Through the Mist: Restoration

by C. Renee Freeman

  “Are you alright?” she asked, looking deeply into his eyes.

  “Aye, I am well,” he answered flatly. She could tell he was being brave for her. She wanted to hold him but suspected it might wound his pride.

  His task complete, Allan returned the soiled handkerchief to his pocket. He strode to the body and lightly kicked the MacDonald’s leg. He stared blankly at the man’s face.

  “Please come here, Allan,” Tilly said. “You don’t need to see that.”

  “No, I do,” he argued. “This man wanted to kill my family – and you too, Mrs. Munro. I should remember him.”

  If the boy could be brave, so could she. She rose to her feet and walked toward Allan. She lightly placed her arm around his shoulders.

  It was a gruesome sight. Richard MacDonald’s lifeless eyes stared at the canopy of trees above. Ruby red blood trickled down the sides of his mouth and out his broken nose. The sword was buried to the hilt under his chin. She did not realize how forceful the blow had been.

  Despite what he said, no child should not see this sight. Tilly turned Allan to face her. “Are you sure you are alright?” she asked.

  Before he could answer her, she heard racing footsteps on the trail behind them. She wondered if their attacker might have others in his party. Apparently, Allan felt the same way, for he retrieved his dagger and stood at the ready. She stepped in front of him and prayed she had the strength to take on more assailants.

  Two men charged up the trail and skidded to a stop when they saw the body lying on the ground. She recognized one of them as the sentry named Robbie. “Milord, have you and the mistress been harmed?” he asked.

  Allan drew himself to his full height. “We are well,” he replied, his voice strong. “Richard MacDonald cannot make the same claim.”

  The other man, a brawny fellow with hair as black as night, stepped forward and stared at the dead man’s face. “Aye, the bastard will have a well-deserved dance with the devil tonight,” he spat venomously. He kicked the corpse in the ribs. “Still, it does not serve the family to have a dead MacDonald on our lands.”

  “Do you think he had others with him, James?” Robbie asked, worriedly scanning the forest.

  “I do not believe so,” his companion replied. For good measure, he unsheathed the blade he carried on his waistband. “Nonetheless, let us away to the castle. We can collect the body once milord is safe.”

  James whipped his head to the side. With a nod to Robbie, he slipped behind a nearby tree.

  Reflexively, Tilly wrapped her arm around Allan. What now? she wondered. Her nerves were frayed. Then, she heard it. People were running on the trail and getting closer by the second.

  To her great relief, it was Sarah and Daniel. They halted when they saw the body. Daniel quickly recovered and asked, “Did he hurt you or the boy, miss?”

  “No,” Tilly said, her voice coming out in a whisper. She took a deep breath. She spoke again. This time, the sound was stronger. “We are fine.”

  James stepped out from his hiding spot. He stood beside Robbie who looked visibly shaken. “Are the rest of the children in the castle?” he asked Daniel.

  “Aye. They are safely cloistered in their rooms. More men are searching the forest, making sure the area is secure.”

  Sarah walked to the dead man’s body. She took one look at the man’s face and turned away. “It is Richard MacDonald,” she said to Daniel. “This is very bad.” She took a deep breath, briefly closing her eyes. Tilly thought the girl might faint.

  When Sarah opened her eyes again, she seemed resolute. She pointed to Daniel. “Take Allan to the castle,” she ordered. “Find Mr. Murphy and bring him here. Tell Mrs. Keith to wait for us at the south entrance. Speak to no one else.”

  He stared vacantly at her. She snapped her fingers. “Quickly!” she said.

  Daniel jumped. He moved toward Allan, but the boy refused to leave Tilly. Allan grabbed her arm and begged, “Please, I want to stay with you!”

  She placed a trembling hand on his cheek. “I need you to protect your brothers and sister,” she said with more calm than she felt. “Can you do that for me?”

  Allan stood a little taller and tightly grasped the hilt of his dagger. He nodded to her before he marched with Daniel down the trail.

  “How serious is the situation?” Tilly asked, looking from one person to another. The sentries stared at the ground, suddenly shy.

  “Murder is always serious,” Sarah answered vaguely.

  “It was obviously an act of self-defense, but you are a stranger here,” James said, at last. “There would be questions.”

  Tilly gulped. She remembered how primitive justice could be in this time. “Can we trust Mr. Murphy?” she asked.

  “Aye, it is in the family’s best interest to keep this secret,” James said, a bemused smile lighting his face. “Mr. Murphy always does what is best for the Campbells.”

  Tilly noted that he said nothing about doing what was best for her.

  ∞

  If Mr. Murphy was shocked at the scene, he said nothing. He arrived with the still pale Daniel, who carried a large bundle of burlap. He took a brief moment to survey the scene and took command of the situation. He told Daniel to go to the stable and find the stable master, Graeme. Daniel should return with a horse to carry the body. Graeme should bring three horses to the meadow outside the stable.

  Before Daniel turned to obey his orders, the butler seized the man by the collar and growled, “You say nothing of the errand you are doing, or you shall not live to see the morn!”

  Swallowing hard, Daniel replied, “You can be assured of my silence, sir. I swear it upon my life.” Then, he raced down the trail before Mr. Murphy could issue further threats upon his personage.

  The butler spread the burlap beside Richard MacDonald’s body. Robbie, James, and he lifted the dead man onto the cloth. They briefly considered whether or not they should remove the sword. They finally decided to leave it in place. They feared its removal would make the scene very messy. They tightly wrapped the body and left a handful of cloth at each end. Sarah kicked dirt over the blood stains on the trail, concealing the evidence of the dreadful deed.

  Tilly felt strangely detached from her body as she watched them work. When Mr. Murphy cleared his throat, she finally came to her senses and looked at him. He had been speaking to her, though she did not hear a word. “Milady, perhaps it would be best if Sarah and you returned to the castle now,” he repeated.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, pointing to the body. “No one must find him.”

  He walked over to her. He gently guided her toward the trail, blocking her vision of the burlap bundle. “Milady, this is not the first time I have taken up the difficult business of the Campbell family,” he said patiently. “Rest assured, I know a place where no one will ever discover Richard MacDonald.”

  She stared at him. Her life rested in his hands. She could be executed for what she did – if not by the justice system, then by an angry MacDonald. Unfortunately, she had little choice but to trust him. The body must be moved quickly. They could not wait until Benjamin returned, whenever that might be.

  She clutched his arm. “Please…” she pleaded, unable to finish the sentence.

  Lifting a hand to silence her, he leaned closer. “Milady, you saved the boy,” he whispered. “Let me save you.”

  A tear fell unchecked down her cheek. She nodded numbly and stumbled toward the castle.

  Thirty Six

  Never one to wait, Mrs. Keith met them on the trail. She tossed a cloak over Tilly’s shoulders and cinched it closed. Once properly covered, a casual observer could not see the bloodstains on her dress.

  Sarah and Mrs. Keith each grabbed an arm for support and ushered her into a hidden entrance of the castle. Tilly noticed that it led to the servants’ area in the basement. Looks like I will finally get that tour, she thought humorlessly.

  They took her to a room with two large fireplaces in whic
h roaring blazes were already set. She spotted a copper tub to the right, filled to the brim with hot water. The ladies hastily disrobed her, careful to tuck the stained dress out of her sight, and helped her into the tub. Mrs. Keith washed her hair while Sarah scrubbed all remaining traces of blood from her face, chest, and hands.

  Normally, Tilly would be upset by such intimate attentions. At the moment, she felt lost in a haze of disbelief. Was this the moment when she would finally awaken from her nightmare? She would emerge from this strange time in which she found herself, with only memories of a weird dream about living in the 1800s. This could not be real.

  She did not offer the usual murmur of thanks when they dried her and placed her in a clean gown. She merely stood there, lost in her thoughts. She killed a man. He was intent upon killing the boys and her, but he died by her hand nonetheless. How was she supposed to live with it?

  Shaking greatly, she asked Mrs. Keith, “Where is Benjamin?”

  ∞

  It was midday when the party finally arrived at the MacIver farm. Benjamin dreaded what he would find at the end of their journey. Robert taught him how to be a man. How could he face the loss of such a person? And, what if his death came because of the sins of the Campbell family? Could Benjamin live with that burden?

  At the sound of the approaching horses, Fiona MacIver ran from the cottage. She waved excitedly when she saw Iain. “I am so happy to see you!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I see you have brought your friends too!”

  Iain quickly dismounted from his horse and hugged his mother close. “When did it happen?” he asked, his voice raw with emotion. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Whatever do you mean, boy?” Furrowing her brow, she lifted her hand to his forehead and lightly touched it. “Are you crazed with fever?”

  When Robert MacIver emerged from the stable, the color drained from Iain’s face. “Da? Are you flesh and blood?” he asked. “Or, does your spirit haunt us?”

  Robert chuckled. “Are you daft? I am very much alive.” He glanced at Benjamin. “Lad, you are as pale as a ghost. What has happened?”

  Benjamin’s heart felt as if it stopped. He locked eyes with Iain before wheeling around the horse and commanding, “Stay with your family.”

  Iain would have nothing of it. “Like hell I will,” he growled. He swiftly mounted his horse and barked at the men in their party. “You stay here and guard the farm. Do not leave until I return.”

  As she watched them ride away, Mrs. MacIver balled her hands into fists and yelled in frustration, “Will someone tell me what has happened?”

  The men dismounted from their horses and made their way to the stable. One of the men stopped in front of Mrs. MacIver and answered her with great sorrow in his voice, “It was a trick. The MacDonald is at the castle.”

  She fell to her knees and began to pray.

  Thirty Seven

  The ride back to the castle was the longest of Benjamin’s life. He felt sick. Would he return to find his entire family slaughtered? Would Tilly be safe? Images of their lifeless bodies floated before his eyes. He shook his head and tried to focus, knowing that such morbid thoughts would not make the journey end sooner. And yet, they served one purpose. He knew he would kill Richard MacDonald as soon as he found him.

  It was dark when they finally arrived. He jumped from his horse and ran into the castle, shouting his children’s names in rapid succession.

  Mr. Murphy stopped him at the entrance. “Be quiet, milord,” he hissed. “Everyone is sleeping. All is well.”

  Benjamin relaxed at the news but then noticed the worry upon the man’s face. “What has happened?” he asked frantically.

  Mr. Murphy guided him into the study. He poured two glasses of whisky, handing one to his liege and saving one for himself. To Benjamin’s surprise, the man took a seat and slowly sipped the drink.

  He had never seen the man sit, much less drink. The situation must be very grave. Benjamin paced in front of him and waited as patiently as he could. His hands were shaking badly. “Tell me,” he finally demanded. The suspense was more than he could bear.

  The butler stared solemnly into the glass. “The MacDonald killed two sentries,” he said. “Then, he found Mrs. Munro, Allan, and Angus in the forest.”

  “Did he harm them?” Benjamin asked in desperation. He stopped pacing and stared deeply into Mr. Murphy’s eyes, praying his treasures were untouched.

  “No. Mrs. Munro is a remarkable woman, milord. She protected the boys.”

  “Where is Richard MacDonald?” Unconsciously, Benjamin grasped the hilt of the blade attached to his belt. “I would like to have a word with him.”

  Mr. Murphy paused to take a long drink. “I fear that will not be possible as he is indisposed at the moment,” he replied evenly. “He is at the bottom of the old well.”

  Benjamin knew the spot. It was located near the ruins of the original castle. The well was long dry but no doubt functioned for centuries as the last resting place for many wayward souls. No one would ever find a body there.

  “Was he alive when you tossed him there?”

  “No, milord, he most assuredly was not.”

  “Then, who killed him?”

  “Mrs. Munro.”

  “What? How?” Benjamin collapsed into a chair, stunned. He expected the man was killed by one of his sentries or even Mr. Murphy. He never expected Tilly to do the deed.

  “Mrs. Munro and the boys have been understandably distraught after the experience,” Mr. Murphy said coolly, rising from his seat and placing the empty glass on the desk. “I suggest you speak with them in the morning.”

  Before the man could leave the room, Benjamin asked quietly, “What will you tell my father?”

  Mr. Murphy offered a slow, small smile. “I will tell him you have succeeded in finding two wonderful teachers for the boys,” he said. With that, he silently slipped from the room and returned to his duties as butler.

  ∞

  Benjamin knew he should let the boys sleep, but he could not rest until he saw them in the flesh. He first stopped at Angus’ room and found him snoring in his bed. He was relieved to see the boy had not suffered serious trauma.

  His son Allan, on the other hand, was wide awake and waiting for him. He was stoic until his father hugged him. Then, he burst into tears as he recounted the horrifying tale. He wanted to be a brave man. He hoped his father understood that he tried but was too small. “If Mrs. Munro had not been there, the bad man would have hurt the family, and it would have been all my fault,” he cried, hot tears pouring down his reddened face.

  “Oh, I know you showed great courage, lad,” Benjamin said soothingly. “You did not run. You tried to help Mrs. Munro. I know you did. I am proud of you. What happened is not your fault.”

  The words seemed to comfort his son. He tucked Allan into bed and watched him fall asleep. As he left the bedroom, he nodded at the guard who sat beside the fireplace. Mr. Murphy thoughtfully posted guards in each child’s bedroom. Benjamin would sleep better tonight knowing that help was close at hand, though he suspected no other MacDonalds would come.

  He almost lost two children today. He could not imagine what his life would have been like if the MacDonald succeeded. Tilly knew that pain – and he wanted to thank her for saving his sons.

  Thirty Eight

  Benjamin quickly climbed the stairs and made his way to Tilly’s room. For the first time, it did not matter what anyone would think if they saw him. Propriety be dammed, he thought.

  When he heard no answer to his knock, he entered the empty receiving room and proceeded directly to her bedchamber. All the while, he cursed his father for the maze of rooms one must navigate to finally reach the person one wanted to see. And, he desperately wanted to see her tonight.

  He knocked on her bedchamber’s door. She did not answer. The hour was very late. He decided she must be asleep and did not want to wake her. Sighing heavily, he knew his thank you would have to wait until the morning.
>
  With a disappointed heart, he made his way down the stairs. He found it odd that the guard sat outside the door to his rooms. Why didn’t the man sit in his study? Shaking his head, he entered the room. He was too tired to question the man at this late hour.

  When he entered his own bedchamber, he understood why the man kept a discreet distance. He found Tilly standing in front of the fireplace. She held a glass in her hand and stared upward at the shield hanging above the mantle. She turned when he walked into the room. He could tell she had been crying. He watched her drop the glass onto the floor, where it shattered into tiny pieces. He noticed how ragged her breathing was when she looked at him.

  He rushed to her side, eager to be near her. With a trembling hand, he gently caressed her cheek. When she winced, he spotted the ugly purple bruise blossoming upon her jawbone. At that moment, he was glad the MacDonald was dead, or he would have killed him a thousand times over.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. Despite his best efforts, he could not stop the tears from flowing.

  Tilly gently wiped them from his cheeks. “Are the MacIvers safe?” she asked.

  “Aye, they are both alive. The message was a trick to lure us away from the castle.”

  “I am so glad they are okay,” she said, with a relieved sigh. “We have had enough death today.”

  He nodded in agreement. He stared at the courageous woman who stood before him. “Thank you,” he repeated. “If I live a hundred lifetimes, I will never be able to repay you for what you did.”

  She gazed deeply into his eyes. “I can think of one way you can repay me,” she whispered. “Right now, I don’t care if you believe me. I just don’t want to feel this pain. I killed a man today. He deserved it, but he is dead because of me.” Tears tumbled down her cheeks. “My whole world is upside down. I am in a strange time, surrounded by people who don’t know or trust me. I may never go home. I am so lost, so lonely.”