The Inheritance (5 page)

The next morning the Grants left.  Her father bid her farewell and told her to be a good and dutiful wife.  He hoped to hear good news soon and promised to tell her mother what a beautiful bride she’d been.  He asked her if all went well, and she nodded without meeting his eyes. Robert gave her a peck on the cheek and swung into the saddle eager to leave Kilmaron behind.  How she wished she was going home with them. 

Isobel
wasn’t sure what to do with herself once they left, so she took Matty and went to the garden.  Most of the flowers were no longer in season, but some of the rose bushes were still blooming and their sweet scent filled the air.  The gravel path was strewn with leaves and she inhaled their pungent odor as she walked around the empty garden.  Isobel breathed in the briny smell of the sea and pressed Matty closer to her chest, as much for warmth as for comfort.  She noticed a wrought-iron bench and was walking toward it when she heard the sound of footsteps.  She turned, half expecting to see John, but it was a girl her age with wild black curls and a moon-shaped face with dimples.  Her eyes were round and blue and she had the sweetest smile of anyone she’d ever seen.

“Good morning, may I walk with y
e?” asked the girl shyly.

“Of course,
I am Isobel,” she answered, not sure what the protocol was.

“I ken well enough who ye are,” the girl said with a smile.  “My name is Anna.  I am one of y
er husband’s cousins.  I just thought ye might be a little lonely now that yer kin’s gone home and ye dinnae know anyone save John, and I ken what a sour turd he can be, especially after a night of drinking,” she said giggling.

Isobel
couldn’t help but laugh with her.  “I see ye ken him well, and ye are right.  I was lonely.”

“After the walk, get y
er work basket and I will show ye the sewing room.  It has the best light, and most women go there to sew and to talk.  They are all eager to meet ye and bid ye welcome.”

The sewing room was located in the
east tower, and at this time of the morning it was flooded with pale sunshine.  There were about eight women of various ages already working on their mending and embroidery.  Two of them were noticeably pregnant and were sewing baby gowns and bonnets.  Anna introduced them to Isobel one by one, and most of the women seemed welcoming, save one.  Her name was Joan, and she was an attractive young woman with glossy brown hair and hazel eyes.  Isobel put her at around twenty and quickly glanced at her hand to see if she wore a wedding band.  Despite her words of welcome, Isobel felt as if she had just made an enemy. 

T
he talk quickly turned to marriage and bairns, and by the time the noon meal came around, Isobel didn’t feel so forlorn anymore.  Mary also seemed in better spirits when she met her on her way to the Hall.  She had met some of the other maids, and they made her welcome and told her some local gossip that she was only too happy to pass on to her mistress. 

“Do you
ken who that man with the black eyes is?” Isobel asked Mary as they looked out the window into the courtyard.  The man in question was coming out of the stable with one of the grooms.  He looked up and caught Isobel’s eyes.  She quickly turned from the window towards Mary pretending not to have seen him smile at her. 

“Aye,” answered Mary please
d to know something her mistress didn’t.  “His name is Rory.  He’s the son of the Laird’s brother.  One of the girls told me that yer husband hates him, and would like nothing better than to see him dead and buried.”

“
Why?” Isobel asked shocked. 

“Seems the old man has
quite a fondness for him, and there are some who wish he was the next laird.”  Mary suddenly looked flustered realizing what she’d said about her new master.  “It’s just idle gossip, I’m sure,” she added weakly.

“
Dinna worry, Mary.  Ye are just telling me what ye were told.  Ye are my eyes and ears in this place.  I need to ken everything ye ken.”  Isobel felt a little guilty to put Mary up to spying for her, but she knew that until the people of Kilmaron got comfortable with her, she would know very little of what actually went on, and being in ignorance was not a state she relished.

**

Isobel had some time before supper, so she made her way up to the battlements.  She stood at the parapet facing the sea, the gentle breeze caressing her face.  The fiery orb of the sun was about to sink below the horizon, and the darkening sky was liberally striped with bands of fuchsia and gold. Isobel had always loved this time of day.  There was something mystical about the purples and blues of twilight chasing away the harsh light of day, making everything appear magical for a few moments until darkness descended.  A tear slid down her cheek as she imagined what she would have been doing at home right now. 

“Are y
e all right, my lady?”  She didn’t hear anyone approach.  Rory McBride was standing by her side looking at her with concern. 

“
Aye, thank ye.  I was just a little homesick.  Forgive my foolishness.”  Isobel felt embarrassed that he saw her weakness since she normally kept her feelings to herself.

“I’ve lived in this castle for almost half my life and I
’m still homesick,” he confessed with a sad smile. 

“Really?  Where was y
er home?”

“When I was a lad we used to have a house in the village.  My father grew up at the castle with my uncle,
but after my parents got married, they decided they wanted a house of their own.  Both my parents died by the time I was thirteen, so my uncle had me brought here.  It was all right during the day since I was kept busy, but once the darkness came, all I could think about was being back at our house with my parents.”

“Are y
e still lonely?” she asked.

“Not at this moment.”  The sky was almost dark
, and Isobel reluctantly moved away from the parapet.  It was time to go down to the Hall for supper.  Rory escorted her to the stairs, but then excused himself and disappeared toward the library.  She wondered if she would ever stop feeling homesick as she walked in to the brightly lit room.      

John nodded at her as she walked in and took her seat by his side.  The servers were bringing the food from the kitchens
, and the noise level was rising as everyone took their seats.  There was no need to talk, so Isobel sat quietly contemplating what was to come later.  The thought of being alone with her husband left her feeling vulnerable and repulsed.  She told herself that maybe tonight would be different.  Last night, John had been drunk and didn’t know what he was doing.  Surely, he would talk with her and show her some affection now that the drink had worn off.  She watched as he poured himself another cup of ale and realized that her hopes were in vain.

 
John remained in the Hall talking and drinking long after she’d gone to their room, and by the time he came in he was just as drunk as the night before. He ordered her to bed and after a sloppy caress repeated the routine of the night before.  If there were anything to be thankful for, it was that at least it didn’t take him long.  He was snoring before she even blew the candle out, and Isobel firmly told herself to stop feeling sorry for herself, and went to sleep.  Tomorrow was another day, and she would do her best to make John care for her.

As the weeks passed, she
felt more at ease at the castle.  Anna was an invaluable source of information, and always lifted her spirits with the latest gossip and news.  Isobel began to piece some things together based on what she learned from Anna, heard from Mary, and saw with her own eyes.  John told her very little about his business.  He didn’t waste time talking to her, but she knew that things were happening. 

Isobel
didn’t know much about politics, but she heard snippets of conversation that led her to believe that the McBrides were supporters of King Jamie and his son, at least some of them.  When they drank to the king’s health, they passed their goblets over water, to signify that they were drinking the health of the other king, over the water, living in France.  She’d heard stories of the other uprisings that failed, but hope was building in the Highlands that this time would be different.  Prince Charles was young and likable, and seemed to have the support of the French king. 

She also noticed that these conversations were a lot less frequent when
Auld Alan was in the room, and she gathered that he wasn’t the fervent supporter of the Stuart king that his son was.  She wanted to learn more, but when she asked her husband, he looked at her in astonishment and told her not to fash herself about it.  It was man’s business.  Her business was to get with child, and give him a son and heir. 

Isobel
tried talking to John whenever they were together, but although he was never openly rude, he made it obvious that he had no desire to converse with her.  He answered her questions with monosyllables, and usually either left the room within a few minutes or went to sleep.  Isobel had tried suggesting going for a ride together or taking a walk in the garden, but John always had other business to attend to and rejected her repeatedly.  He was frequently away hunting, and came back reeking of horses and gunpowder and covered with the blood of the animals he killed and gutted. 

Mary had become fast friends with one of the kitchen maids named Morag.  She had lived at the castle her whole life and there was little she didn’t know.  The little maid had been reluctant to tell Isobel what she’d learned, but her devotion to her mistress prevailed.  Morag had told her in the greatest confidence, that John and his father had fought bitterly about Alan’s decision to have his son marry Isobel.  At twenty-six John was a grown man on his way to becoming the next Laird, and he didn’t care to have his father choose a bride for him.  He’d been smitten with Joan, the factor’s daughter, and she’d done her best to fan the flames of his lust in order to be the next lady of the castle.  Her efforts were about to pay off, as John had promised her that they would wed before Christmas, when Alan intervened. 

Now
Isobel understood the woman’s hostility toward her.  She had usurped the position she’d come to think of as hers.  According to Morag, Joan did not love John, but she was an ambitious girl, and happy enough to feign affection in order to become the Laird’s wife.  John was angry and disappointed, especially as Joan had withdrawn her affection after the wedding since there was nothing left for her to gain.

Within a few weeks Isobel knew everyone at the castle, and the suspicion that people felt toward a Grant began to dissipate.  Her days took on a routine and time passed by quickly.  Before she knew it, it was her eighteenth birthday and she was excited despite the fact that she wasn’t a child anymore.  Maybe John would give her a trinket to mark the occasion, and she could show him her gratitude which would be a step toward a warmer relationship between them.

Isobel
woke up on the morning of her birthday and turned to John’s side of the bed, but John was already gone.  She would go find him, she decided.  Mary came in, and together they chose an emerald-green dress that brought out her eyes and showcased her fiery curls.  Nothing would dampen her spirits.  Isobel took one last look in the mirror and left their bedchamber. 

She made her way down the spiral staircase and went to the Hall.  People were sitting at the tables having their morning bread and ale, but John was nowhere in sight. 
Isobel waved away a serving girl with a platter and left the Hall.  She checked the library and the parlor, and then made her way to the Laird’s office.  John went there sometimes to conduct business in private.  She heard his deep voice before she even opened the door, but her hand froze on the handle as she heard the voice of a woman.  They were having a heated argument, and although she couldn’t hear exactly what John was saying, the other person was clearly Joan. 

“I
’ll not allow ye to lay a finger on me, John McBride, until ye get rid of that besom ye’ve married.  Ye’ve had yer chance and now I’m considering other suits,” she hissed.

“Suits from
whom?” John bellowed. 

“That’s none of y
er business any longer!”  With that Joan swept out of the office, her head held high and her color high in her cheeks.  Isobel stepped aside to let her pass, and Joan glared at her as she swept past her.

John stormed out of the office behind her
, and seeing Isobel standing in the passage, found a target for his rage.

“Are y
e spying on me, ye meddling bitch?  Get out of my way afore I show ye the penalty for spying!”  With that, he shoved her roughly against the wall and ran down the stairs after Joan. 

Isobel
felt as if the floor had tilted beneath her, and she slumped down on the top step, putting her head against the cool roughness of the stone wall.  She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to slow down her hammering heart and her spinning head.  Strong arms lifted her up and she found herself face to face with Rory.  He didn’t ask her any questions, just walked her up the stairs and through the arched doorway to the battlements.  The November morning was frigid, and he removed his coat and put it over her shoulders.

“Breathe,” he said. 
Isobel took a couple of deep breaths and began to calm down.  She looked out at the swell of the waves on the teal-colored sea, and the weak November sunshine trying to break through the clouds.  From her vantage point, she could see the magnificent foliage of the forest and smell the earthy scent of decaying leaves that the walkway was strewn with. 

Rory turned her around to face him.  “Feeling better?  Did y
e feel faint?”  He looked at her with concern, and she suddenly realized that he probably thought she was with child.  She felt so humiliated that her eyes filled with tears and she leaned her forehead against his chest. 

“It’s not what y
e think.  I’ve just had a shock, that’s all.  It seems my husband is courting someone else, and I walked right into their lover’s quarrel,” she confessed reluctantly.  She didn’t want Rory to feel pity for her. 

“Not the birthday present y
e expected, was it?” he asked gently, lifting her face up with his finger. 

“How did y
e ken it was my birthday?”

“I overhead Anna telling Doug
al when I was at the forge.” 

Isobel
just nodded miserably.  What could she tell him, that her marriage was awful, and that her husband wished to get rid of her? 

“Go get y
er cloak, then ask one of the stable boys to saddle yer horse and meet me by the hollow tree.  Do ye ken where that is?”

She nodded again, wondering what he was planning.  It wouldn’t be seemly for them to be going out together, despite John’s behavior, but she obeyed and went to get her things. 
Isobel was relieved not to find John in their room.  She quickly put on her cloak and rushed down the stairs.  She asked one of the lads to saddle her mare, and galloped out of the castle gates toward the old hollow tree in the woods.  It had been hit by lightning years before, and stood charred and broken on the edge of a small meadow. 

Rory was already there, his gelding stomping around impatiently in the shadow of a
n ancient oak.  He beckoned her to follow, and she trotted after him obediently.  The narrow trail wound through the autumn woods and led them down the hill and toward the cliff side of the forest.  Rory jumped off his horse and tied him to a tree, before helping her down and doing the same with her horse.  He took her hand and led her down a narrow path to what seemed like a shelf of solid rock.  As they descended further, she saw the opening of a cave in the cliff face and followed Rory inside.  Isobel smelled the damp breath of the cave and felt a shiver of fear as she peered into the dark interior.  She hoped there were no bats. 

Rory sat her down on a large boulder at the mouth of the cave which overlooked the expanse of the sea
, telling her to relax while he got a fire going.  The view was breathtaking and she began to relax.  The warm orange glow from the fire illuminated the walls of the cave and she saw that they weren’t just rock. 

“Come and look,” Rory said.  The walls of the cave were sparkling in the firelight
, and Isobel saw shards of amethyst-colored crystal protruding from the ceiling and walls.  The crystal reflected the light, making the whole cave shimmer and sparkle with lavender light.  It looked magical, and Isobel held her breath as she walked around and touched the crystals.  Some of them were quite large, but some smaller ones littered the floor. 

“Thank y
e, Rory.  It’s beautiful.  I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said in wonder.

“Dougal and I found this cave when were
lads.  It was our secret place.”  He sat down on the boulder and took something out of the pack he’d brought. 

“Come and sit down with me.”  He handed her an oatcake and a bottle of cider.  “A birthday feast.” 
Isobel felt much happier as she munched on her cake and took a sip of cider.  It wouldn’t fix her marriage, but it was a nice moment and she would cherish it.  Rory took something out of his pocket and came behind her.  She felt him put something around her neck, and looked down to find a piece of pierced crystal on a leather thong.  The crystal was small and almost circular, but it had an indentation on one side and was a little pointier on the other, resembling a heart.  She looked up touched by the gesture. 

“Happy birthday,
Isobel.” 

Isobel
kissed his cheek and dropped the heart-shaped crystal inside the neckline of her gown.  She didn’t want anyone to see it.  It was her little secret. 

“Did y
e make it yerself?” she asked.

“Aye, I did.”

“Surely, there is someone ye meant to give it to,” she felt a little shy accepting such a personal gift from him.

“Na
y.  I forgot about it until I saw ye this morning and I kent it had to be ye.”

“We
’d better go, Rory.  I’ll be missed.”  She rose to her feet reluctantly, and he gave her his hand as they climbed back to the path.  Isobel held her breath as he helped her mount her mare, and she still felt the warmth of his hands on her waist as they turned back toward the castle.  They couldn’t be seen coming back together, so Rory let her go on, while he went the other way.  Isobel rode through the castle gate feeling vastly better than when she left an hour ago.