“Do not dwell upon the past, my friend. You cannot change it.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Iain’s lips. “Wise advice,” he said. “You should remember that when you think of Mrs. Munro. She is not Mary.”
“No one will ever replace your beloved wife,” he added. “Take care that you are not filling your heart with another just because you want to feel love again. You should only settle your affections upon someone who is worthy.”
“Why would she be considered unworthy by anyone?” Benjamin asked. “Is it because she does not come from a fine family or have forty thousand pounds for a dowry?”
“You knew more about Mrs. Donnelly than you do her!” Iain said. “With that woman, it was clear what her intentions were. We know not what Mrs. Munro seeks. She could have visited Richard MacDonald at the campsite and warned him. Or, she could still work for your father. His letter could be a ruse.”
Benjamin shook his head. “I do not perceive guile. I believe her to be a kind woman.”
“She may be a kind woman, but I do not see innocence in her eyes. Mrs. Munro has a secret.”
“Dammit, Iain! She does have a secret. She said she is from the future. She does not speak of it to anyone. I imagine it is a heavy burden to be from another time and place.”
“Do you believe her tale then?”
“I do not know what I believe anymore. I have never felt more confused in my life.”
“Then, I urge you not to make any rash decisions. Take care in your actions, my friend. You have so much to lose.”
Benjamin exhaled slowly. He felt no more settled now than he did when he first arrived at what was normally a peaceful spot. As he mounted his horse, he told Iain, “Thank you for your counsel. If you will excuse me, I would like some time to consider my decision.”
He rode away without looking back at his friend. If this spot offered no solace, he knew of another place that might calm his restless spirit.
Thirty Four
Benjamin pushed open the chapel door and winced at the sound of the creaky hinges. He mentally noted that he should send someone to grease them. He could not allow the grating sound to disturb the sweet silence.
To his surprise, he saw Tilly sitting at the front pew. He quietly slipped beside her. He immediately noticed that her eyes were red and puffy as if she had been crying. “What is the matter?” he asked.
Without looking at him, she replied, “Today was my wedding anniversary.” She turned to face him. “Should I still celebrate such things even though my husband is dead?”
“Aye, of course,” he said, daring to take her hand. He was relieved that she did not pull it away. “If the day was a happy one, you should always remember it.”
“It was. We were very much in love.” She smiled weakly. “We went to City Hall with my friend Beth and her husband. The whole ceremony lasted ten minutes. Afterward, Beth and Randall bought us dinner and handed us a key to fancy hotel room, where we spent our first night as husband and wife.”
Tilly sighed. “I always dreamed of having a big wedding with a poufy gown and large bouquet of flowers. Instead, I wore a blue dress that I bought for someone else’s wedding and carried some wildflowers we picked along the highway.”
“Why did you not have the wedding of your dreams?”
“I knew my parents couldn’t afford that kind of affair. And, Alex had been married before, so he wasn’t interested. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You sound as if you regret it now.”
“It saddens me more to think that I will never have that moment with my daughter Anna,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Parents aren’t supposed to die before their children. I feel as if I have this huge hole in my chest.”
Benjamin gently brushed away her tears. “You rarely speak of your family. Would you like to talk about them?”
She accepted the handkerchief he handed her and wiped her eyes. “If I start talking about them, I am afraid I won’t be able to stop!” she exclaimed in agony. She glanced up at Benjamin and reluctantly said, “Despite all the problems Alex and I had, our children were our top priority. We wanted them to have everything. My husband thought that meant material things. I believed they needed love and attention.”
“It was tough at times to have twins,” she continued. “I was a new mom. One baby would have been a challenge – but two at once? It was difficult.”
“At least you did not have two boys,” he teased. He was happy that his comment produced a smile.
“I’m not sure if I could have managed that! Your boys are a handful.”
“Was John as mischievous as Angus or Michael?”
She thought for a moment before replying, “No, John was more like Allan. He could be boisterous as any child can, but he preferred being alone. He loved to sit in his room and play with building blocks and draw pictures.”
“And, what was Anna like?”
“When she was a toddler, she was into everything. I constantly chased after her, taking away whatever object she found. She wanted to explore every nook and cranny of the house.”
“Did she outgrow her inquisitiveness?”
“Not really. She loved to read and explore. Her favorite places were museums and parks. She had such a thirst for knowledge.”
Benjamin wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Please do not feel that you cannot speak about your family with me,” he said. “They will always be a part of your life, just as Mary was a part of mine. Let us treasure the happy memories.”
“I try to focus on the good times,” she said, briefly closing her eyes. “I don’t want to obsess over their tragic deaths. They deserve better than that.”
“Yes, they do.”
She stared at him. “How do you cope, Benjamin?” she asked. “It’s not as if you have a support group or a psychiatrist you can visit in this time. How do you deal with your grief?”
He considered her questions for a moment. “I do not have much choice in the matter. Many people depend upon my strength and leadership for their survival. I must put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. I do not have the luxury of mourning.” He smiled ruefully. “When we met, you saw me in a rare, private moment. It was the first time I had allowed myself to grieve.”
“We share a mutual heartache,” she said. “If you want to talk, I will listen. Maybe we can figure out together how we are supposed to go on with our lives.”
He dropped his head and allowed a single tear to escape his eye. “Thank you,” he said. He felt the great weight of guilt on his heart. “I am sorry, Tilly. For everything.”
She furrowed her brow. “Everything?” she asked.
“Yes. You have endured great hardship. I hope that my attitude has not made your life worse.”
She released his hand and wrapped her arms around him. Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she whispered into his ear, “You have given me hope, Benjamin.”
He pulled her close to him. He savored the warmth of her supple body and inhaled the scent of her – lavender, he thought. He closed his eyes. He decided he would allow himself a few moments of happiness before he turned his mind to more serious matters. In this quiet spot and in the safety of her arms, he found the peace he so desperately sought.
∞
After dinner that evening, he returned to his study and re-read his father’s letter. He knew Mr. Murphy had found suitable accommodation for the messenger so a reply could wait until the morning. He also realized that he would not sleep until he put quill to paper and answered the correspondence.
He stared at the blank parchment for some time before the words finally came to him. He carefully scratched a brief reply. He shook sand onto the page to dry the ink. Then, he sealed the document with a thick, red blob of wax, careful to affix his personal seal. He wanted it to be clear to his father that the words were his, no one else’s.
His task complete, he extinguished the candles, banked the fire, and headed for bed.
Benjamin fell into the deep slumber of an unfettered mind.
Thirty Five
The next morning, Tilly descended the stairs and found the house in an uproar. Mr. Murphy scurried around the entrance, barking orders for the servants to make haste. She spotted a few horses outside the open front doors. Before she could ask what happened, she saw Benjamin.
He motioned for her to follow him to his study. He quickly closed the door behind them. “We received word that Iain’s father, Robert, is dead,” he said. “We do not know how. It is very mysterious.”
“Do you think someone killed him?” Tilly asked, shocked and terrified at the same time.
“I do not know.” He looked grim. “We are leaving for the farm now. It may be tomorrow before we return.”
“Tell Iain I am so sorry for his loss,” she said, her eyes watery. “Is there anything I can do?”
They heard heavy footsteps coming toward the study. “Say nothing to the boys,” he said. “Stay close to the castle, and you will be safe.”
The door swung open. Iain stood in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot. “The horses are ready,” he announced. He would not look at Tilly.
She moved forward anyway and tried to hug him. “Thank you, madam,” he said gruffly as he pushed her away. He seemed surprised at her gesture. “We must be leaving. It will be a difficult journey.”
She was unsure if he referred to the trip or the task of burying his father’s body. She managed a weak smile as she watched the men leave.
∞
Ironically, they were blessed with a rare sunny day. Mr. Ramsey – or Daniel, as he preferred to be called - decided it would be the perfect time to have a practical lesson about botany. He found the appropriate books in the library and offered to include all of the boys if Tilly would not mind. Looking for any reason to be outdoors, she happily accepted.
She watched Daniel and Sarah walk in front of her, each carrying an armload of books into the garden. They chatted amiably and laughed at some joke Sarah made. It appeared the two were quite taken with each other, as she initially suspected.
The warm weather made Michael and Stephen a bit lax about specimen hunting. In no time, they drifted to the stream that ran beside the garden and tossed rocks into it. Daniel removed his stockings and dipped his feet in the cool water. Tilly noticed that Sarah looked away. Was it just as improper to see a man’s ankles as it was to see a lady’s?
She found Allan studying a leaf he held in his hand. As she spent more time with him, she found him to be a very quiet, observant child. He carefully compared the illustration in the book he carried to the actual leaf, a slight crease in his brow when he concentrated. His brother Angus looked over his shoulder, pretending to be equally fascinated by the subject.
When she offered to help them find specimens, Allan suggested that they head into the forest. He knew the location of several oaks and other trees mentioned in the book. A hike in the woods sounded like an excellent idea in such fine weather. We should be close enough to the castle that it is safe, she thought fleetingly.
Of course, wherever Allan went, Angus followed. As the trio walked through the forest, Allan entertained them with stories of ghosts and fey who would hide in the woods and attack unsuspecting travelers. He pointed toward the chapel that stood at the end of the trail on which they walked. “They say a headless horseman sometimes rides this path,” he said gravely. “He will not pass the chapel, for he fears to tread on holy ground.”
She knew he meant to scare them and found it highly amusing. Judging from the wide-eyed look on Angus’ face, she feared his younger brother took the tales very seriously, though. She hoped the boy would not have nightmares tonight.
On the path ahead, a tall man blocked their way. Stringy hair retreated from the top of his head, with a few remaining greasy strands clinging to the sides and hanging limply on his shoulders. He wore a thick, graying beard that contained the remnants of a recent meal as well as an assortment of twigs and leaves. A threadbare kilt hung loosely around his thin frame. He wore no shirt. Tilly could see his ribs poking through pale white skin smeared with dirt and glistening with sweat. He must have been living in the forest for some time, for she could smell the foul stench of unwashed flesh and rustic life in the wild.
It was the first time she had seen a man wearing a kilt since she arrived in this time. It was not the sexy sight described in romance novels. A distinctly lethal air surrounded the man. He was flesh and blood, not one of Allan’s fey. She carefully stepped in front of the children, blocking them from view.
“I have no quarrel with you, woman,” he said. He smiled, revealing a set of black, rotting teeth. Pointing to the boys, he added, “I would like to have a word with the children.”
Tilly felt Allan move behind her and grabbed his arm. “Whatever you have to say to them, you can say to me,” she said, chin held high. She did not like the tone of his voice.
He stared at her as if he was considering something. Finally, he nodded his head and said, “I suppose it would serve to have someone who can tell the tale to Benjamin.”
That sounds ominous, she thought. She mentally calculated how far they were from the others. It was highly unlikely that they could reach their party before the man caught them. She hoped fear did not show on her face.
“My name is Richard MacDonald,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She involuntarily stepped back. Oh, shit, she thought.
“Benjamin and his father killed my sister and my brother. I promised my father I would not seek vengeance while he lived.” He took another step toward them and grinned with barely-concealed menace. “He never made me promise not to strike after he was dead.”
His hand hovered over the hilt of a short sword hanging from his belt. He noticed Tilly staring at it. “It is the MacDonald blade,” he said, his fingers lightly tapping the hilt. “I have dreamt of this moment every single day for the last sixteen years. The boys will taste its iron before the sun sets this day.”
Suddenly, he closed the distance between them and seized her arm. She screamed and yanked her arm free. Before she could flee, Richard swung his fist and struck her square in the jaw. Tilly saw a flash of stars and fell hard onto the ground. At that moment, she understood the phrase “knocked senseless.” She struggled to remain conscious, placing a trembling hand upon her throbbing jaw.
“Stand aside, woman,” he commanded, trying to grab Allan. “I promise not to hurt you. I only want the children.”
She stuck out her foot and tripped him. As he hurled forward, Tilly scrambled to her feet. She pushed Allan away from the man’s grasp and frantically cried, “Run, boys! RUN!!”
She turned to her attacker. She needed to give the boys some time to escape. She knew she was no match for the man. She had to try something, though. She planted her feet as she learned in self-defense class. Curling the fingers of her right hand firmly against her palm, she drove the heel of her hand with all her strength into the man’s nose. With a sickening feeling, she felt his bones shatter.
He stepped away from her, blood gushing from his nose. “You bitch! You broke my nose!” he shouted in fury. He cursed her and the woman who brought her into this world as he clutched his nose.
She ignored his foul language and massaged her hand, knowing her blow hurt him far more than it did her. She turned and spotted Angus running at top speed down the trail. It brought a smile to her face until she realized that Allan had not followed his brother. He held a small dagger in his hand and intended to charge the MacDonald.
Even though tears streamed from his eyes, Tilly knew that Richard saw the boy. He was prepared for the attack. When Allan moved toward him, he easily pushed the boy to the ground. Judging from the fierce look on his face, his vengeance would wait a few moments longer. He advanced toward her. It was obvious that his earlier promise would be broken.
Despite her instincts, she let him get close to her. Then, she kicked him in the groin. He doubled over, groaning
loudly but managing to stay afoot. She moved to the right. She meant to snatch Allan and make a run for it.
Unfortunately, her attacker was faster. He clutched her left arm and pulled her toward him. His grip was like a vice. “I will kill you first, then send wee Allan to the devil where he belongs!” he roared, his foul breath on her face.
She pummeled his chest with her fists, all in vain, as she desperately tried to break free. She struggled to check the rising panic, knowing she needed to focus if they had any chance to survive. Then, her hand brushed against the hilt of the short sword in his waistband. Now was not the time for a moral debate. The man would kill her and the rest of the Campbell family. Without hesitation, she drew the blade from its sheath.
He held her so close that she instinctively recognized her targets were limited. She saw an exposed area. In one swift movement, she plunged the sword underneath his chin, jamming it into his brain. The shock of the blow reverberated down her arm. She tried to jerk away, but he did not release her. His eyes widened. His body tumbled backward, pulling her down on top of him.
They landed with a thud, knocking the wind out of her. Tilly took several deep breaths. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her heart beat so hard and loud against her chest that she feared it might explode. She was on the verge of hysteria. She desperately needed to calm herself, if only for Allan’s sake. She looked up and discovered him staring at her. “You are safe now,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
The boy pried Richard’s filthy fingers from her arm and helped her to her feet. She stumbled as he led her a few feet away from the body and deposited her onto a rock. She was shaking from head to toe.
She looked down at her hands and saw the blood. She felt wetness on her cheeks. It must have splattered onto her face as well. Suck it up, Tilly. You are about to go bat guano crazy, and it is not the time for such things! she told herself.
“Madam, let me help you,” Allan said, with great composure. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently cleaned her. His hands did not shake. His calm helped to steady her.
Through the Mist: Restoration Page 23