Midnight Runner: A Novel

by Marilee Jackson

  “Oh my goodness! Thank you. Of course I can’t go down like this.”

  The young woman helped her dress appropriately and then Lady Nuala left the room, closing the oak door behind her.

  Lady Nuala mumbled as she hurried down the four flights of stone stairs. Never before had she taken an audience with the townspeople. She had no idea what to expect. Chewing on her cuticles, she felt uneasy, and her stomach was churning. Lady Nuala burst through the door and into the great hall. Her heartbeat became erratic, her palms began to sweat, and her mouth fell open in shock. Had she just wandered into a nightmare? She closed her eyes tightly, took the fleshy part of her arm just above her elbow between her fingers, and pinched as hard as she could.

  “Ow!”

  “M’lady, are you all right? Do I need to fetch someone for you?” The commoner raised her eyebrows in shock.

  Lady Nuala knew that voice. It haunted her dreams. Slowly, she opened her eyes and the face of Gormal Bard came into view. Her hair was graying, her skin was saggy, and she had a stick to help her walk. “What are you doing here?” Lady Nuala squeaked.

  “Beg pardon?” Gormal asked.

  Lady Nuala lifted her chin defiantly. “I asked you what you are doing here,” she repeated louder and more forcefully.

  “My husband, my Artair, died last year.” Gormal narrowed her eyes when Lady Nuala flinched. “An’ my daughter an’ son an’ me had to sell everything we had to feed ourselves, but we’ve run out of possessions an’ money an’ food, an’ we was wonderin’ if you could find it in the grace of your heart to help us out?” Gormal was looking closely at Lady Nuala now.

  “I’m sorry. That is such a sad story. It breaks my heart— it really does,” Lady Nuala said unconvincingly. “But I just don’t have the time to take care of any charity cases. What I suggest is trying to get a job at the local pub, or trying to sell your children. However, I would consider the first one, because from the looks of your children you wouldn’t get much for either one of them. Now, you may leave and have yourselves a wonderful day.” Sucking in a much-needed breath, she turned and fled on wobbly legs to the safety of her bedchamber.

  19

  Young Lord Niall Conell awoke the morning after his father’s funeral with a terrible crick in his neck. When he righted himself, he realized he had fallen asleep, or possibly passed out, at the pub down the road from the palace. He stood on shaky legs and held on to the bar for support.

  “Ah, young Lord Conell. You’re awake,” the pub owner said as he put away clean glasses.

  “Not so loud, please,” Niall whispered, putting his hands over his ears. His throat felt like sandpaper and his mouth tasted like he licked a goat, and he wasn’t too sure he hadn’t because last night was a blur.

  “Sorry, young Conell. I’ll try and keep it down.” The pub owner slowly put down a glass so it wouldn’t make any noise. The front door flew opened unexpectedly and harsh sunlight washed over the young lord.

  “Ahhhh!” he yelled, covering his face with his hands. He lost his balance and landed on the floor with a loud thud. He peeked through his fingers to see a short, round, gray-haired woman with a walking stick coming into the pub, followed by a younger version of herself and a younger, portly boy.

  “I’m sorry, lass. We’re not open yet,” the pub owner said to his unexpected guests.

  “Oh, we’re not here for whisky. We’re here looking for work.”

  “I don’t need any help. So you can just . . .” The pub owner noticed their dirty, threadbare clothes and thought better of sending them back out the door. “But you look like you could use a drink. Sit down.” He motioned to the stools next to Lord Conell.

  “That I could! I feel like I just saw a ghost! She looked just like her, didn’t she, Riona?” the gray-haired woman asked the young woman on her left.

  The pub owner set three mugs on the bar in front of her.

  “Aye, that she did, Ma,” Riona answered. “But I don’t think it was a ghost—it was her. I’d bet my life on it. She may be older an’ covered in fancy attire, but she always was a cunning rogue. She could’ve weaseled her way into power somehow. It was her, mark my words!” Riona downed the dram of whisky and wiped her face with the back of her thick hand.

  “Beg pardon, ma’am, but where’d you see the fancy ghost lady?” The pub owner was leaning over the bar, eyes wide with fascination. Lord Niall stood and slowly started to exit the pub; he didn’t have time for ghost stories. Now that his father was gone, he had to find a way to get rid of Lady Nuala.

  “Over to the palace. The lady of the palace. What’d they call her? Um, Lady Nu . . . Um, anyway she looks just like a servant girl that ran away from us years ago.”

  Niall stopped abruptly, his hand on the door handle, at the mention of his sister. He listened as the woman described the scene that had just taken place at the palace. “An’ then she told us to come here an’ seek employment.”

  “You think Lady Nuala Conell used to be your servant girl? Lady Nuala, the great beauty, your servant? You must be daft, woman! A pretty little thing like that working for anybody, let alone the likes of you. Ha! Finish your whisky an’ then find the nearest physician!” The pub owner’s belly shook with laughter as he walked into the back. The three newcomers stared after him, their mouths hanging open.

  “Excuse me, madam, would you be willing to tell me that story again?” Lord Niall was afraid he missed something because of his terrible headache. Could it be, after all these years, the answers I have been searching for have finally found me? And in the pub of all places? It almost seemed to be too good to be true.

  “Oh no, I’ll not be laughed at again, thank you. We’ll go now. We’re finished.” The mother stood to leave.

  “Wait, please!” Niall put his hand on her arm to stop her. “I believe you. I have always thought that Lady Nuala was hiding something, and I need your help to prove it.”

  “An’ why would I help you?” Gormal asked.

  “I’m the young Lord Niall Conell. Well . . . I guess I’m the only Lord Conell now that my father is gone. Anyway, this woman you are talking about is my sister. I’ve been trying to expose Lady Nuala as a fraud for the last ten years, but I can’t find any proof. Nobody has any record of her anywhere. I think we can be a vast help to each other.”

  “My name is Gormal Bard, an’ this is my daughter, Riona, an’ my son, Roane. What would you be offering to me in return for my help?” Gormal smiled, showing off a row of yellow teeth and put an arm around Riona, pulling her close to Lord Niall. “She’d make a fine wife for any man. Turn around, dearie. Show him all your assets.”

  Niall cleared his throat, stepping backward. “Well, I’m sure she’s, um, lovely, but I am nobility, after all, and I must marry noble blood . . . according to the law. However, I am lord of the palace now, and I could find you employment. The kitchen is always in need of help, and there may be a place available in the stables for this strapping young man.” Roane winced as Lord Conell slapped him on the back.

  “M’lord, you have yourself a deal.” Gormal put forth a filthy right hand.

  “Good.” Lord Conell avoided the handshake by putting his hand lightly on Gormal’s back. He led the Bard family through the front door. “I’ll need to know everything you know about Lady Nuala. And then I will get you set up with employment and lodging at the palace.”

  Niall Conell left the Bard family outside the palace walls while he made sure the coast was clear. He walked into the lush grounds surrounding his lifelong home.

  As a boy, he would roam through the vast gardens and forest that surrounded the palace. He had been happy here until the age of fifteen, when his mother died and his father told him about his oldest child. He hadn’t ever really liked his father and thought he was weak. Lord Conell had always treated everyone with respect, as if they were his equal. He tried to teach his son to be nice to everyone. Luckily Niall’s mother, Lady Avila, had enough sense to teach her son the
truth. He was better than everyone else because he was royalty. Now every time he thought of his father, he felt sick. He learned to hate his father the year his mother died. Not only did his father tell Niall about this illegitimate daughter, but he also went searching for her and brought her here to live as Niall’s equal.

  A crow cawed in the distance breaking through his memories. That’s all in the past now. I have proof she isn’t who she claims to be, and I’ll make this my happy home once again.

  Niall noticed that something strange in the palace grounds: nobody was to be found anywhere.

  Lord Niall ran back to the front gates. “All right, the coast is clear. Follow me to the stables, quickly!” The Bards stared at him unmoving. “What’s wrong? Let’s go!”

  “W-w-what if she sees us?” Gormal stammered.

  “This is my father’s palace. I’m his only living son. If I want to hire new help for the kitchen and stable, that is my right. Now do you want jobs or not?”

  The Bards nodded.

  “Then follow me.”

  They quickly made their way to the backside of the palace where the stables stood a few yards from the kitchen door. Once they were all in the protection of the stables, Lord Niall pulled the heavy door shut behind them. He checked all of the stalls and made sure they were alone before he motioned for the Bards to sit on the stacks of hay. “Okay, now tell me everything you know about Lady Nuala.”

  “I don’t know nothing about Lady Nuala, but if she’s the same servant girl that ran off seventeen years ago, I know plenty about her,” Gormal said a little puzzled.

  “Now you met with Lady Nuala this morning, right?” Lord Niall asked impatiently.

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “Is she the same servant girl you are speaking of, or isn’t she?”

  “Yep, that was her all right. I’d know her anywhere,” Riona answered.

  “Good, now tell me everything you know about her.” Lord Conell sat down on a stack of hay opposite of the Bards.

  “Let’s see here,” Gormal Bard said, standing up. “We came from a place called Trom. Do ya know it?” When Lord Niall nodded impatiently, Gormal continued. “My beloved Artair and me lived next to a trollop named Agar, something Agar . . . Well, she loved the company of men, if ya know what I mean. Do ya know what I mean?”

  Lord Niall sighed and nodded.

  “She had a daughter by the name of Moira. She was about three when we moved into the next cottage. No father, no mention of any husband ever. Anyway, two years passed by an’ the next thing ya know this Agar woman says she’s gonna have a babe and needs help. Well, the boy child was born dead an’ the Agar woman never wakes up. So we take Moira to live with us, ’cause we’re good people an’ the poor thing needed a home. Well, after years of love an’ shelter, she disappears in the middle of the night an’ in the dead of winter too, mind ya. I never thought she’da lived, but here she is now, plain as the nose on my face.” Gormal pointed to her face and sat on the hay next to Roane, indicating that she had concluded her speech.

  “Well, madam, you have given me invaluable information. I thank you very much. I’ll head into the kitchen and speak to the head cook and procure you a place to sleep and employment. If you would stay here, I’ll be right back for you.”

  After Lord Niall had gotten the Bard women settled in with the kitchen staff and young Roane in the stables, he nearly ran up the stairs to find Lady Nuala.

  She was an orphan, an illegitimate orphan. There’s no noble blood in her. That’s wonderful! I wonder what she said to make my father think she was his daughter. There’s no way he actually fathered her. What a liar! It was so much better than he had ever thought it would be. He vowed to see her hanged within the week.

  Lord Niall reached the massive wooden door that led into Lady Nuala’s chambers. He took a deep breath attempting to calm his nerves. His senses were all heightened. The air smelled fresher, colors were brighter. Blood was pumping through his veins at an accelerated rate.

  Lady Nuala was lying to everyone, and he was going to make her pay. Lord Niall was elated to be the one to bring her to justice. Holding his breath, he knocked as hard as he could.

  20

  Lord Niall’s lungs felt as if they would burst. He let his breath out in a loud whoosh. There was no answer.

  He knocked again. Nothing. He pushed his ear to the smooth surface of the door. There was nothing on the other side. Not even the shuffling of feet. He tried the handle and found that the door swung open easily. He pushed it open and peeked inside. It was empty.

  “Hello? Lady Nuala? Anya? Is anyone here?” He walked quickly through the large rooms. His stomach was in knots as fear gripped his heart. Did she leave? Has she run away? He had to find her. He was going to bring her to justice if it was his last act in this life. Even if he had to hang beside her, he wanted to see her neck in a noose. He practically flew back down to the kitchen. The servants looked up, stunned, as he fell through the doors.

  “M’lord, are ya all right?” The head cook’s brows were furrowed with concern.

  “Lady Nuala is gone.” It was a heated statement, not a question.

  “Aye, she took half the staff with her too.” The cook was obviously not happy with Lady Nuala for this. “Why she thinks she’ll need them all, I’ll never know.” She went back to stirring whatever was in the large wooden bowl in front of her.

  Lord Niall stepped around the butcher-block counter, grabbed the large woman by the shoulders, and pulled her face close to his. “Where has she gone?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Dòmhail. Yesterday when we got back from the cemetery, a letter was waiting for her. The king said they were sorry for the loss of your father, but that they wanted her to join in the summer holiday anyway,” she answered quickly, her eyes searching the kitchen for help.

  Relief washed over Lord Niall. In Dòmhail. The king and queen can be witness too. His day was getting better and better. “Thank you, Millie, thank you!” He pulled the startled cook in and kissed her full on the lips. “Ha ha! When did they leave?”

  “You’re, uh, welcome, m’lord. They left about half an hour ago,” the older woman stammered, wiping her lips as if he had tainted them. Laughing, Lord Niall turned to leave, the puzzled kitchen staff staring after him. “I think the boy’s gone loony as well as wicked!” Millie said, wiping her lips again.

  Lord Niall stuck his head back in the room. “Next time tell me these things before I waste my time searching. I am lord of the palace now. If you want to keep your jobs, and your lives for that matter, you will accommodate me. Now, send my servant John to meet me in library.”

  He didn’t wait for their answer. With a bounce in his step, he left the kitchen and walked through the enormous dining hall, through the great foyer, and into the library where the ink and quills were kept. He sat down at the enormous mahogany desk where his father had been found facedown and not breathing only four short days ago. This library had been his father’s sanctuary. Finding he had little in common with his wife, the late Lord Conell turned to the companionship of books.

  Lord Niall cleared his throat and his mind and pulled a clean sheet of parchment from the top right hand drawer. He dipped his quill in the ink and penned a short letter for his sister. He wrote:

  Lady Nuala or Moira Agar

  I know your secret, and as long as there is breath in my lungs, I will do everything in my power to make sure you pay for what you have done.

  He left the note unsigned. He blew on the fresh ink, folded it in thirds, and melted wax onto it. He picked up the family seal, then put it back down and pushed his thumb over the fresh wax to seal it.

  A large, rough-looking man in a black cloak stepped into the library. “You sent for me?”

  “Yes, John. I have an assignment for you,” Niall said.

  John rubbed his stubble with a filthy hand. “What kind of assignment?”

  “The usual.” Niall tossed a bag of coins at Jo
hn. “This one’s name is Anya. She may be hard to find. Nuala is traveling this time.”

  John opened his mouth in a nasty grin. “What would you like done with this one?”

  “I’ve told you before that I don’t care what you do with them. Just get rid of them.” Niall led the man outside where a large black horse waited.

  “Yes, my lord.” John nodded and jumped into the saddle.

  Niall swiftly made his way back to the stables. He found the stable manager showing Roane around and pointing out what things were.

  “M’lord, do you need something?” The slim gray-haired man asked, surprise on his face.

  “Yes, Sean. I need a messenger to catch Lady Nuala on the road and deliver this letter as soon as possible. And I also need my horse ready to go. I’ll be joining the lady in Dòmhail.” He handed the folded parchment over to the stable manager.

  “Are you sure? I didn’t think the two of you got on,” Sean said quietly.

  “You’re right. We never have. But now there’s nothing I want more than to take care of her,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  “Yes, m’lord.” A smile spread wide on Sean’s face, lighting up his previously tired gray eyes. “Your father would be proud of you. I’ll have your horse ready in a jiff.”

  “Thank you, Sean.” Lord Conell left the stables to ready himself for the long trip to Dòmhail and the demise of his sister.

  * * *

  Lady Nuala was eagerly tapping her foot. She loved the castle in Dòmhail. She loved the summer holidays that she had spent there with her father. The fact that Lord Niall would not be there was what thrilled her the most.

  The carriage unexpectedly slowed and stopped. “Why have we stopped? Is something wrong?” Lady Nuala asked Anya.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll check.” Anya stuck her head out the door. A few moments later, she pulled her head back inside. “M’lady, the horses need a drink. We’ll be on our way again soon enough,” Anya explained to her mistress. Just as she shut the door, there was commotion outside the carriage.