Together, they began to remove the sheets from the furniture. Arline could not keep her curiosity at bay any longer.
“Selina, if yer mum hadn’t taught ye to hold yer tongue if ye hadn’t anythin’ nice to say,” Arline tried to sound as nonchalant as she could. “What would ye say about Lady Beatrice?’
Selina giggled as she snapped the dust from the sheet that had been hiding a beautiful writing desk. “Well, if me mum hadna taught me that, then I’d be tellin’ ye that I do no’ like Lady Beatrice.”
Arline raised an eyebrow and felt some measure of satisfaction knowing she was not alone in her feelings for Lady Beatrice. “And?”
Selina folded the sheet and reached for the one that Lady Arline was holding. “Me lady, I do no’ like to speak ill of someone who is no’ here to defend themselves.”
Instantly, Arline felt guilty for having asked. She detested gossip and felt precisely the same way as Selina when it came to speaking about someone behind their back. And what did she care about the relationship between Rowan and Beatrice?
So what if she had wakened this morning, wrapped in his strong, protective arms? And what did it matter that he kissed her neck? He had been asleep after all, and she couldn’t hold anything a sleeping man did against him. She had done her best to convince herself that none of that had mattered. And she wasn’t about to read anything into his offer of a safe home and a position as Lily’s governess. Arline needed a home and Rowan needed someone to care for his daughter. There was nothing more to it than that.
As they set the room to rights, shaking the dust from the sheets and airing out the room, Arline answered Selina’s questions on how she came to be at Castle Áit na Síochána.
Arline kept her answers short and to the point. Her story did not take long to explain and she was glad that Selina had not asked too many questions.
“Well,” Selina said as she looked about the room. “While yer in the bathin’ room, I’ll bring ye clean sheets and blankets. I’ll see about findin’ ye some clean clothes as well.”
“Bathin’ room?” Arline asked.
“Aye, we have a room below stairs, just off the kitchens, where we do all our bathin’,” Selina explained. “We have six tubs there. It saves on us havin’ to tote tubs and buckets of water up and down the stairs.”
Arline thought it an ingenious idea and could not wait to see it. She followed Selina out of the room and down a different set of stairs. These were a bit wider and well lit from sconces that hung on the walls every few feet.
The stairs took them into a very small area next to the larder and kitchen. Arline could hear a bustling of activity coming from the kitchen. They continued down a narrow hallway lined with many heavy wooden doors. Selina opened the second door to their right. The humidity hit Arline’s face the moment she stepped inside.
The room was quite large, with tall ceilings and wood floors. There were gaps between the wooden planks which Arline found odd. A wall ran down the center of the room dividing it in half. There were three tubs on each side, a large fireplace with an enormous pot hanging over the fire. It resembled the pots one would find in the laundries.
Several chairs were scattered about the room along with low tables and shelves. Selina led Arline to the tub room on their right. “This side is fer the women, the other side fer the men.” Selina explained. “I’ll grab a bucket and start fillin’ the tub.”
“I’ll help ye,” Arline said as she followed Selina to the fire.
In a short time, the tub was filled with hot, steamy water. Selina took a vial from one of the shelves and added a few drops of scented oil to the water. Arline breathed in deeply, all at once feeling both happy and relaxed. “Lilies?” she asked, recognizing the scent almost immediately.
“Aye,” Selina said with a smile. “We collected them from the loch in the summer. We have other scents ye can try later. Lavender, blue bell, marigold. If ye have a scent ye like, I can make it fer ye.”
Arline hurried out of her clothes, unable to wait any longer to soak in the hot, steamy water. “Ye make them?”
“Aye, I do.” Selina smiled proudly. “I learned at me mum’s hip!”
Arline draped her cloak, dress and chemise on the back of a chair and anxiously stuck one toe into the tub. It was a bit hot, but she was not about to complain. Her bones and muscles ached. Carefully, she slid into the tub. Almost instantly, the water began to soothe her achy muscles and tired bones. “Heavenly,” she murmured as the water worked its magic.
She sat soaking for a time, enjoying the sleepy feeling as it crept in. She could have stayed here until the morning, as long as the water was warmed.
Selina helped her to bathe and wash her hair. It took some time before the water began to cool and Arline enjoyed every moment of it.
Far too soon for her liking, she was scrubbed clean from head to toe. The mud and muck was washed from her hair and she felt better than she had in days.
As Selina was rinsing the last of the soap from Arline’s hair, a young girl, came rushing into the bathing room.
“Selina!” the girl said, out of breath and panting. “Mrs. McGregor needs ye straight away!” The girl sounded panicked.
“Is it Lily?” Arline asked as she hurried to rinse off.
“Nay, m’lady,” the girl said curtly. She shot Arline an odd look, as if Arline had no right to ask such a question.
“Och!” Selina said, patting Arline’s shoulders. “Never ye mind it, m’lady. Mrs. McGregor is always fashin’ on about somethin’. She be the head cook here and is always in a fit over one thing or another.” Selina poured another pitcher of clean water over Arline’s hair.
“But, Selina, she said now. Ye are to drop everythin’ and come see her immediately.” The girl cast a look of reproach toward Arline. “Do ye ken how to bathe yerself?” the girl asked, her words sharp and clipped.
“Of course I ken,” Arline answered calmly. She could not figure out why this girl seemed so angry or bitter toward her.
“Come now, Selina,” the girl urged. “She’s fit to be tied.”
Selina rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Go tell her I’ll be right there.”
“Now, Selina,” the girl folded her arms over her chest, looking quite upset with the both of them.
“Selina, go. I can make my way back to me room,” Arline told her.
“Are ye certain, m’lady?” Selina asked.
“Aye. Just hand me a dryin’ cloth and I’ll be fine.”
Selina nodded, grabbed a drying cloth from a peg on the wall and handed it to Arline. “I’ll see what has Mrs. McGregor in such a fit and I’ll come to help ye straight away. They should have put yer room to rights by now.”
“Thank ye, Selina,” Arline said as she stood and climbed from the tub. She wrapped the drying cloth around her shoulders and smiled at Selina. “I do thank ye, fer all of yer help, Selina. Now go, before ye get into trouble with Mrs. McGregor.”
Twelve
Arline managed to find her way back to her room after her bath. She was rather surprised to find that her room had not been put to rights as Selina had promised. There was no fire in the heart and no clean linens or blankets on the bed. It looked exactly as it had been left.
She dropped her cloak, dress, and chemise on the bed and looked about the room. Had someone thought to at least bring the wood and kindling, she could have started her own fire. There wasn’t so much as a candle for her to light.
Mayhap Selina was having a difficult time finding something suitable for her to wear. Arline felt certain that Selina would appear at any moment, her arms filled with clean clothes and linens, and a sensible explanation.
With no fire to help dry her hair, she felt cold. The room, devoid of any warmth, left her with that old sense of longing. She had lived a solitary existence in a castle full of people for many months and this room left her feeling as though she were back at Garrick’s keep.
Drawing the drying cloth around her
shoulders for warmth, she explored the room. The drawers in the writing desk were empty, as was the large cupboard that sat in the corner by the fireplace. She had the same results with the trunk at the foot of the bed. Nothing to even hint that anyone had ever lived in this room.
She sat in the chair at the writing desk and took the drying cloth to her hair. Her skin turned to gooseflesh as she attempted to dry her long locks without knotting them. After a time, the cool air coming in through the open windows became far too chilly. She went to the bed and pulled on her cloak. At least it was some form of warmth.
The longer she was made to wait the more frustrated she became. She walked around the room, trying to keep warm, and trying to convince herself that she had not been forgotten.
Rowan had been far too much of a gentleman to have forgotten her, hadn’t he? Had he not made sure she had food aplenty and was warm on their journey here? He had.
Mayhap something was wrong. Mayhap someone had slipped another sleeping draught into the ale and someone was, at this very moment, making their way out of the keep with Lily! She was about to rush out of the room and below stairs when the door flew open. At first, she felt a great sense of relief until she saw who it was that was entering.
“Lady Beatrice,” Arline said unable to mask her surprise.
Beatrice entered the room in a great hurry, shutting the door behind her before hurrying to Arline. The woman looked positively beside herself with worry. “Lady Arline!” Beatrice exclaimed, taking Arline’s hands in hers. “There is no’ much time to explain, but I need ye to come with me!”
Arline’s first thought was that something was wrong with Lily. Her heart began to pound against her breast. “Is it Lily?” she asked worriedly.
“Nay, Lily is in good care,” Beatrice said as she tried to pull Arline to the door.
Arline would not move until she knew what had brought the woman here in such a frenzied state. “What is the matter, Lady Beatrice? Is the keep under attack?”
Beatrice stopped pulling on Arline and looked over her shoulder at the door. “Nay, the keep is no’ under attack. ’Tis ye that I worry over! Please, I beg ye to come with me. I promise I’ll explain meself, but I need ye to hurry.”
Arline stood her ground. “I’ll no’ leave this room until ye tell me what is the matter.”
Beatrice let out a frustrated breath and took Arline’s hands again. “’Tis Rowan.”
Arline’s brow drew into a knot. “Rowan? Is he ill? Injured?” What on earth could have happened to him in such a short amount of time?
Beatrice shook her head. “Nay, he’s no’ injured. And I suppose one could say he’s ill, but ’tis an illness of his own doin’.”
“I don’t understand,” Arline said. The woman wasn’t making any sense at all.
“Rowan has fallen back into the bottle, me lady.”
Rowan? A drunkard? Nay, she could not believe that.
Beatrice gave Arline’s hands a gentle squeeze. Worry was etched across her beautiful face and she seemed quite sincere. “Lady Arline, I ken it be hard to believe, but Rowan, he has no’ been well since his Kate died. He’ll go months without so much as a drop of anything stronger than weak wine. Then something happens and he takes up the whisky. Och! When he’s no’ drinkin’ he is the kindest man ye’d ever meet! But when he’s in the bottle? Och! He’s not himself. He turns mean and angry.”
Arline felt her heart crack. The poor man! He still grieved over losing his wife and that grief led him to drink. “I should go to him!” Arline said and started toward the door. Beatrice stopped her.
“Nay!” Beatrice cried out. “Ye must stay away from him!”
Rowan had done so much for her. How could she in good conscience leave him alone in his time of need? “Mayhap if I talk to him--”
Beatrice stopped her. “Nay, ye don’t understand. ’Tis ye that he is mad at.”
“Me?” That made absolutely no sense. Arline had done nothing to earn his ire.
“He is below stairs, in his library, drinkin’. I had to leave him to come warn ye. I dunna ken why he is so angry with ye, me lady, but he is. Out of his mind. He keeps calling ye--” she paused as if the words were to painful to say.
“Calling me what?” Arline wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“I’m sorry, me lady, I truly am. Ye must no’ take it to heart. When he is drinkin’ he canna control his tongue or his fists.”
Arline shook her head as if doing so would bring some clarity to the moment. “Lady Beatrice, please, tell me what he said.”
Beatrice took a deep breath and cast her eyes to the floor. “He’s calling ye Blackthorn’s whore.”
He might have well slapped her across the face, the shock was the same. Blackthorn’s whore?
Beatrice wasn’t finished. “I’m so verra sorry, me lady. But he is so angry. He says ye may well have helped take care of Lily, but ye were still married to Garrick Blackthorn and still his whore. I left and came to ye as quickly as I could because he was talking about tossing ye into the dungeon. He says he doesna feel he can trust ye.”
Arline felt numb, cold to her bones, and very much alone. She knew, from the many nights she had listened to her father drink himself into a stupor, that men said things while drunk that they would never say during a sober moment. And sometimes they spoke their true hearts.
Rowan apparently thought very little of her. Had he made the offer of a home and position caring for Lily so that he could keep a close eye on her? Did he think she was a spy, working to gain knowledge for Garrick.
“I truly did no’ want to tell ye this, me lady. It breaks me heart to do so. He’ll be fine in a few days. But ye must stay out of his sight until he’s done with the drink.”
Arline was too stunned, far too hurt to utter a sound.
“We have a room fer ye, above stairs. He never ventures up there and ye’ll be safe. Fer now, he’s ordered that we treat ye more prisoner than guest. We canna give ye any clean clothes, ye canna come to the gathering room fer yer meals. If he sees ye, he is liable to order ye tossed in the dungeon.”
She had traded one prison for another. “How often does he get like this, Beatrice?” Arline mumbled.
“Och, only every other month.”
Every other month? How could she spend every other month in hiding while she was supposed to be here taking care of Lily? Lily, the poor babe. What pain must the poor babe suffer through when her father was like this?
“What of Lily?” Arline asked.
“Och! He’d never hurt her, no matter how badly he drinks. He loves that child more than anything.”
There was some relief in knowing that Rowan would never hurt Lily. The poor child. How could a man as kind and honorable as the one she had come to know these past few days turn into such a monster?
Blackthorn’s whore. Is that what he truly thought of her? It made her ill to think that he did. She felt angry and hurt and violated. Even more so than when Garrick had beat her senseless and tossed her out of his home.
“He’ll be fine a few days, me lady. But fer now, we must keep ye safe and hidden.”
Mindlessly, Arline grabbed her dress and old chemise and followed Lady Beatrice out of the room and to the third floor. It was so very difficult to wrap her head around the prospect that the man she had come to care so much for was in truth a drunkard and a mean one at that. How could he think such things about her?
They made their way down a long narrow corridor. Arline could tell that Beatrice was doing her best to make her feel better. “Please, me lady, do not worry over it. Just a few days, and ye’ll see, he will be his old self again.”
Arline wondered which Rowan was the true Rowan? The kind, handsome, tender, honorable man or the mean drunk? She’d only known him but a few days so she could not rightly answer that question at the moment. She could only assume that Beatrice had known him longer and therefore she had a better insight to the man. Beatrice seemed genuinely concerned for her
wellbeing and Arline could not detect even the slightest note of insincerity.
They finally reached their destination. Beatrice opened the door and led Arline inside. It was a very small room. But at least here, she had blankets. Small comfort but a comfort nonetheless. An old chair sat in the corner, the pallet and blankets along one wall. A few trunks sat along the opposite wall and in the center of the room was a brazier. It might not have been as open and spacious as the room she had just left, but at least she would be out of Rowan’s path. And there were the makings for a fire.
“My maid, Joan, will bring ye a meal verra soon, me lady,” Beatrice said from the door. “I ken it be not much of a room, but here, ye will be safe.”
“What of Lily? I was to take care of her.” Arline’s voice began to crack.
Beatrice smiled thoughtfully at Arline. “She’s in good hands, me lady. Selina is taking care of her.” Beatrice left, quietly closing the door behind her.
Arline stood in the center of the tiny room feeling lost and hurt. Knowing Selina was taking care of Lily lightened Arline’s heart somewhat. But still, she wished she could go see for herself that Lily was doing well.
Arline could sense that the people here did care a great deal for Lily. The women had practically smothered the child with hugs and kisses earlier. But what of the one person here who had slipped the sleeping draught into the ale? Could that person still be lurking about, only pretending to have good feelings toward their chief and his child? Would that person be foolish enough to try again?
With Rowan deep in his cups, now would be a perfect opportunity for them to strike again.
She grew quite angry. How could Rowan lower his defenses at a time like this? How could he drink himself into a stupor when the traitor had yet to be found? What was the man thinking?
Pacing the room, which was no more than eight steps by eight steps, Arline chewed on her thumbnail and tried to work the events out quietly. The more she worked them over in her mind, the angrier and more hurt she became.
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