With a smile and a nod, the auld woman looked pleased. “She be a good one, that lass. Claire ingen William will make ye a good wife someday. Does she still make the best jam in Scotia?”
“Aye, she does,” he said with a proud smile.
Turning to Onnleigh, she asked, “And ye, lass? Do ye ken how to make jam?”
“Nay,” she admitted. “I fear I can ne’er get it to set proper.” Her jam usually turned out looking more like a runny sauce than jam.
“Mayhap ye’ve nae been taught proper.” Turning back to the young man, Bruanna said, “I be sure Claire would be quite proud to teach the chief’s betrothed how to make a proper jam, aye, Seamus?”
He looked as though he’d just swallowed a slimy bug.
“‘Twould be somethin’ she could brag about fer years to come, aye? Ye’ll ask her, this day?” She didn’t wait for his response. “Good! ’Tis settled!”
“What be settled?” Rena asked as she set a trencher in front of Bruanna.
“Yer future daughter-by-law will be teachin’ the future wife of the chief how to make jam,” Bruanna said with a smile.
The three people all turned to stare at Onnleigh as if she had done something wrong. Before she could point out that Bruanna had suggested it, the auld woman said, “Seamus the aulder here, he be the finest carpenter I’ve ever kent. Ye should see his fine work!”
The older man stared at Bruanna as if she’d lost her mind.
“Mayhap he could carve a chest fer the chief’s bride? Somethin’ she could keep her treasures in. ‘Twould be an honor, to be certain. Connor would be verra proud to have ye do it.”
Slowly, Seamus the aulder set his eating knife down on the table. Looking Bruanna in the eye, he said, “I ken what ye’re doin’, Bruanna.”
“What?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“Ye’re appealin’ to our pride to get us to do things we’d otherwise nae think to do,” he told her pointedly.
The old woman tilted her head ever so slightly. “Ye mean, ye’d nae wish to make a beautiful chest fer the chief’s future wife?”
He let out a short breath. “If the chief were inclined to marry someone else, then aye, I’d be wishin’ to.”
Onnleigh’s humiliation burned brightly, with cheeks aflame and her eyes downcast.
“Tell me, Seamus the aulder, what is it ye have against me future granddaughter-by-law?”
He seemed surprised that she should ask such a thing. With wide eyes, he stared at the auld woman.
When he did not answer, it prompted his wife to do so on his behalf. “Ye ken who she be, aye?” she asked, leaning over the table slightly.
“Aye, I do,” Bruanna replied.
Seamus the younger decided he needed to intercede on Onnleigh’s behalf. “Ye all are talkin’ as if she be nae here,” he said.
Onnleigh chanced a brief glance his way as all eyes at the table turned to her.
“It be nae her fault who she was born to,” Bruanna reminded them. “Connor wants her for his wife and that be all that matters.”
Seamus the aulder huffed derisively. Rena shook her head as if it were all a great shame. Their son, thankfully, was not of the same mindset.
“Ye were an odd child,” he began. “Now I do nae mean that as an insult, mind ye. I think that be why some folks are so taken aback by Connor’s announcement. Ye rarely ever spoke and ye were always starin’ at people. And ye left and never came back until a few weeks ago and now Connor says he wants to marry ye. Can ye see why people be curious as well as confused?”
Onnleigh played with the fringe on Nola’s blanket while she pondered his words. All of that was true. She had been a quiet child and she had stayed away. Perhaps they did not understand the why of it all.
“’Twas how I learned,” she murmured. Her voice was so soft and low they asked her to repeat herself.
A long moment stretched out before she had the courage to look up. “’Twas how I learned.”
They stared back in confusion.
“I did nae have anyone to teach me things after me mum died. So I watched closely what people were doin’. I learned to make soap by watchin’ Thomas’ mum. I learned to make candles by watchin’ Alice’s mum.”
Rena looked as confused as the rest of them. “But why did ye nae ask us to teach ye these things?”
Onnleigh’s chest tightened as a lifetime of memories came crashing through. “I tried, but before I could e’er get a word out, ye all were chasin’ me away.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she refused to shed them lest the others think her weak. “E’er one of ye chased me away, save fer Connor and his mum. Ye all were afraid I’d be stealin’ from ye like me da did.”
’Twas their turn to feel ashamed. She could see it on their faces, in their eyes. “I stayed away because none wanted me here.”
Another long silence filled the air. Finally, Bruanna asked, “Why did ye come back, lass?”
Onnleigh cast a glance her way. “Me da died in the spring. I came to give back the hut and bit of land, fer I was prepared to go seek a life elsewhere. I kent none of ye wanted me here.”
Bruanna gave a knowing nod. “Then Connor asked ye to care fer his babe?”
“Aye,” she replied softly as she looked down at Nola. “He did. I was sorely tempted to say nay to his offer. But he convinced me this be me clan as much as ’tis anyone else’s.”
Bruanna patted Onnleigh’s hand and smiled at her warmly. “And he be right,” she said.
Onnleigh glanced at the others and wondered if they agreed. If they did, they kept their opinions to themselves.
The banns have been posted! Bah! Helen fumed quietly. Beyond incensed, her hatred toward Onnleigh was building by leaps and bounds. And Connor? Connor would soon rue the day he’d decided to let the bit of filthy trash that was Onnleigh ingen Grueber into her home.
Helen had been the chatelaine of this keep ever since William MacCallen had passed away. She’d stepped into the role to help Connor adjust to life as laird and chief. This is my keep, my home! She fumed as she stepped out into the cold, dreary day.
Doing her best to quash her fury at the two young people, Helen painted on an air of disinterest as she stepped into the kitchens. While she might be furious at this recent turn of events, there was still a keep to run. And it was her keep.
Sashaying into the kitchens, she found Louisa at the little table and chair she used as her desk. Louisa looked up from her journal and did something most unusual. She smiled at Helen.
The smile caught her off guard, but only for the briefest of moments. “I would like to speak with ye about the menus fer next week,” she said.
Louisa placed the quill into the jar of ink, turned in her chair and said, “There be no need.”
Confused, Helen asked, “What do ye mean there be no need?”
Not once did Louisa’s smile falter. “Just what I said, there be no need. Onnleigh and I went over the menus just this morn.”
Onnleigh? Just hearing the woman’s name sent a burst of fury erupting inside her chest.
Louisa stood then, and looked Helen directly in the eye. She was a few inches shorter than Helen, round and squat, with light hair that had at one time been a deep red. “Aye, Onnleigh. She be the chatelaine now.”
“They be nae married,” Helen argued.
With a shrug of indifference, Louisa replied, “They will be married and verra soon. Connor thought ’twould be a good idea fer her to start learnin’ how to be a proper chatelaine.”
Louisa added far too much emphasis to the word proper to suit Helen. Still clinging to her sense of dignity, Helen gave a slow shake of her head. “Connor has nae informed me of such a decision. I do nae believe ye be tellin’ the truth.”
Louisa was so insulted that her nostrils flared and she pursed her lips. But before she could let loose with years of pent up anger, she noticed Connor standing behind Helen.
“She speaks the truth.”
Startled, Helen sp
un around at the sound of Connor’s voice. He looked nearly as pleased with her distress as Louisa was.
“Why did ye nae come to me to discuss this change?” she finally managed to ask.
“I was plannin’ on doin’ that verra thing,” Connor said. “Mayhap ye would like to discuss this privately?”
Pulling her shoulders back, she affected an air of grace. “Nay,” she replied stoically. “We can discuss it now.”
“Verra well,” Connor began. “As of this moment, ye are nae longer actin’ as chatelaine of the keep. Onnleigh will take over all duties, forthwith.”
“I would be happy to give Onnleigh my personal instructions on the proper way to act as Chatelaine,” Helen offered, mustering up a smile that she did not in truth, feel.
“That will nae be necessary,” Connor said with a glance toward his cook. “Louisa will be helpin’ her in that regard.”
There was no way for her to hide her surprise. “The cook?” she asked, stunned and horrified at the same time. The anger built to the point she could no longer contain it. “I suppose ye’ll also have the stable master teachin’ her how to sew? Or mayhap the smythie to teach her how to serve a proper feast?”
He grinned and gave a nod of his head. “If they have somethin’ they’d like to contribute, then aye, I would consider their good advice.”
“But nae mine?” Helen’s voice was rising in both pitch and loudness. “I have been chatelaine—”
Connor stopped her with a raised hand. “Ye were actin’ chatelaine. A position I gave ye durin’ a time of grief. While I do sincerely appreciate all that ye have done to aid in the runnin’ of the keep, I must now give that position to me betrothed.”
His betrothed? Bah! Helen wanted to scream, to scratch out his eyes for being so unkind toward her. After all she had done for him these past years? “I suppose ye’ll be wantin’ me to leave the keep as well?”
“Aye, I would. I think ‘twould be best fer all concerned if ye were to return to yer cottage. Ye and Margaret. While I ken ye mean only to help, I think ’twould be best if Onnleigh could learn her new position without interference.”
Connor’s grin was as off-putting as Louisa’s. The fact that they were enjoying her distress did not go unnoticed. Neither would it go unchallenged.
’Twas difficult to remain calm. But calm she must. With heads held high, Helen and Margaret quietly moved their things out of the keep. While most would have been grateful to have a home to return to, Helen found no comfort in it. She and Margaret spent the better part of the day cleaning the large space and putting things in order. As soon as it was presentable, Helen invited two of her closest companions over to help her wallow in her self-pity.
“They are to be married the last day of January,” she said as she offered warm cider to the three women sitting at her table. Two of the women were her oldest friends - Eleana and Trudee - the third, her daughter Margaret.
Where Eleana was short and round, with pewter colored hair and dark blue eyes, Trudee was taller, leaner, and had somehow managed to maintain her golden tresses. As far as Helen was concerned, each were as intelligent as a box of rocks. But what they may have lacked in intelligence, they made up for in loyalty.
Of course, it helped knowing their secrets. Secrets that would ruin not only their reputations but the carefully crafted lives they had somehow managed to carve out for themselves. Helen knew those dark secrets and betimes used them to keep the two women in line.
Her friends were no happier about Connor’s announcement than she. Of course, had Helen been happy about the announcement, the two women would have been as well. Malleable minds made for better friends.
“What do ye intend to do?” Eleana asked as she sipped the warm cider.
Helen pretended to think long and hard on the question. Of course, she had been up most of the night, trying to craft a plan that would bring any wedding plans to an abrupt halt. The problem was, she didn’t have a secret to hold over Onnleigh’s head. Oh, she knew the girl possessed one, but Helen was having the damnedest time trying to figure out what it was.
Everyone had secrets. Everyone. If only…If only she could gain knowledge of Onnleigh’s, then she could use it to force the girl to leave. Come hell or high water, Connor would marry Margaret.
“She’s bewitched him,” Trudee said. “’Tis the only thing that makes a lick of sense to me.”
“Bah!” Eleana exclaimed dismissively. “She has turned his head is all, with that red hair of hers. ’Tis nae a bewitchment, ’tis lust.”
Trudee shrugged her shoulder as if she did not care what her friend’s opinion was. “Call it what ye will, the result is the same. Connor wishes to marry her. Bewitched or lustin’, he still wants to marry her.”
Helen hadn’t been listening closely, for she was too lost in trying to figure out what secrets the trash Onnleigh might have. The word ‘bewitched’ brought her back to the moment. Bewitched.
In the past, if she couldn’t garner a person’s secret, she would sometimes spread a rumor based on nothing more than a simple lie. The simple lie would build and grow until ’twas believed to be God’s truth.
’Twas then the idea formed. She could see it as clearly as the three women sitting at her table. Joy bubbled up from her stomach. ’Twas all she could do not to jump on top of the table and dance a jig! But a calm head was called for at this juncture. A very calm head.
“Ye ken, I was once walkin’ near the hovel Onnleigh shared with her da…”
Telling the lie was as easy as breathing. And oh, what a lie it was. There was not an ounce of truth to it. There didn’t need to be.
Helen knew the moment she finished telling her tale Eleana and Trudee wouldn’t be able to get out of her home fast enough to share the information. And that was what she needed, for the tale to be told again and again until it was believed to be nothing but the truth.
Before the end of the week, the rumor that Onnleigh ingen Grueber was practicing witchcraft would be spread wide enough to stop the wedding.
Onnleigh did not want to leave the comfort of her warm bed. But the fire in her brazier had died at some point during the night, leaving the air in her room frigid. When she leaned over to check on her daughter, she could see her own breath. Nola slept peacefully in her cradle, but her little nose and cheeks were red from the cold.
The only light illuminating the room came from a small crack in the fur that covered her window.
Wrapping a fur around her shoulders, Onnleigh set about restarting the brazier. Rubbing her hands together to take out the sting from the cold, she glanced up at the window. Snow had drifted in through the crack, leaving behind a little pile of the fluffy white powder. Quickly, she went to the window and peeked out. As far as the eye could see, the lands were covered, glistening in the pre-dawn morn colors of purple and indigo. Sparkling brightly as if some ancient giant had tossed diamonds hither and yon from the low hanging moon. ‘Twould not be long before the sun rose.
Shivering, she tightened the fur as best she could before returning to her bed. The sheets were chilly, causing her to shiver again. Pulling the furs over her ears, she waited for the room to warm again and for sleep to return.
Her thoughts were of Connor, as they so often were. In a few short weeks, she would be his wife. Worry settled in. She didn’t know how to be a wife to anyone, let alone a clan chief. She fretted quietly that she would somehow muck it up. The last thing she wanted to do was to be an embarrassment to him.
When she finally drifted off to sleep, she dreamt of Connor and their future together. Always smiling at her, he seemed quite proud to call her wife. In that dream, she was dressed in a beautiful green gown, her hair fashioned prettily, with little flowers and dark green ribbons woven through it. She had the sense of being at peace, feeling nothing but love and adoration from Connor and the many children she had apparently given life to. Children of all ages surrounded her, smiling up at her adoringly, proudly.
They wer
e bathed in the warmth of bright sunshine, surrounded by spring grass and newly blossomed flowers. ’Twas the most peaceful she had ever felt, even if ’twas just a dream.
Suddenly, she heard, or rather felt, a low rumble of thunder. Soon, the sky was as black as pitch, darker than night, and the thunder grew louder and louder. Her children sought refuge behind her.
Connor’s bright smile faded rapidly. A most dark expression came upon him. She had done something wrong, something horrible. Something unforgivable. But what that something was, she didn’t know. She could only feel his disgust toward her.
Their children went to him at once, all bearing the same expression of loathing as their father. Moments later, they were all walking away, hanging their heads in shame. She called out to them, crying, begging and pleading for forgiveness. Her pleas went unanswered, for they could not hear her over the roar of the thunder. Soon, they disappeared into the darkness, leaving her all alone. Not even Nola was at her side.
Cold enveloped her, seeping into her bones. Her tears turned to ice, dropping to the cold earth and crashing, breaking into countless pieces.
She was all alone in this world once again. Completely, devastatingly alone.
Onnleigh woke, her cheeks damp from crying, her chest heavy with a sorrow she didn’t think she’d felt since losing her mother. Afraid, nay terrified, she scurried from her bed, grabbed Nola, and headed to Connor’s room.
Using the light of the fire to guide her way, she quickly went to his side. He slept on his back, one arm resting over his eyes. His room was warm, much warmer than her own. For the longest of moments, she simply stood, staring down at him as quiet tears fell.
He must have sensed her presence, for he woke and sat up as he grabbed a large dirk from under his pillow. “Onnleigh?” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep. “What be the matter?”
The concern in his eyes, the soft, warm timber of his voice nearly sent her to her knees. Be strong, she chastised herself. Taking in a deep breath, choking on a sob, she said, “I cannae marry ye.”
Secrets of the Heart Page 12