Arsenic and Old Armor (15 page)

“
He is brave,” she
whispered, recalling more clearly the terror she had been at that
age.

“
Naturally, we’ll be taking
the same bedchamber,” he added.

“
The same one that was
burned?”

“
They fixed the place up
long ago,” Iain said.

Marion looped her arm into her husband's.
She knew she would be much happier inside the walls of that
bedchamber this time around. Seeing Alan at top of the hill
reminded her why they’d walked down here to start with.

“
You’ve managed to distract
me again. We’ve talked of everything else, but you have yet to
answer my questions. Why are we stopping here?”

Iain took both her hands and faced her.
Behind him, she could see the brown hills rising sharply beyond the
loch, and lake water was glistening in the afternoon sun.

“
The men who attacked us
intended to shoot that arrow at you.” Iain’s face was in shadow. “I
was able to get two of them to talk afterward. It appears they were
hired by your cousin.”

“
Jack?”

He nodded. “Jack Fitzwilliam.”

Marion felt as if someone had stabbed her in
the back. Her breath and her voice struggled to the surface. “What
do you mean?”

“
They were hired to stop
you from returning to the Borders.”

“
And how were they going to
do that?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“
They were instructed to
kill you,” he said solemnly.

It hurt. It really hurt to learn that
someone whom she had never wronged, someone who was her own kin,
wanted her dead. Marion struggled to stay calm. “Because of your
courage, Iain, they didn’t succeed.”

“
Your
courage was what turned the tide. Granted, it was good timing
that Brother Luke and the men were not far off, but you gave those
fools a lesson about how to treat a woman.” He brushed away a tear
that Marion didn’t know she’d shed. He leaned down and pressed a
kiss where the tear had been.

“
What happens next?” she
asked brokenly.

“
I’ll find Jack Fitzwilliam
when we get back at the Borders. He’ll be punished for his
treacherous scheming.”

“
And what do we do for
right now?”

“
I am not going to endanger
you any longer. We are safe enough here. The innkeeper will lend a
hand if we’re attacked again. On the other hand, Jack could have
more men out looking for us between here and Fleet Tower, so we’ll
wait here until Brother Luke and the men traveling with him reach
Blackthorn Hall. They’ll send back a larger group to escort us
home.”

“
Aren’t you worried about
your uncle’s safety?”

Iain shook his head. “You probably don’t
remember much about your cousin, but for all his peculiarities and
a bloody streak of violence, he’d never attack Luke.”

“
Why?”

“
Jack Fitzwilliam
apparently sees himself as devotedly religious. That is the only
reason I think he never sent a group to harm you on the Isle of
Skye.”

“
Because I was staying in a
priory convent?”

“
That’s right. For the same
reason, I’m certain he wouldn’t harm Brother Luke,
either.”

Marion tried to remember the stories she’d
heard about Jack’s mother. They were always spoken in whispers. One
story claimed that the woman was a Gypsy, passing through the
McCall land. Sir William had fallen in love for the only time in
his life. But there was another tale about a lass on her way to a
convent, having already been disowned by her Border lord father for
something. And another about her being a scullery maid in the
kitchens at Fleet Tower. Marion couldn’t exactly remember the
stories, but they all had the same air of romance to them. There
was nothing Marion knew for sure about Jack’s mother.

“
So Jack Fitzwilliam
intends to stop our marriage?” Marion asked.

“
I think that’s his plan.
The scheming dog believes he’s the rightful heir to the McCall
lands.”

“
But we’re already
married,” she reminded him. “Perhaps if he knows, he’ll give
up.”

“
I don’t know what he’ll do
once he hears that news,” Iain said. “He is not in his right mind.
He might give up and disappear, or he might try to seize Fleet
Tower. If he has it, we’d need to take it back by force, and he
probably figures that the McCall clan will rally behind him against
me.”

Marion thought of how defenseless her aunts
and uncle were at Fleet Tower with no one protecting them. But they
were no threat to Jack. So, she reasoned, he wouldn’t hurt
them.

Hopefully.

“
I want Jack to know we’re
married,” Iain continued. “So I told Brother Luke to spread the
word once he reaches the Borders. He will make sure to get the news
out.”

Marion looked up toward the inn. “I'd like
to speak to Brother Luke before he leaves. I want to make sure that
he relays the news of our marriage gently to my aunts. I don’t want
to hurt their feelings or have them feel excluded from my life.
They are very sensitive and so conscious of every slight. I am like
a daughter to them.”

“
They
were
sensitive and conscious,” Iain
said. “Now they are two forgetful old ladies who don’t remember a
thing from one moment to the next.”

“
You are being
condescending again.”

He put both hands up in self-defense. “I’m
not. I’m only speaking the truth and trying to prepare you for what
you’ll have to face soon. Your family has aged, my love.”

Marion let out a sigh. There was no point in
arguing with him. She had changed, so it was only natural for the
same thing to happen to her family. She wished she were going to
Fleet Tower now…today. She wanted to get past this initial meeting.
She wanted to be home. But none of that was possible. She turned to
Iain.

“
Do you think Brother Luke
will be ready to meet with us now?”

He motioned up the hill with his head.
Marion looked. Brother Luke and a group of Armstrong men were
standing at the top.

“
I believe he’s
ready.”

Two men were missing, but after just half an
hour with the elderly McCall sisters, Sir George Harington,
adjutant to the Marquis of Dorset in the Borders, was thinking only
of self-preservation. The two women were nearly smothering him with
their hospitality, and there was certainly no point in questioning
these gentle people any further about the missing men.

Sir Francis Hastings and Sir William Eden,
two members of the marquis’s staff, had disappeared four days ago
en route to Blackthorn Hall for the Armstrong and McCall wedding.
The worst of it was that Hastings was a cousin of Dorset’s wife.
When Sir George had arrived from York yesterday, he’d been assured
that search parties had been scouring the countryside every day.
They’d found the men’s horses grazing the land in the hills a half
hour north of Fleet Tower two days ago, but there had been no sign
of the two men.

This area in the Borders was notorious for
its lawlessness. That was the reason why King Henry had directed
the marquis to send trusted members of his staff to witness the
wedding. This marriage between the two clans promised a chance to
add stability to the region. In planning for this, neither Dorset
nor Sir George had ever expected that their own men would fall
victim to any roguery. The adjutant still held fast to the hope
that the two men were perhaps resting at some manor house, since
there was still a week until the wedding. The problem of the horses
didn’t help to buoy those hopes, though.

“
Would you care for another
of these pastries, Sir George?” Lady Judith offered, holding the
platter before him. “They were made fresh this morning.”

This was his third serving, but the food was
far too tempting. George Harington smiled up into the round and
gentle face of his host. “If you don’t mind, I might just help
myself to one last serving.”

“
Mind? I insist.” The lady
placed not one but two pieces on his plate and carried one to his
attendant and the Armstrong man, who were standing by the great
fireplace.

How peculiar it was, he thought, that there
was no sign of servants here. He knew that the estate attached to
the late earl’s castle was fairly extensive. And yet these sweet
old women appeared to be fending for themselves. No servants. No
kitchen help. No steward, it appeared, to run the farms. Not even a
bloody gatekeeper. No one. Very odd.

“
We insist,” Lady Margaret,
the older sister, repeated as she poured more warm cider for Sir
George.

“
Are you certain the three
men waiting in the courtyard wouldn’t care for something?” Lady
Judith asked.

“
I’m certain,” he replied
as he took a bite of the pastry. It was delicate and superior to
anything he’d tasted in the months since he’d left the south of
England. The spiced cider was also sweet and left a delicious
sensation in his mouth.

“
So is it only the two of
you who reside at Fleet Tower?” he asked, though he already knew
the answer. Lady Elizabeth Armstrong had warned him about Sir
William, the Earl of Fleet’s peculiar but harmless
brother.

“
Only us…and our brother,”
Lady Judith replied, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“
Sir William,” Lady
Margaret added, nodding cheerfully.

“
Our brother,” Judith
clarified again.

“
Am I going to have the
pleasure of meeting the gentleman today?” George asked.

“
We’re dreadfully sorry,
sir, but our brother is not accepting visitors,” Lady Margaret
responded, shaking her head solemnly.

“
No visitors today,” the
younger sister repeated.

Harington’s men had been hearing some
entertaining stories about the man and his fascination with the
legendary Scottish blackguard William Wallace. He would have liked
to meet this creature that everyone talked so much of. “Perhaps if
I made an appointment and returned another day. Would that be any
better?”

“
Oh, no!” Margaret poured
another drop of cider into his cup, even though it was already
full.

“
Sir William doesn’t like
to plan that far ahead,” Judith explained.

“
Our brother’s schedule is
quite unpredictable,” the older sister added.

“
Unpredictable,” Judith
repeated.

“
Perhaps I shall meet him
during the wedding festivities, then,” he said politely, not
intending to fluster these gentle ladies.

Judith shook her head, “I should doubt it,
Sir George.”

“
No, indeed,” Margaret
added. “Our brother doesn’t like crowds.”

“
No crowds.”

Their resistance was intriguing. Sir
George’s curiosity with regard to Sir William McCall was definitely
piqued. He finished off the second piece of pastry before asking
his next question. “Will Lady Marion not be offended if her uncle
fails to participate in the festivities?”

The two sisters looked at each other as if
the thought had never crossed their minds. A moment later, they
both shook their heads simultaneously.

“
Marion will understand,”
Margaret replied.

“
She will definitely
understand,” Judith agreed before getting up and serving Harington
two more pastries.

He could have behaved in a more mannerly
fashion and refused the pastry, as the Armstrong man had done.
These sweets were too good to pass up. “I really shouldn’t finish
all of these. I mean, you’re probably expecting the arrival of
other company for the wedding.”

“
No company,” Judith said
with a heavy sigh.

“
No company,” the older
sister added somberly. “We’re only waiting for Marion to return
with Sir Iain.”

Sir George found himself actually feeling
bad for the two aging sisters. They appeared so accomplished in
their courtesy and their conversation, but it was obvious they were
very lonely. He knew that in London, ladies such as these two would
have busy schedules and productive lives. He ate another one of the
pastries.

“
Besides, Sir George, we
like to bake,” Judith explained.

“
Baking and cooking,”
Margaret added.

“
We do both,” the younger
sister chirped in.

“
But there is only so much
food that we can eat.”

“
And we like having
guests.” Judith sent him a gentle smile.

“
But there are
few.”

Harington sipped his cider. “Do you get many
travelers who stop here?”

The two sisters again looked at each other
first before Margaret answered the question. “No travelers.”

“
No one stops
here.”

As quiet as Fleet Tower was, he thought,
perhaps they wouldn’t know if someone came and went.

“
What about your tenants?
Don’t you see them regularly?”

“
Heavens, no!” Lady
Margaret said.

“
Sir Iain has looked after
the tenants for years,” Judith explained, sitting back in her chair
and folding her hands demurely in her lap.

“
And your
villagers?”

“
Oh, we sometimes have help
from the villagers, but very rarely.” Margaret thought for a
moment. “And only for a short time.”