Moira’s eyes widened as she quickened her digging. “’Tis another chest. Bigger than the last.”
“Aye,” Errol agreed, looking at her with a huge grin on his face. “Ye did it, Lass.”
She smiled. “Nay,wedid it, Errol.”
It took some time for them to uncover the breadth of the chest. It was much bigger than the smaller one they had found earlier. Their chests were heaving with exertion as they finally finished digging around the intricately carved trunk.
“It looks heavy.” Moira wasn’t sure how they could lift it from its resting place.
“I believe we will need to open it from there and remove the items inside afore we can lift it out.”
She nodded. That made sense. It was too deep to grasp it well and lift it out with it being so heavy.
Errol pointed to the clasp. “Go ahead,” he urged. “’Tis yer treasure to uncover. Open the lid.”
With her fingers on the latch, she paused, her eyes meeting Errol’s once again. “What do ye think is inside.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Naught of what we have found so far was aught that I would have expected, so I cannae e’en guess as to what is inside. Mayhap some more coin. Mayhap some more carved figurines. I dinna ken. But one thing I am for certs is inside.”
“What?”
“Another letter.”
“Ah,” she nodded with a smile. “I bet ye are right.” With that, she pulled on the latch, surprised that it gave way and opened without out too much resistance. Lifting the lid, her breath quickened as she revealed a painstakingly embroidered handkerchief. Like the paintings and carvings they had found, the needlepoint also told a story. She lifted it carefully, sitting on the forest floor and spread it out over her lap so she could look at the pictures depicted in the delicate threading.
Instead of multiple scenes like the previous clues they had found, on the handkerchief, in fine gold threading, was one large picture. Once again, the Harts and MacLeods were represented, no longer as one unit, but on their separate sides much like the first painting. Depicted on the side of the MacLeods was a grave with a young lad standing near. The grave had to be for Thomas. The lad Angus. On the land separating the two clans, was a small coffin, which Moira guessed was to depict Agnes. On the Hart side stood Fiona. Alone. Her clan members had their backs turned to her. In essence shunning her.
Moira swiped at a tear that slipped down her cheek. The scene broke her heart. Fiona had lost everything. Her husband. Her daughter. Her son. Her home. Even her clan. Moira couldn’t imagine the pain she went through. The poor woman had no one to lean on and offer a kind gesture.
In the right-hand corner, there was one final picture sewn with red thread. The cliffs they’d ridden to were there, and a woman, which had to be Fiona, was falling through the air, halfway between the cliffs and rocky water below.
Moira gasped, as she brought her hand to her mouth, horror at the realization of what the picture meant.
Errol moved to her side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “What is it?”
She met his gaze. His brows were drawn down in concern. “’Tis Fiona. She jumped from the cliffs.”
Chapter Nineteen
Moira’s face wasstricken with what they had unveiled. She had grown quite close to Fiona over their journey even though she’d never met the woman. Errol could understand. The trials and tribulations the woman had gone through in her young life, depicted throughout the items they’d uncovered, was more than anyone should have to experience.
Multiple times, Moira had stated she did not want to read on to discover whatever tragic ending the family had met. Kenning they needed to continue hadn’t changed her mind.
But with that knowledge, neither of them could have guessed the horrors the family had endured.
He held her while she sobbed into his tunic, wetting the linen with her tears. Distraught for the endured tragedy of a woman she had never met. Her heart was huge and welcoming. Her capacity to love was unending.
Stroking her back with gentle swipes of his hand, Errol let Moira cry until she had no more tears and she pushed away from him, sniffling.
“She deserved so much more. They all did.”
“Aye.” He tipped her chin to him so he could look in her eyes. “’Tis why we are here. To right the wrongs that were done to them.” This time, when Errol said, he believed it. The journey wasn’t aboutthe treasure. It was about fixing the past and mending the rift betwixt the clans.
She nodded. Biting her lip. “Thank ye.”
Confusion overcame him. “For what?”
“Letting me have a cry. I ken ’tis no’ something ye fancy—having a women cry all over ye.”
