Chapter Twenty-Four

Maisie was reeling. Her heart was split in two, and she could hardly catch her breath. She sat on her bed with her head between her knees, knowing she needed to get dressed. Laird Stewart and the other man would come in shortly to take her down to the courtyard and send her and Father Ollie away. Graeme was not coming back, and he would not be there when she rode away. She’d seen him harden himself to her as he stood before her, and she couldn’t blame him. She understood how it looked.

Eliza had lied to her. The shock of it was numbing. Her sister had lied to her, and Maisie trusted and loved Eliza so much that she had not suspected a thing. It made her stomach turn, and the nausea rose swiftly within her when she thought of the breach of trust, of sisterhood. And when she thought of Eliza telling Aidan and the two of them riding off to Bernard’s cottage to kill him, Maisie cried out, raced to the wash basin, and lost the contents of her stomach.

Behind her, the bedchamber door creaked, and she whipped around to see Eppie entering the room. She closed the door without taking her eyes off Maisie, and all Maisie could think was that Graeme had been right. There was no reason for Aidan to have killed Bernard other than to keep the truth of what Brody had done from coming to light. Maisie turned back to the wash basin and was sick again and again. Tears streamed down her face, and she trembled violently.

Suddenly, her hair was being pulled off her neck, and Eppie said, “Tell me what ye did.”

“It was nae me,” she croaked. “I—” She swallowed against the need to be sick once more. “I did nae ken or I would have said something.”

“Ye did nae ken what?” Eppie asked.

Maisie turned slowly toward Eppie, who was staring at her, reserved. “Two days ago, when I awoke, Eliza was gone from my bedchamber where we both fell asleep. I left my room, thinking to go to the great hall to see if she was there, but I saw her at the end of the passageway with her ear pressed to Laird Stewart’s door. I questioned her, and she admitted to eavesdropping, but she said she did nae hear where Bernard was because I’d interrupted. I believed her!” Maisie wailed, doubling over with a piercing pain in her side. “She’s my sister!” Maisie set her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath, but it was impossible.

“Eliza must have told Aidan,” she pressed on. “She—she thinks she’s in love with him, and she must have told him hoping to win his favor. And then they must have ridden straight there. I dunnae want to believe my brother kenned ye and Graeme were imprisoned at Inverie, but Graeme was right. There kinnae be any other explanation for why Aidan would have ridden straight to Bernard and killed him. I—I’m going to be sick again.” Maisie fell to her knees. Eppie’s quick footfalls echoed in the room and then the wash basin was being shoved under Maisie’s face as she began to retch yet again. When she was finished, she sat up, and Eppie squatted in front of her, thrusting a wine skin at her.

“Drink this to calm yerself. Ye will have to prepare to leave. There will nae be any getting through to Graeme this night and mayhap for many to come.”

“Ye believe me?” Maisie gasped.

“Aye, lass, I do. But ’tis easier for me because I dunnae love ye as Graeme clearly does.”

“He does nae love me. He did nae give me the words when I gave them to him.”

“Dunnae be a fool,” Eppie snapped and held out her hand to help Maisie up. “The only way a person can be hurt as greatly as Graeme is if the pain comes from someone they love. He made himself vulnerable to ye, and he thinks ye betrayed him. He will nae soon forgive himself or ye.”

“Mayhap he nae ever will,” Maisie said, tears streaming down her face as Eppie guided her into her gown.

“I do nae ken, Maisie. I wish I could tell ye he will see reason in time, but I do nae ken that he will for certain.” A knock came at the door, and Eppie hugged her to her as she began to cry. The older woman pressed her lips to Maisie’s ear. “I will try to do what I can, but ye must try, too. If ye can get yer brother to admit the truth and confess to the king... well, I do nae see how Graeme could then deny ye were loyal to him above all.”

“I will do my best,” Maisie said as her bedchamber door opened and grim warriors she’d never seen before filed in to take her away.

The Stewart warriors rid themselves of Maisie and Father Ollie the moment they reached Campbell land. Maisie looked at the long trek to the bridge that led to her home and burst into tears. She’d held them in for two days, not wanting to cry in front of the Stewart warriors, and she had not been without a guard the entire journey. They had watched her as if she were a danger to them, and they had kept her and Father Ollie apart. At night, she could hear the priest laughing with them around the campfire as she’d lain cold and hungry in her shelter.

But now that she was alone and Father Ollie was beside her, she was finally overcome, and she wept incoherently as he patted her back and asked her what was the matter and why they had been sent away. It was only then that she realized no one had explained anything to the priest, and she let the entire sad, horrid tale pour out of her.

“And now we are home, and it does nae feel safe haven anymore,” she said. “And I love Graeme, but he will likely nae ever believe or trust me again. And I kinnae forgive Eliza! How am I to face her?”

“Well—”

“’Tis hopeless,” she sobbed. “I dunnae have any way to ever ken the truth,” she finished on a muffled sob.

“What was that last bit ye said, lass? I did nae hear ye.”

She repeated it loudly for Father Ollie, and he nodded. “I wish I could be of help, but I do nae see how I can.”

“Let us just start the journey home,” she said, almost too weary to walk. To think she had to face Eliza and her brother when they reached the stronghold... she did not think she could muster the strength this night, but when she got to the castle, she discovered Eliza and Aidan had yet to return and Brody was already abed. Worried for where Eliza and Aidan could be, yet glad not to have to face Brody yet, she parted ways with Father Ollie, trudged up to her bedchamber, stripped off her gown, washed, and climbed into bed.

She had no more than shut her eyes when a pounding came at her door, and her stomach twisted with worry. “Maisie, ’tis Father Ollie!”

Maisie scrambled out of bed and opened her door to find the priest clutching a satchel. She frowned as she looked at him, as he was quirking his mouth back and forth.

He inhaled a long breath and said, “I’m an imperfect sinner, lass.”

“I beg yer pardon?”

Father Ollie thrust the satchel at her. “Some time ago, I found these missives written between yer da and yer eldest brother.” Maisie gaped at the priest. “I used to be the one responsible for all missives. These somehow got missed, and when I discovered them later, I hid them because I kenned yer da would be angry. When ye mentioned wishing ye could find proof of the truth, it tugged at my old mind, but I could nae recall why. But when I got to my bedchamber, it hit me—the missives! They may have some information that could aid ye. The moment I got to my bedchamber, I withdrew them from under the floorboard where I’d hidden them and brought them straight to ye. I sent dozens and dozens of missives for yer brother and da, and I only ever missed four, but still...” The priest shrugged. “I’ve nae ever read them, so I kinnae say if they will be of help.”

She did not want to hope, considering the missives might not contain anything useful, but her hopes rose anyway. “Thank ye, Father Ollie.” She took the small satchel of missives, closed the door, and rushed to her bed to read them.

The first two missives contained nothing that could help her, so by the time she opened the third one, her hopes had nearly plummeted. But then she read the first line from her da to her brother:

The bodies of Eppie Stewart and Graeme Stewart kinnae be found amongst the dead. Confirm ye killed them as ordered and what ye did with the bodies.

Da

Maisie’s hands shook violently as she stared at the words. Her father’s cruel side, his relentless drive for power, was even greater and darker than she had thought. Shame burned her from head to toe. She squeezed her eyes shut and took slow breaths so she would not be sick again. When she opened her eyes, images of her and her father, and the good times they shared, flashed through her mind, but that was not the complete picture of the man he had been. Her father had ordered the deaths of a three-year-old boy and the woman assigned to keep him alive, and Brody had disobeyed the order and lied about it. So, why, why did Brody keep Eppie and Graeme imprisoned even after their father was dead? Or why not simply help them escape?

With her thoughts tumbling one after the other, she broke the seal on the last missive, unfolded it, and read the one simple line from Brody to their da:

Aye, Da, I did as ye bade, then burned the bodies.

Brody

She lowered the letter to her lap and stared at it. Tears rolled down her cheeks, off her chin, and then plopped onto the missive, wetting the parchment. She folded it up and set it beside her. Her brother had saved Eppie and Graeme only to damn them. There was no choice but to confront him, beg him to confess to the king, and then if he didn’t do so, she would take the letters to the king herself. Sadness pressed in on her from every direction. She might regain Graeme’s trust, but the price was her brother’s life. Yet, there was no other honorable choice, given his crimes. For a moment, she considered going to him now, but she needed to gather her strength for the confrontation. She got up, gathered the letters, and hid them under a loose board beneath her bed. Then she lay down and allowed the tears to come once more.