Read Devil of the Highlands Online
Authors: Lynsay Sands
The request seemed to startle him, and he glanced down at her sharply. "Why?"
Evelinde hesitated, then admitted, "I just thought perhaps if I saw the spot, I would get a better idea of what might have happened. No one seems to be sure if 'twas an accident, or nae, and that just adds to the confusion."
Cullen was silent for so long, it seemed obvious he was going to ignore the request. Evelinde sighed to herself and settled back against him, resigned to not having her request fulfilled. It was another twenty minutes before she realized that rather than approach the front of the castle, they were riding toward the back of it and the cliffs there.
Sitting up before him, she peered curiously around as he drew his mount to a halt on a windswept cliff behind the curtain wall at the back of the castle.
It was a narrow spot, Evelinde noted, as Cullen dismounted and lifted her down. The area that ran along between the high stone wall and the edge was only about ten feet wide, but ran on for quite some way.
Cullen caught her arm as she moved to peer over the edge, holding her back as if he feared she might tumble to her death. Evelinde was glad he did when she looked over and saw how steep it was and how far it was to the ground below. It was dizzying. The fact that a strong wind was swirling around her, rushing up the cliff wall to catch at her skirts, tugging at her gown as if to pull her over the edge did not make her feel any better.
"He had his horse with him?" Evelinde asked, easing back from the edge and trying to eradicate the image that had entered her mind of an older version of Cullen lying broken and battered on the stones below.
"Aye."
"Do they think he dismounted and somehow fell over the edge? Or that his horse was spooked and he was thrown from the saddle?" she asked with a frown.
Cullen shook his head. "No one kens, or at least no one I have been able to find yet. If there truly was a witness, he may be able to tell us."
"And if 'twas murder, his murderer could tell us," Evelinde said quietly.
Cullen nodded.
Sighing, Evelinde turned away. Coming here had not really helped her envision how the "accident" might have happened. There was nothing here but some sparse grass and a pile of stones; nowhere for an animal—or a man—to have leapt out from to startle Liam's mount and send him rearing. More to the point, she could see no reason for the laird to have been here in the first place.
Her curious gaze slid to the pile of stones. She'd thought it just a rocky outcropping, but suddenly noted 'twas not a natural formation. Evelinde moved toward it. "What is—?"
The question died on her lips as she suddenly thought that it might be a cairn for his father. Or his first wife.
" 'Tis Jenny. Biddy's sister," he explained.
Evelinde hesitated, then asked, "You mean she is actually buried under those stones?"
Cullen nodded.
"Why?" Evelinde stared at him with dismay.
" 'Tis where Biddy wished it," he answered simply, and when she turned a confused face his way, explained,
"She killed herself and could not be buried in hallowed ground. But she liked this spot and spent a good deal of time here, so Biddy decided this should be her final resting place."
"She killed herself?" Evelinde turned her gaze back to the stone grave. "Why?"
Culled frowned. "I was only fourteen at the time, but I've since learned she was supposed to marry the Campbell."
"The Campbell?"
"Aye. He's been dead these last five years, but he was an evil bastard, cruel and heartless. They said she killed herself rather than marry him."
Evelinde nodded, but her mind was not really on the Campbell. "You were fourteen when she died? That was the year your uncle died, too, was it not?"
"Aye. She died just two weeks ere the hunting accident."
Evelinde turned to peer at the spot where the cliff fell away. It was a barren spot, lonely and cold. "Did she really like this spot?"
"Aye. She used to come here often the first time she visited."
"The time she killed herself was not the first time she was here?"
"Nay. She had been here once before that, about two months earlier," Cullen said. "She was much younger than Biddy, and that was the first time she came. She was supposed to stay for a month, but only remained three weeks. Tralin was most disappointed. He thought her the prettiest lass he'd ever seen," he confided.
Evelinde smiled at the confidence, pleased that he was actually talking to her. Eager to keep him talking, she asked, "And did you?"
"She was pretty enough," Cullen allowed with a shrug, "but I was not as enamored as he."
Evelinde was secretly pleased at these words, but simply said, "So she returned two weeks before your uncle died?"
"Aye. She arrived unexpectedly and asked to speak to Uncle Darach."
"Why your uncle?" Evelinde asked with surprise. "Why not Biddy?"
"Darach was laird," Cullen said with a shrug. "If anyone were to offer her sanctuary, he would have to be the one. He took her for a ride on his horse so she could have her say, but must have refused her sanctuary, because she was sobbing when she returned and ran up to her room and would not come out. Biddy found her the next morning. She'd hanged herself in the solar."
Evelinde's eyebrows rose. That explained why the solar was empty. She supposed Biddy had emptied the room and never set foot in it again. Every time she entered, she would have been reminded of her last sight of her younger sister.
"Come." Cullen caught her arm and urged her back to his mount.
As pleased as she was that he was finally speaking to her, Evelinde remained silent as he set her on the saddle and joined her. Her mind was taken up with thoughts of what she'd learned. Biddy's sister had died two weeks before Cullen's uncle, and had been buried in the very spot where Cullen's father and first wife had later died. It was a strange coincidence… if it was a coincidence at all.
"Thank you," Evelinde murmured, as Mildrede refilled her cup of honey mead. Her gaze then slid around the great hall. Cullen had left her sleeping that morning, and everyone had broken their fast ere she'd come below.
Now there was just herself, Rory, and Gillie, though the two men were seated farther along the table, quietly talking to each other. They were guarding her as usual.
"You seem very distracted this morning," Mildrede commented as she settled herself at the table beside Evelinde. "In fact, you have been rather quiet since returning from Comyn's yesterday. Did something happen while you were there? Did it not go well?"
"Nay. I had a lovely time," Evelinde assured her, and it was true. However, she
had
been distracted since returning to Donnachaidh. Her mind had been worrying over the problem of how to approach Biddy on the subject of her sister, Jenny. Evelinde was sure it couldn't be coincidence that Jenny had died two weeks ere Darach and that Cullen's father and first wife had later died at the spot where the young woman had been laid to rest.There must be some connection. She simply wasn't sure what it could be and wished to cause Biddy as little upset as possible while trying to find out.
"Well," Mildrede said, when Evelinde fell silent. "Unless you have ruined another gown you have not told me about, I have finished the mending. Would you like me to start on the solar today? You mentioned that you would like to clean it out and perhaps start using it again," Mildrede reminded her.
Evelinde nodded with a frown. She had considered doing that, but that was before she'd learned about Jenny killing herself in the room. The fact didn't bother her, but she didn't wish to upset Biddy.
"It could be a lovely room, a nice spot for you and Cullen to get away from the crowded great hall of a night.
Perhaps enjoy a quiet meal together without having to retire to your room."
"Aye," Evelinde murmured, then sighed, and said, "However, I am not sure Biddy would be pleased; 'tis sure to bring back bad memories for her."
"Bad memories?"
Evelinde remained silent as her mind turned the situation over. An idea had occurred to her. Mildrede and Biddy had spent a lot of time talking of late. The two women often sat together by the fire after the sup, chatting about this and that while mending, or embroidering, or some other task. It wasn't unusual for a lady and her maid to be friends, though it was somewhat unusual for them to be friends with another's maid. On the other hand, the two women were around the same age, and Evelinde had thought nothing of it, but now asked,
"Mildrede, has Biddy ever mentioned her sister to you?"
The maid peered at her blankly. "Her sister?"
"Jenny," Evelinde explained.
"Nay. I had no idea she had a sister."
Evelinde noted the hurt on the maid's face, and said quietly, "Jenny killed herself some years ago, Mildrede.
No doubt 'tis painful for Biddy to discuss."
"Oh," Mildrede said, some of the hurt slipping away to be replaced with sympathy, and she asked, "Why would cleaning up and arranging the solar bring back bad memories?"
"Jenny hanged herself in the solar a couple of weeks before Biddy's husband, Darach, died," Evelinde murmured.
Mildrede's eyes widened incredulously, then a soft breath slid from her lips before she breathed, "Poor Lady Elizabeth. She has had grievous times."
"Aye," Evelinde agreed, and popped into her mouth the last bit of bread and cheese she'd chosen to break her fast. After chewing and swallowing, she murmured, "I suppose we could ask her if 'twould be all right. She may not wish to use the solar herself but might not mind our using it."
Mildrede hesitated briefly, but then nodded. "I am sure she would not mind."
Evelinde drank the last of her mead, nodded, and stood. The moment she did, Gillie and Rory got to their feet as well. Irritation flickered through her when they did, but she forced a smile and waved them back to their seats. "There is no need to trouble yourself, gentlemen. I am merely going above stairs to take a look at the solar to see what needs doing. You can see the landing and the solar door from here."
The two men hesitated, exchanged glances, then settled back into their seats, and Evelinde immediately turned and headed for the stairs, aware that Mildrede was on her heels.
The stairs and upper hall were much more pleasant to manage since the torches had been added. The hall was just a hall, long and empty, with doors coming off it, but at least they could see where they were going and not fear tripping over something they could not see.
Evelinde grimaced at the very idea. She'd had quite enough spills and falls of late and would happily avoid another for a while. If she could manage it, she thought as she led the way to the closed door of the solar.
Despite having looked into the room before, Evelinde still found herself a little surprised at the wave of stink that met them when she opened the door. A musty, moldy smell rolled out, making both women wrinkle their noses with disgust. She supposed that was why she'd done little more than stick her torch in to see the general size and shape of the room at the time before beating a hasty retreat. Now, she didn't have that luxury. If they were to use the room, they would have to clean and air it.
"Bring one of the torches from the hall, please, Mildrede," Evelinde ordered, and moved a few cautious steps into the room, waving one hand before her as she went in an effort to brush away the cobwebs in her path. She recalled from her first look into the room that there were shutters on the windows. The sooner she had them open, the sooner she would not only be able to see what she was doing, but the fresh air should help dissipate some of the odor.
"Here we are."
Evelinde turned to her maid with relief as she reappeared in the doorway, torch in hand, sending shadows dancing across the room. Taking the torch from her, Evelinde held it out before her, waving it back and forth to sweep more cobwebs as she made her way to the nearest set of shutters. They were a bit shaky after seventeen years, but opening them sent light splashing into the room. However, it also allowed a breeze in to stir the dust and cobwebs, causing a cloud of the fine powders to rise and swirl in the room.
Mildrede was standing at a second set of shutters, opening those. Evelinde would have warned her not to, for it would only cause more of a stir, but before she could, the dust in the air got into her nose and mouth, and she found herself sneezing, then bending over under a coughing fit.
Evelinde turned to the window she'd opened and inhaled the fresh air until the need to cough had passed. She straightened and turned cautiously to face the room, her gaze sliding over the interior.
Truly, she almost wished she'd not opened the shutters. The room hadn't looked nearly as bad by torchlight as it did under the harsh glare of the sunlight pouring through the open shutters.
It was obvious the chamber had not been used during the seventeen years since Jenny had died. Every minute of that time showed in the room, in the dust layering every surface, the gossamer cobwebs billowing in the breeze, and the rushes that were half-rotted away and half-petrified with the passage of time. The room also had an unpleasant, musty odor that hit you like a wave on entering.
"There is a lot of work to be done," Mildrede murmured.
Something about the tone of her voice made Evelinde glance at the maid, and her eyebrows rose as she saw that her gaze was lifted toward the high ceiling, no doubt searching for where Jenny might have hanged herself.
Evelinde had wondered that herself, but this was the first time she'd entered the room since learning of the young woman's death. Her own gaze slid over the room now with new eyes, but then, deciding she really didn't want to know and have that image in her mind, she turned her attention away from the ceiling and toward the rushes. They would have to go. Removing them would improve the smell in the room greatly. However, it would mean walking through countless cobwebs to do so did they not remove those first.
"I shall go fetch a besom and such," Mildrede decided.
Evelinde watched her go and turned her gaze over the room again. It was definitely going to be an effort to clean up, but worth it… she hoped.
Wrinkling her nose at the negative direction to her thoughts, Evelinde turned and peered out into the bailey below, enjoying the fresh air leaning out the window allowed her. Truly the smell in here was most unpleasant, and Evelinde suspected she would find that even more mice than was usual had taken up residence in the empty room. There would doubtless be a nest or two, and likely even corpses of the little rodents in among the rushes.
Evelinde was trying not to consider that unpleasant possibility when a small cough made her straighten and glance around.
"Aunt Biddy," Evelinde said, guilt pouring over her in a wave as she spotted the woman in the doorway.
"Yer going to use the solar," Cullen's aunt said quietly, her gaze seeming to fix on Evelinde to avoid looking at the room itself.
"I was going to talk to you first, but, aye," she admitted uncomfortably. "If 'twould not be of distress to you, I thought it might be pleasant."
"Of course ye should," Biddy muttered, her gaze dropping to the rushes, then down to her own skirt. " 'Tis a waste not to use it."
Evelinde hesitated, then admitted, "On the way back from Comyn yestereve, Cullen took me to the cliff where Lord Liam and little Maggie died."
Biddy's face froze briefly, but then she managed a neutral expression. "Oh?"
"Aye," Evelinde hesitated, then pushed ahead. "Cullen told me about Jenny. I am sorry, Aunt Biddy."
Biddy nodded but remained silent.
Evelinde blew out a short breath, and continued on determinedly, "He said she killed herself rather than marry the Campbell?"
Biddy remained silent, her fingers beginning to clench and unclench on the cloth of her skirt.
"I am sorry, I know this must distress you," Evelinde said quietly, finding the conversation rather difficult herself. She liked Biddy and didn't wish to pain her, but… "You do not think your sister's death had anything to do with your husband's death. Do you?"
Biddy suddenly slammed one hand into the doorframe beside her with enough violence to make Evelinde jump a little nervously and watch her wide-eyed.
"Spider," Biddy muttered for explanation, brushing off her hand.
Evelinde nodded and almost gave up questioning her, but then blurted, "I was just wondering if there might be a connection."
That caused the woman to raise her head. Eyes sharp and expression tight, she stared at her.
Evelinde bit her lip under that hard stare, and said apologetically, "It just seems odd that she is somehow connected to each death. She died here two weeks before your husband's death, then Cullen's father and first wife both died on the cliffs where she was laid to rest. Is it possible someone blamed Darach for her death because he would not offer her sanctuary from marrying the Campbell?" She asked.
"Sanctuary?" Biddy asked with surprise.
Evelinde frowned. "Aye. Is that not why she wished to speak with Darach when she returned? "
"Lass," Biddy began grimly, then paused abruptly her head jerking around toward the door as Tavis suddenly appeared behind her. The two peered at each other for a moment. Evelinde couldn't see Biddy's face, but Tavis's expression was neutral, and Biddy turned back. "Yer more than welcome to open up this room. 'Tis well past time 'twas done, but I'll no likely be using it much meself."
Biddy's gaze shifted to the corner where a wooden chandelier hung by a chain from the ceiling. It was very simple, two pieces of wood crossing each other with prickets at each end of each piece of wood so that four candles could be fixed on them. Evelinde peered at the chandelier, wondering if it was what Jenny had hanged herself from, then decided it most likely was. She could see no other choices within the room.
Her gaze dropped back to Biddy, only to find that the woman had slipped away while Evelinde was examining the chandelier, and Tavis had stepped back into the hall and was staring after her. A troubled expression on his face, he glanced back to Evelinde.
"Doona mind her," Tavis said as he stepped back into the doorway. "She was very fond of Jenny."
Evelinde nodded solemnly, finding herself torn between guilt at obviously upsetting the woman, and frustration that she hadn't learned anything from it.
"We came to tell ye that Cullen called Rory and Gillie away and set us to watch ye," he announced, when she remained silent, caught up in her thoughts.
"We?" Evelinde asked, glancing up curiously.
"Fergus and I," Tavis explained. "He came above stairs with me to find you, but I think he's hied himself off to the kitchens to find something to eat."
Evelinde smiled faintly, and said with amusement, " 'Tis not food that draws him to the kitchens all the time."
"Nay. But food is all he will get," Tavis said.
Evelinde tilted her head, eyeing him curiously. It seemed obvious he, too, suspected Fergus had feelings for Biddy.
"Are his feelings so hopeless then?" she asked curiously.
Tavis shrugged and moved forward, his gaze shifting curiously around the filthy room. "Me mother loved me father dearly. Forgave him all his sins, and has shown no interest in any other man since his death. In truth, she has shown little interest in anything but cooking. His death changed her."