.
“I went to see our Laird,” Hannah blurted, steeling herself and squaring her shoulders.
She looked up almost pleadingly, daring her sister to have something to say about it. Almost hoping she would because it would be nice to see something more than defeat in eyes that used to be so full of life.
Aye, Sister, look at me. Think about it. Think about what I’ve done to keep ye alive. Think on how much ye mean to me, and let it fire up yer spark of life once more. Please, Sister. Please.
“Laird MacBain?” Violet gasped, and Hannah briefly regretted her honesty as she watched her pale just a little more. “Ye met him? Was he hideous? Did he?—”
“He didnae hurt me, nor was he especially uncouth,” Hannah interrupted and drew the mortar and pestle before her, adding the shaved herb.
There was a moment of silence as she focused on raising and lowering the pestle, twisting it to crush the herb as thoroughly as she could and break it fully apart. When she was finished, she added it to the warmed whiskey to steep. She had deliberately misinterpretedhideous, as she wasn’t about to admit the man was the most handsome she’d ever met.
“I would say he was kind.” She spoke it with full confidence that she didn’t feel.
Secretly, she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d reminded her of a fox cornering a rabbit, the way he’d loomed as he whispered his threat to hunt her down if she failed to arrive the next week as promised. She didn’t believe it would benefit Violet to hearthat. Even worse, one of the first things she’d done was tell him exactly where to find her, so it wouldn’t even be difficult for the man to make good on his threat.
