“It’s for Dahlia,” she explained. “I thought she might like a book to pass the time.”
“Of course. How thoughtful of you. She’ll like that book,” James said approvingly, about to hand the volume to Matty when a voice interrupted him.
“It was my personal recommendation.”
James looked past Matty, and she turned, looking in the same direction. “MacTavish!” James cried affectionately, seeing the man leaning leisurely against the doorframe. They covered the ground between them quickly to shake hands and hug in the usual manner of male friends – with numerous slaps on the back. “It’s good to see you! I’ve been here a week – what kept you so long?”
“Payback for you staying away for more than five years, lad!”
“Aye, well,” James pointed upwards. “Wait till you meet the reason for whom I had good cause to stay in England. The most beautiful reason in the world.”
Matty was pleased to hear him refer to Dahlia with such pride. Despite his heroic offer of marriage to protect Dahlia’s reputation, she had wondered whether he would begin to regret such a chivalrous gesture when the reality of his situation sank in.
“And when shall I meet the lovely Mrs. Kent?”
“That pleasure may have to be postponed for several weeks yet,” James said without giving further explanation. He turned and indicated to Matty. “You’ve met our Matty, then?”
MacTavish cocked his head, staring at Matty as he answered his friend. “Aye. The opportunity to be introduced fortuitously landed in my lap, so to speak.”
“Don’t let her twinkling eyes give you a false sense of serenity, MacTavish. She’s as good a storyteller as you. Between her tales and my wife’s musical genius, the MacFarlain clan might just revoke your library rights.”
Seeing Matty’s confused look, James explained. “MacTavish has been the official castle bard for years. Makes his living telling stories and singing. Goes to the far corners of the world to bring back new tales and tunes. He wrote this,” James said, handing Matty the book she had dropped. “What, ten – twelve years ago? I remember you giving us a copy when we visited that year. It had just been printed.”
Matty felt embarrassment wash over her anew. When he had claimed to be a book lover, she thought him perhaps a rather useless gentleman who merely travelled around buying books. Here she had been telling him about her own renown with the Talbots. She was just an amateur touting her skills to a professional – and even commenting on his ego. What a dolt! She looked at the book more closely. T. MacTavish was imprinted in small gold letters at the bottom of the cover.
“I’ll be sure to tell Miss Dahlia,” she mumbled, eager to be away from the brown eyes she felt boring into her. She bobbed a curtsy and hurried up the stairs before she could be detained.
She went straight to Dahlia’s room, waiting only a split-second before entering after knocking.
Chapter 66
When Matty stormed into Dahlia’s room, she was so upset at herself that she barely looked at her surroundings. A flash of bed linens, however, caught her attention. The figure in the bed had the covers pulled up to her nose.
“Miss Dahlia?”
“Oh, it’s you, Matty,” Dahlia said, obviously relieved. She lowered the covers to where they had been in her lap before whipping them up to her face.
“Who were you afraid I was?”
“James.”
“Why?”
Dahlia cast her eyes away. “I didn’t want him to see me.”
It took only a moment for Matty to put the pieces together. “You cajoled Mrs. Kent into giving you the mirror yesterday, didn’t you?”
She nodded guiltily.
“He saw you when it was a lot worse. What you saw yesterday was ten times better than right after the…accident.” Matty cursed in her mind. That MacTavish man had flustered her to the point that she almost said ‘attack.’ Luckily, Dahlia seemed to be thinking about what she had looked like two weeks ago instead of Matty’s hesitation.
“Yes. I hadn’t thought about that. Well, I wasn’t conscious then so I couldn’t feel self-conscious, could I?” she said defensively.
“What did you think, that James would not love you because you looked a little worse for wear?” Dahlia didn’t answer, but Matty could see that was exactly what she was thinking. Matty laughed, and Dahlia looked offended.
“No, no! I’m not laughing at you. I was thinking of something my Da used to say to my brothers. That every woman looked like a goddess when they went to bed at night. The real trick was to find a woman they still loved when they woke up the next morning and saw her in the harsh light of day.”
At this, Dahlia cracked a smile. It vanished just as quickly. “I don’t remember waking up with James,” she confessed. “Nor going to bed with him. Did I, well, did I seemed pleased the day after my wedding night?”
“Yes,” she said with forced confidence, hoping it gave the lie more credence as the truth. “You were just like Maripaz after she and Steven were married. Remember? All blushes and smiles.”
“Yes. She seemed very happy,” recalled Dahlia. “But I didn’t know then what all the blushing was for, and now that I should know, I can’t remember!”
Matty felt guilty for her part in making Dahlia believe she couldn’t remember the most memorable night of a young woman’s life.
“James will expect me to…know things. Without being able to remember, it’s like I never learned them! For me, it’s like was never married.”
“But you were married. I was there, your family was there with Don Alvaro and Doña Isabel…and James didn’t expect you to know anything then. He knows full well you can’t remember and he won’t have any such expectation of you now.” She harrumphed. “You needn’t worry about any of this now. You’ve miles to go yet on your journey back to full health. When you are ready, James will lead the way.”
Dahlia didn’t look convinced. “Hmmm. Do you suppose he’ll lead the way from the couch?”
Matty couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve only just started to spend most days awake and lucid and you sure have found a lot of things to be worried about!”
“It’s just that, well, I still can’t hear any music. None at all. So I don’t know whether James is truly happy or not. I used to be able to tell when someone wasn’t as happy as they tried to let on because their music was just a bit different. Now everyone is sort of…blank to me. James’ mother had no music. I thought her music would be very nice, but I heard not one note. You have no idea how strange that is. Remember our dinners back in Cirencester – with everyone laughing and talking at once? Now imagine the same scene with no voices, no laughter – just seeing everyone’s mouths moving but no sound coming out; seeing Tom holding his sides at one of Michael’s quips, but hearing no laughter. That is what it’s like for me.”
Matty didn’t know what to say. The example Dahlia gave was disquieting for she could not imagine a world suddenly without sound. For Dahlia, who had heard music just about all the time in her head since she was a baby, what she was experiencing must be frightening indeed.
“Well, if you can’t rely on your music to help you know what people’s moods are, you’ll just have to talk to them. And you can’t talk to James with the linens over your head or by pretending to be asleep every time he is in the room.”
Dahlia sighed deeply. She was avoiding the one person who, before the accident, she had wished she could have the opportunity to talk to more; with whom she had wished she could correspond directly, instead of through Miss McElroy. Now, she was married to him and she was afraid to talk to him. She wasn’t afraid of much in life, and even less of talking to anyone. So much seemed to have changed since her accident.
“Don’t fret, Miss Dahlia. Everything will come out right in the end. Here,” she said, holding out the book she still clutched. “I brought you a book. James says it is quite good, and the author himself gave it to me.”
Dahlia took the book and looked at t
he name of the author. “T. MacTavish? Who’s that?”
“Apparently a friend of the family who lives nearby. James called him the ‘castle’s bard.’ He travels around collecting books for the MacFarlains, and ideas for his own stories. A musician, too, apparently.”
“What’s the ‘T’ stand for?”
“Trevor.”
“He sounds very interesting. What’s he like?”
Humph. “Interesting is right.”
“You like him,” Dahlia stated.
Matty looked up at her sharply. “I most certainly do not! He’s… sneaky.”
“But handsome,” Dahlia guessed.
Matty was going to negate this, but could not. “Yes,” she laughed. “Very.”
“You like him,” Dahlia said again, smiling.
Matty squinted at the figure who looked so diminutive in the large bed. “You don’t fool me. Music or no – your intuition is working just fine!”
-----
Since they had arrived, James had insisted that Matty eat with the family rather than the servants. She had agreed when James made the argument that she was as much Dahlia’s friend and companion as she was her dressing maid, and Dahlia would need a friend near her when she was well enough to join the large, boisterous MacFarlain clan. She knew that this was one more thing that separated her from the servants, but she was glad to do it if it would help Dahlia – until tonight.
Tonight, Trevor MacTavish stayed for dinner. Thinking they had much in common with their mutual love of storytelling, James had insisted that Matty sit next to him, where she suffered the most uncomfortable meal of her life. MacTavish was charming and witty and eloquent, and it was apparent that everyone at the castle adored him from the children to the chief himself. He regaled them all with his latest journey and told them news from Edinburgh. Matty said as little as possible, assured that her words would come out as discombobulated as her thoughts. When MacTavish addressed her directly, he seemed to do so just after she put a bite of food in her mouth. This only made her angry as he seemed to do it purposefully. By the time she swallowed, the conversation had moved on without her.
At the same time, she had to agree that he certainly could spin a tale and effortlessly captivate his audience – including her. So she spent the evening alternating between irritation and fascination. He spoke like a scholar, but looked like a crofter. His clothes were simple; clean, but slightly rumpled. He had long hair with strands that escaped the leather thong that held it in a ponytail, giving him a slightly wild look. Seated next to him as she was, she could detect the smell of pine needles and leather – scents that distracted her in a disturbingly pleasant way.
After a particularly lengthy dinner given the excited conversation with their guest, the MacFarlains insisted on having Trevor play for them. He obliged with a flute that made the most hauntingly beautiful tones Matty had ever heard. By the time she excused herself to check on Dahlia, she was exhausted by the emotions of the evening – and completely smitten with the strange storyteller.
She conveyed everything about the dinner and entertainment to Dahlia as she helped her get settled in for the night. When she reached for the medicine, however, Dahlia stopped her. “I’ll take it after James returns, she said. Matty nodded both her assent and approval that she was going to stop hiding from James.
It was at least an hour before he came up, and Dahlia had nearly dozed off when she heard the door latch click. James seemed surprised to find her awake, but he smiled immediately when he found her waiting up for him. “Dahlia!”
“Good evening,” she started as he came to the bedside and sat down gently.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he began, picking up her hand and kissing it. “How are you?”
“A little better every day, thank you. And you? How are you adjusting to life away from London?”
“London seems like a thousand years ago. Coming back here is a bit strange – as if everything is the same and new at the same time. A good friend of the family came for dinner tonight: Trevor MacTavish.”
“Yes, Matty was telling me about him.”
“I thought they’d get on better than they did, both being grand storytellers. She barely said two words to him, though, throughout dinner.”
“Oh, she liked him well enough. He’s all she talked about tonight.”
“Really?” James asked, surprised.
Dahlia gave a short laugh. “You men really are oblivious to anything outside your own interests, aren’t you.”
“You mean she likes him?”
“Is there a reason she should not? She did not think he was married or otherwise engaged. She is still a bit confused about whether he is a gentleman or a very educated farmer.”
“Huh,” grunted James, thinking about the pair. “No,” he said, coming out of his reverie. “There is nothing to prevent them from an attachment. MacTavish is by way of a gentleman farmer. He is the son of a farmer who worked part of a large estate owned by a widower with no children. The man was a bit of a drinker, you see, and one day in a drunken state he rammed his boat into the dock where young MacTavish was fishing with his father. The dock collapsed, trapping him amidst the boards. He nearly drowned, and MacTavish lost all good use of his leg. The old man felt terrible about that. When he died several years later, he left his land to MacTavish, presumably as recompense for the accident. With the income from the land, MacTavish took advantage of his situation to get an education and focus on what he loved – books and music.”
“That’s a grand story in itself!”
“Yes,” smiled James. “I suppose it is.” Coming back to the issue at hand, however, he said, “Mind you, MacTavish is a fair bit older than our Matty. He must be ten years her senior.”
“And you are five years older than me.”
“Yes,” James said, looking into her eyes.
“And that was no impediment, was it?”
“No,” he said kissing her hand again. “None at all.”
Dahlia was suddenly conscious of his nearness, and remembered her bruised and swollen face. She turned her head and put a hand to her cheek. Sensing her discomfort, James stood and turned towards the armoire, pulling off his cravat.
“MacTavish has a way of coming and staying for days – sometimes a week or more. Perhaps if you are feeling up to it, we can get you downstairs to meet him. He’d love to talk music with you.” Glancing at the bed, James saw that this, too, made Dahlia look away. It had been the wrong thing to say. Matty had told him that Dahlia still couldn’t hear the music in her mind. He hadn’t thought that would affect her ability to play or sing, but perhaps it would.
“I don’t think I’m ready to be presented,” was all she said, her hand touching her bruised cheek.
“Of course,” he said quietly. “Whenever you are ready.”
“You know the music has vanished. I can’t hear it since the accident.”
“Aye. Matty told me.”
“What if it never comes back? What if I can’t sing on key, or play properly because I can’t hear it in my head?” Dahlia had not thought about these aspects of her music before James mentioned playing with MacTavish. The thought of the joy of singing and playing being taking away as well made her panic.
“I think not,” James tried to reassure her. “You have studied music and played your whole life. Surely that level of experience is part of you now forever.” Dahlia’s brow was still furrowed, and he wondered whether she had even heard him. He went and sat down next to her again. “Dahlia.” She looked him in the eye. “Think of your favorite piece of music. Can you see the notes?”
After a brief pause, she said, “Yes. Yes, I remember the notes and can see them in order. I just can’t hear them like I used to.”
“There. No doubt you’ll still be able to play them properly.” He reached up and caressed her earlobe. “You’ll just have to use your physical ears, not your mental ears, to know they are on key.”
Dahlia smiled, the
n the furrow between her brows returned. “You aren’t too disappointed that I have lost this gift, are you?”
This surprised James. “Why on earth would I be disappointed?”
“Well, it was so much a part of who I am – was.”
“A talent is not the sum of a person, Dahlia, any more than a single limb constitutes the whole body. A talent, like a limb, may be removed without altering the heart, the soul, the mind – indeed, the essence of an individual.”
“But that is what attracted you to me in the first place, wasn’t it? Would you have ever noticed me otherwise?”
“With those eyes of yours? Absolutely.”
Dahlia wasn’t convinced, so he continued. “Dahlia, people are attracted to one another for many reasons. Sometimes it is the same trait that both attracts a person to another and the reasons they fall out of love with that person. Many times the first attraction is physical. Do you think that is what keeps people in love? Physical attributes change over time – people get older, fatter, shorter, balder – and yet their love often grows deeper because of the experiences they share, because of all the aspects of the other person they couldn’t appreciate as much when all they saw was the outer beauty.”
Dahlia knew he was right, and his attitudes were a credit to him. Their love, however, was not tested or strengthened by time. They had scarcely married when she’d had her accident. She couldn’t even remember their wedding or wedding night, and they had not even reached their first anniversary.
James saw she was trying to believe him, to work out the logic of his words without feeling the conviction of them in her heart. He wanted to take her in his arms, let her feel protected and assured of his love, but he did not dare for fear of hurting her or worse – of provoking a memory from the attack. He had only his words and verbal arguments to convince her, so he pressed on.
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