The more Maggy had thought about it over the past days, the more she realized that while Helena may have slept with Gawter, she had kept their secret safe. It didn’t matter to Maggy why Helena had kept the secret, nor why or how she had ended up sharing a bed with Gawter. All the truly mattered was the fact she had, at the least, not betrayed Ian.
She had not seen Findley since the night he rescued her and Ian from the Buchannan keep. He had reluctantly left her in the care of Wee William, Rowan and some fifty MacDougall men whilst he went back to the Buchannan keep to help with the dead and wounded. Findley had promised he would return as soon as he was able. She had been too tired to argue with him, and to heartbroken to do anything but agree. Maggy knew the longer they were together, the harder it would be to say goodbye.
And say goodbye she must, for news spreads quickly in the Highlands. She had received word from Laird Brockton just that morn, that her presence was expected at Castle Maldreigh within three days.
Maggy sat in a comfortable chair by the fire, reading for the twentieth time, Laird Brockton’s missive. She looked every bit the lovely Lady de Menteith, dressed as she was in an elegant gown of yellow silk and matching damask slippers. Surrounded by beautiful furnishings, a maid standing nearby to do whatever bidding Maggy might give, opulent and luxurious fabrics spread upon her bed and dripping from the windows, one would think there could be no sorrow in such a fine room.
But Maggy’s heart was filled with sorrow. She missed Findley beyond measure and nothing anyone could say or do could break her melancholy. Lord knows that Wee William and Rowan had tried over the days to lift her spirits, as had her sons. The only thing that made her feel better was the knowledge that Liam and Collin had arrived safely at Castle Gregor. But as soon as Laird Brockton learned of Liam’s whereabouts, he would send for him as well.
She had slept nearly non-stop the first three days after arriving at the Kinleighs home, yet somehow she still felt tired and weary. She ate little and declined Lady Judith’s invitations to dine with them or to join her in their grand solar to embroider, sew, or otherwise pass the time.
Maggy had no desire for small talk and definitely no desire to start living the life of a lady again. She longed for the days when she and her boys were all together. She missed fishing with them and seeing their excited faces when they’d caught a rabbit or pheasant for their supper. She missed the evenings they spent around the fire where she told them stories of Beowulf and Grendel. It was the simple life, free from men making demands of her or bargains to gain her hand in marriage. Och! What she would not do to go back to those days.
And if not those particular days, then she wished for a simple life that she could spend with Findley. With each memory of him, her heart broke a bit more. When she thought of the number of days that lay ahead of her, thousands of them and none of them with Findley at her side, her heart broke even more. Unbelievable sadness filled her, knowing she could no more go back to her old life than she could change the future that lay ahead of her.
There came a gentle rapping at her door, which Maggy ignored. She told her maid to send whoever it was away, for she had no desire to see anyone. She wanted to keep to herself, remain alone and private in her misery.
Lost as she was in her own thoughts, she did not realize it was Lady Judith until the woman sat in the chair in front of her.
“Lady Judith,” she whispered with a slight nod of her head. “I am sorry, but I am not feeling well this day. I do no’ make good company.”
Lady Judith studied Maggy closely for a moment. She knew it wasn’t the ague or other disease that paled Maggy’s skin or put the dark circles under her eyes. ’Twas a broken heart.
“Lady Margaret,” she began.
Maggy held her hand up. “Please, do no’ call me that. I do no’ wish to be referred to as Lady de Menteith, or any other title for that matter. I wish to simply be Maggy again.”
Judith lifted an eyebrow and pursed her lips. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils and chose her words very carefully. “You’re being a selfish twit,” she said bluntly.
Maggy’s eyes widened, quite astonished with Lady Judith’s insult. “Selfish? Me?” she shook her head in disbelief. “What do ye ken of me heart or why I feel the way I do?”
Judith shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes. “Do ye think yer the only woman ever to have a broken heart? Do ye think yer the only woman ever to curse being born a female or never having a say in her own future?”
Maggy’s brow creased as she took a deep breath. “Nay, I ken I’m not the first, nor shall I be the last. But it still does nothin’ to make me feel better.”
“Maggy,” Judith folded her hands in her lap. “Ye have five sons yer blessed with. ’Tis time ye started thinking of them.”
Maggy stood abruptly and went to stand before the tall window. “I do think of me sons! I think of them all the time and I worry what will happen to them! Laird Brockton will surely send all but Liam away and then what? What happens to Robert, Andrew, Collin and Ian?” she choked back the tears and tried to tamp down her worry over them. Her only prayer was that Findley would take them in for she knew Laird Brockton or any future husband he might bargain for her, would not be willing to take in all of her sons. The thought of never seeing them again made her stomach ache.
“Laird Brockton will no’ let me keep them,” she said as she wiped away an errant tear. “No doubt he’s already found a man for me to marry and it would no’ be any man of my choosing! I’ll lose them, all of them.”
She stared out at the rolling hills of the Kinleighs lands. The trees had lost most of their leaves. The nearly bare branches, black from yesterday’s rains, stood straight and tall against a lead-gray sky and seemed to match Maggy’s dark mood.
Her biggest worry out of all of this was Liam. What kind of man would be grow up to be if she were forced to marry some weak, sniveling fool or worse yet, another cruel and unkind man like Gawter? Would he not have any positive men in his life, men like Findley, who would show him how to be strong, brave, and honorable?
Judith remained seated by the fire as she watched and listened to Maggy. She knew Maggy’s heart was breaking and she felt like she had no control over her own life. Judith remembered feeling much that same way some twenty years ago when she had fallen in love.
“Maggy,” Judith said quietly. “I ken ye worry over yer sons, but hear my words now. ’Tis them ye must concentrate on. Do whatever ye can to insure they grow up to be good men. Ye might not be able to control every facet of yer world, lass, that much I’ll give ye. But ye can control how yer lads are raised.”
Maggy spun around, anger etched across her face and burned in her eyes. “How can I do that if they’re all sent away?” she seethed.
“Ye can choose where they go and what influences anyone might have on Liam. Ye especially can show him.”
“How, Lady Judith?” Maggy asked, her voice laced with confusion and desperation. She couldn’t fathom at the moment how she could have any positive influence on any of her sons if she weren’t with them or if she were forced to marry some vile or despicable man.
“By example!” Judith said as she stood up and came to stand by Maggy. “Ye show yer lads that yer strong, lass! Ye show Liam how a woman can be dutiful yet strong. Ye show him that his first duty is to his family, then his people. Show the lad how to be strong, kind and loving by being strong, kind and loving for him. Ye lead by yer own example.”
Maggy understood what Judith meant but it did nothing to ease her broken heart. There were more than just five young boys counting on her. There were people at Castle Maldreigh who would depend upon her, as well as the farmers and tenants that were spread across the vast holdings that Liam had inherited. Aye, they would all look to her as an example.
“But what if the husband Laird Brockton chooses does no’ allow me to have a say in anythin’?” Maggy murmured. ’Twas a very distinct possibility that Brockton would choose someone wh
o would not allow Maggy any say in the running of her own life or that of her son, and that angered her to no end.
“Och! Maggy, yer a woman fer the sake of Christ!” Judith said as she took hold of Maggy’s arms. She was fully prepared to shake some sense into her if she must. “Yer a woman and ’tis time ye started actin’ like it!”
Maggy stared back at Judith, quite surprised at her tone and choice of words. While Maggy had only met her on a few brief occasions some years ago, she could not have considered her a friend until this very moment.
“Maggy, ’tis time ye went home,” Judith told her. “And ye do what ye must to move forward. Ye find a way to be an example to yer lads and the rest will fall into place.”
“Judith, I miss him,” Maggy said as the tears began to flow freely. “I miss him so much that me heart feels as if it’s been torn in two and it will never mend!”
Judith drew Maggy into her arms. “Aye, I know that feeling all to well lass,” she whispered. And she did know, for years ago, she herself had fallen in love with a braw, strong man. A man she loved more than her next breath. The memory of when she had to say goodbye to him was as fresh and vivid as if it had happened only this morn. Her father had done everything in his power to insure the two of them could never be together. But Judith also knew that sometimes fate intervenes. And nothing man does can stop it.
“Are ye ready, Maggy, to give yer lads a home now?” Judith asked as she rubbed Maggy’s back.
Maggy wiped her tears on her sleeve and sniffed knowing what Judith referred to. Though she firmly believed that home was wherever your family was, there was so much more that she could give her boys. Mayhap Judith had been right to call her selfish.
All these years she’d been so worried about being forced into another loveless marriage that she hadn’t thought about the hardships she’d put her sons through. Aye, she knew the sacrifices she had been making, but what sacrifices had she asked of her sons?
Aye, they’d been loved and she had given them everything she possibly could, but yet, there was more she could have done. How many nights had she lain in bed wishing she could give them a warm home, one where the walls kept out the bitter winter winds or the pounding summer rains but hadn’t? How many times had she had to send them to bed with nothing more in their stomachs than warm broth and dry bread when she had the power to give them so much food, they’d have grown fat?
How many times had she patched torn tunics or given them clothes far too big, when they could have had clothes made from the softest lawn or cotton?
And what of the responsibilities thrust upon Robert to act as the man of the house when he should have been playing at carefree games of childhood?
She’d robbed them all and for what reason? To keep herself free and from being thrust into another loveless marriage. She was a thief, robbing Liam of his heritage and birthright and the other boys from having a far better life than she had given them.
Guilt consumed her then and it made her stomach twist.
And what of Findley? She’d agreed to marry him knowing full well that Laird Brockton would never allow it. Another act of selfishness on her part just so that she might have one night of feeling loved, desired and cherished. And what good would come of it? How badly would Findley’s heart break when he returned and learned that they could not ever be together? She was a liar and a thief. She’d stolen her sons’ childhoods and their futures right along with Findley’s heart.
Maggy knew what she must do. She’d take her sons and return to Maldreigh. She might not have too much say in her own future, but she would do what she could for her sons.
And Findley? There was nothing to be done about that, other than beg his forgiveness, and promise him that no other man would own her heart. It would forever belong to him.
~~~
Wee William, Rowan and the other MacDougall men, along with a contingent of Kinleigh soldiers, had acted as escort for Maggy and her sons on their journey back to Maldreigh. The boys were each dressed in fine tunics, breeches and warm cloaks. Much to Ian’s dismay, he was forced to ride in the carriage with Maggy, while Robert and Andrew were allowed to ride atop fine horses with the other men.
Only a few short months ago, Ian would have been allowed to ride with the men, but everything was different now and it was very difficult for him to understand why. His mum refused to explain it and instead had given an answer that many parents give their young when they don’t believe the child capable of handling the truth of a matter: we’ll discuss it when yer old enough to understand.
He pouted most of the first day of their journey, refusing to speak to his mother on those rare occasions when she wasn’t looking out the window. Ian knew there was something serious happening but he couldn’t begin to guess just how serious a matter it was. He supposed that in the end it really didn’t matter, he was no longer in Malcolm Buchannan’s keep and he and his brothers would soon have a grand home in which to live.
None of the boys appreciated the new clothing they’d been given. Aye, ’twas nice to be warm, but the clothes were far too fancy for their liking. They would have much preferred a simple tunic, leather trews, and cloaks like the men around them wore. Robert mumbled that when he was older, he’d not wear such frilly and frivolous clothes to which both Andrew and Ian wholeheartedly agreed.
They finally arrived at Castle Maldreigh. It was an imposing sight to behold. Four stories tall and made from gray, black, blue, and red stones, it was to say the least, very impressive. Turrets and towers were abundant, as the castle seemed to stretch on forever. They entered through a large stone wall, crossed over a long stone bridge before spilling into the cobblestone courtyard.
The older boys dismounted and stared up at the castle. Ian nearly tripped over his own two feet in his mad scramble to be out of the infernal carriage. He stood beside his brothers, staring up at the magnificent building before them.
Wee William and Rowan dismounted and handed their horses off to one of their men. The men, coming to stand beside the boys, were also impressed with the castle and lands spread out before them.
“Ye must remember yer manners at all times, lads, in a place like this,” Wee William said as he ran his hand across Ian’s head.
“Aye,” was all Ian could manage to utter at the moment as something niggled at the back of his mind. He felt as though he had been here before but surely he’d remember a place like this.
“I pray they treat us better than the last time we were here,” Robert muttered. He was far from glad to be returning, for his memories of the place were not fond ones. He remembered Gawter and Laird Brockton far too well and he hadn’t cared for either of them.
“Aye,” Andrew agreed. While he had lived not far from here and hadn’t spent as much time in the castle as Robert, Liam and Ian had, he had heard enough stories about Laird Brockton to give him the willies.
Rowan helped Maggy from the carriage and took note of her red-rimmed eyes and still damp cheeks. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Ye’ll be all right, lass,” he told her. He could only hope that he was right.
Wee William had filled Rowan in as much as he was able on the story of how Lady Margaret de Menteith became Maggy Boyle. Admittedly, Wee William didn’t know all the facts and was sure there was much more of it to be told. But he had sworn an oath to Findley that he’d not leave Maggy’s side until he returned.
A tall, gray-haired man with a stooped back, opened the enormous wood doors and slowly walked down the stairs to stand before Maggy.
“Lady de Menteith, I presume?” he said with a scratchy voice and a slight bow at the waist.
“Aye,” Maggy said, not recognizing the man.
“I’m Daniel,” he said with another bow. “Laird Brockton put me in place here after your...” He had almost said death but thought better of it. “Departure.”
“’Tis good to meet ye, Daniel,” Maggy said. Wee William detected a slight note of something close to disgust in Maggy’s voice
. “I am sure ye’ve done a good job at keeping things in good repair in our absence,” she said before giving him a nod and heading up the stairs.
Everyone scrambled to follow Maggy into the castle. They stood in a grand foyer that opened up to a grand gathering room. Several large doors and doorways led from the room, which was open to the third story. The floor was bathed in a myriad of colors from the afternoon sun that streamed in through the stained glass windows.
“I think ye could fit two, mayhap three of Castle Gregor in this place,” Wee William said under his breath to no one in particular. Rowan agreed as he looked around the room.
Maggy didn’t bother with stopping to look. The worst years of her life were spent inside these walls. A flood of memories came crashing in and she wanted nothing more than to go to her room, but first she needed to see that her sons were settled.
“Daniel,” she said as she headed toward the spiral staircase. “See to it that my sons have the room next to mine.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “Do ye mean Laird Gawter’s old chambers?”
Maggy stopped on the stairs and turned to look down at him. He was one of Brockton’s men and she knew he was not one who could be trusted. “Nay, I mean the other room next to my chambers. I also want Rowan and Wee William to have rooms on that floor as well. Yer to afford them every comfort and every luxury while they’re here,” she instructed him with a firm voice. She was the lady of this castle and he would learn soon enough that she’d brook no impertinence from him.
“Aye, m’lady,” Daniel said with a bow. “Would you like to inspect the servants now?”
The way he said it made her skin crawl. They were people, not livestock. She was tempted to ask if he expected her to examine their teeth or hindquarters but decided it would do no good; the humor would fall on deaf ears.
“Nay, I shall meet with them later. For now, I’d like baths drawn for all of us. And see to our things, Daniel.”
Findley's Lass, Book Two of The Clan MacDougall Series Page 33