Chapter 3

She was in full wail when I saw her. Her body was shaking with the force of her cries. It was a wonder she couldn’t be heard from the sitting room upstairs. Maisie knelt on the floor next to Brenda, her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

I should have turned around and left quietly, but Cadi would no doubt wonder where the tea was and it clearly wasn’t the best time to ask Maisie to bring anything up to the sitting room. I cleared my throat and stepped into the room.

“Maisie? Brenda?” I asked softly. “Is everything all right? Are you hurt, Brenda?” I knew she wasn’t, that this had something to do with her earlier mishap in the dining room, but it felt like the right thing to say.

She looked up at me, startled. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her flushed face was streaked with tears. Maisie looked at me, too, and closed her eyes almost as if she were embarrassed.

I knelt down with them. “Can I do anything for either of you?” I asked. I was concerned that something was seriously wrong with Brenda and I wanted to help. “Can I get you a glass of water, Brenda?”

She shook her head and choked back another sob, then put her hands over her face. I looked at Maisie and she gazed at me with a helpless look, her eyes pleading and her mouth pinched and drawn. Tears shone in the corners of her eyes and I could almost feel the pain she was feeling, though I didn’t know the cause of it.

“We’re having a rough time of it, Eilidh,” she said softly. That much I knew.

“I don’t want to intrude or interfere,” I said. “I actually just came down for tea for Cadi, but I don’t have to go upstairs if you need me down here for anything.”

Brenda continued to cry while Maisie shook her head. “Thank you, Eilidh, but this is something Brenda and I have to deal with ourselves.”

I pushed myself to my feet and walked softly to the cupboard where the fruity herbal teas were stored. I took what I needed from the cupboard and went to the kitchen door. Before I left the room, I turned to Maisie and Brenda. “Please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything you need,” I urged them. “I’ll be happy to help.”

Brenda’s crying had slowed since I entered the room, but she didn’t look up from the floor. She just gave a slight nod. Maisie looked up at me again and mouthed the words “thank you.” I returned to the sitting room with a feeling of overwhelming sadness for Brenda. Whether her outburst had something to do with Andreas or with her embarrassment over spilling an entire gravy boat earlier or something else entirely, my heart broke for her.

Back in the salon we talked for a bit about Sian’s pregnancy, but Annabel was the only other person in the room who could relate to Sian’s experiences. Cadi rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically more than once, and each time Annabel shot her a look of dark disapproval. Cadi didn’t seem to care. Andreas looked thoroughly bored, Hugh examined his fingernails with great intensity, and Rhisiart thumbed through a novel that had been sitting on the coffee table. Even Annabel’s questions to Sian seemed forced, as if she were reading from a script. I got the feeling she would rather have been spending time alone with her sons and I couldn’t blame her—they were really the ones she wanted most to see. Not that I didn’t enjoy talking about nesting, cravings, and baby names, but I barely knew Sian and found that her pregnancy details were really more information than I needed or wanted.

After a half hour Sian announced that she was ready for bed. Cadi quickly agreed, saying that the “extraordinarily long day” had left her “practically lifeless.” I was glad to see her leave and I know Annabel was, too.

When Sian and Cadi had left, Annabel moved to sit closer to Andreas. She patted his knee, finally wearing a smile. She obviously preferred the company of her boys to that of their wives. Andreas was her favorite—she had said as much several times since I’d started working for her—and I knew why. He was the only one who bothered to visit her.

I sometimes wondered what was behind his visits—was it really love for his mother? Was it a sense of familial duty? Was it to curry favoritism? I didn’t know, and I suppose it didn’t matter. As long as Annabel was happy, that was the important thing, wasn’t it?

After chatting about the weather and other mundane topics for several long minutes during which her sons’ expressions turned from dutiful attention to glazed boredom, Annabel stood up and walked over to the hearth. I knew what was coming.

She stood up a little straighter and cleared her throat.

“I’m sure you’ve all figured out why you’re here, but we haven’t actually said it out loud. I’ve been waiting for a long time to talk to you boys, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it until now. I guess it’s really the new grandbaby coming that spurred me to want to do it.” Andreas was watching his mother intently. Annabel was twisting a handkerchief she held and laughed nervously. She looked at me and I nodded to encourage her to keep talking. This was obviously very hard for her.

“Well, here goes.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I know that things weren’t easy while you boys were growing up, and I want to say that I’m sorry.” She paused for a moment.

Andreas spoke. “Mum, you don’t…”

Annabel shook her head and held up her hand. “Let me finish or else I won’t be able to. I’m sorry for the things I didn’t do, the things I didn’t say, to save you from your own father. I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you when you needed protecting and that I didn’t stand up for you. I was young and not very bright, and I thought the brutality would stop by itself. But it didn’t, and you boys paid as high a price as I did.”

She stopped speaking, and the room fell silent.

“Thank you, Mum,” Rhisiart mumbled, looking down at his hands. His brothers nodded their agreement.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Now that Annabel had gotten through this conversation, the hardest part of the boys’ visit, she didn’t need my support any longer. This was a subject they needed to discuss as a family, and I was an outsider. After a long moment I stood up. “If you’ll all excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed.” Amid a murmured chorus of “goodnight,” I closed the door to the salon quietly and walked quickly toward my room on the opposite wing of the castle. I paused when I reached the steps leading down to the kitchen, wondering if I should go down to see if everything was all right, but I decided I was an outsider in the drama playing out between Maisie and Brenda, too, and that what I needed most was a good night’s sleep.

My room was cold when I went inside. I built a fire in the fireplace and sat in front of it for a while, reading a book I had taken from the library on the second floor of the castle. It was one of Rhisiart’s books. The name “Rhisiart Tucker” was prominent above the title on the cover. It featured a man running down a darkened rainy street with the lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background. Though thrillers weren’t my favorite books to read, I found that Rhisiart’s writing drew me into the story unfolding in the Fourth Arrondissement and I was enjoying the fast-paced tale.

When I started yawning I closed the book and crawled under the covers of the big bed. Though the fire had made me toasty and comfortable while I sat reading, my sheets were still shockingly cold when I touched them. The first few minutes in bed I shivered and hugged my knees to my chest until I finally felt warmth seeping through my bones and could stretch out. Annabel would be happy, I knew, to have the short speech to her sons out of the way. I didn’t know how the three men felt about it, but at least it hadn’t been greeted with anger and blame, which I knew she had feared. Knowing she would go to bed relieved tonight was a relief to me, too.

The only little prick of worry I had as I drifted off to sleep was Brenda—both the incident in the dining room and the resulting episode I had witnessed in the kitchen. My heart went out to the young girl, and I knew her mother was worried about her, too.

When a loud bang startled me out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night, I sat up straight in bed and cocked my head, listening for other noises. I didn’t hear anything. I probably dreamed it, I thought.

I snuggled down under the covers again and was soon dozing, but through the fog in my sleep-addled brain I was sure I heard faint crying. I sat up again. The room was deliciously warm from the fire that still burned low in the grate, but I still hated to get out from under the comfort of the blankets. Reluctantly I tucked my feet into the slippers I kept at the side of the bed and went to the door. After opening it cautiously, I peered into the long hallway. The gas-lit sconces provided quivering candlelight at regular intervals, making the spaces between them eerily dark.

Even in the dim light, though, there was no mistaking the shadow that flitted across the hall down toward the main door to the castle. I hesitated, not knowing who the shadow belonged to or whether I should try to figure it out. The crying continued, now a little louder because my door was open. My mind told me to shut the door, get back into bed, and ignore the nighttime goings-on. My heart told me to find out who was crying and whose shadow I had seen from the safety of my bedroom doorway.

I followed my heart, as usual.

It was very cold in the hallway, so I ducked back into my room for my thick robe. Then, pulling the sash tight around my waist, I slipped into the hallway and closed the bedroom door behind me.

I instinctively stayed close to the wall as I followed the flickering sconces to the castle’s great hall. In daylight, this entrance to the home was a magnificent gallery of antique furniture, a polished stone floor, stained glass windows, an enormous, colorfully-painted wooden coat of arms, and even an ancient suit of armor, posed with a lance. In the dim light of night, however, the main hall was a frightening place. The furniture gave way to dark, shapeless forms, the suit of armor took on a more sinister stance, and the stained glass, which depicted pastoral scenes in daylight, seemed to glow with an evil darkness.

When I reached the huge front door, the iron bolt that kept the door locked from the inside had been slid to one side. Someone had left the castle. That must have been the bang I heard. The person I had seen stealing along the corridor was nowhere to be found. Maybe the bang was a person coming in, not going out. Perhaps the person I had seen had just come in from outdoors. I hadn’t heard anyone as I made my way to the great hall, and I didn’t see or hear anyone now that I was standing by the front door.

I was perplexed. I hadn’t dreamed it. There had been a person in the hallway and I had come quickly to the main entrance to the castle. How could I have missed him—or her? But I had gone back into my room to pull on my robe. Had the person disappeared in such a short time? Had he or she gone upstairs? Downstairs? Had the person perhaps ducked into one of the rooms on the main floor and was waiting, listening, until I left to return to my bedroom? The thought sent chills up to the nape of my neck.

Was I just being silly? Maybe Hugh had gone out for Cadi’s toiletries, though it was quite late for that. Maybe someone had gone down to the kitchen to get a snack. That was a far more likely explanation. There were a million reasons someone in the castle might be about during the night, so stop making up sinister reasons, I told myself with a grimace.

But that didn’t explain the crying I had heard so plainly. Was the person in the hallway the one who had been crying? And what had he—or more likely, she—been crying about? I didn’t know Andreas or Hugh or Rhisiart very well, but none of them seemed to be the emotional type.

I was spooking myself and it was getting very cold standing still in the great hall, so I turned on the lights and peeked into the sitting room and the dining room. I didn’t see anyone in either room so I hurried back to the safety and warmth of my own room and my own bed.

It was still dark out when I awoke, but my room faced the east and I could see a tinge of pink in the sky in the distance. I showered and dressed quickly so I could greet everyone as they filed into the dining room for breakfast. Annabel was an early riser, so I liked to be available when she woke up just in case she needed me for something. I sat down at the dining room table by myself. The newspaper was already there, so I read that until I heard the stirrings of guests. Maisie and Brenda came in and out of the dining room several times to leave chafing dishes, a teapot, and a small samovar of coffee. I helped myself to a cup of tea, then another, while I waited for Annabel to join me. As I expected, she came into the dining room before any of her sons or their wives.

“How’d everything go after I went to bed last night?” I asked as she sat down next to me.

She thought for a moment before answering. “I think it went quite well. I asked them to forgive me for not helping them when I was the only one who could, and they told me they forgive me for my mistakes. I hope that Sian and Cadi can forgive me if their husbands can.”

“You couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome,” I said, taking a sip of tea.

Annabel sighed. “If I had never gotten myself into that mess, nothing bad would have happened to the boys.”

“But as you said, you were young. You got yourself into a situation that you weren’t prepared to handle. You did the best you could.”

“But did I, really? Or was I just as afraid as they were?” She shook her head. “I don’t like to think too deeply about it or I might not like the truth I discover.”

“Annabel, what’s done is done. You can’t change it now, so it’s best to move forward. And that’s exactly what you’re doing now. You may not have been able to help the boys in the past, but you’re doing the right thing now. And they seem to have forgiven you for it. They love you. You know that.”

“Sometimes I wonder. It’s too bad we can’t go back and change the things we did wrong, isn’t it?”

My mind went back to Cauld Loch when I heard her words. I thought of my marriage to Callum, his mistakes, and our divorce. Would I have changed anything? I didn’t think so—at least, I wouldn’t have changed anything about myself or my actions. I would have changed Callum’s actions, that was sure, but I didn’t have that power. What I had said to Annabel applied to me, too—the past was in the past, and all I could do was to move forward. Which is exactly what I was doing.

Just then Cadi came in. Her eyes were bright and they darted around the room when she saw Annabel and me.

“Good morning, Cadi,” Annabel said. “I hope you slept well last night.”

“I did. Thank you. I expected the room to be cold, but we lit a fire in the fireplace and it was nice and warm. Almost too warm, really.”

“Speaking of warm, I think I need a sweater,” Annabel said, standing up.

Cadi helped herself to a cup of tea then came and sat down next to me.

“What did you think about what happened last night?” she asked. I was startled for a moment, thinking she meant the sounds I had heard in the hallway, but I realized she was probably talking about Annabel’s apology to her sons. Hugh must have discussed it with her.

“You mean Annabel’s apology?” I asked. “I know how nervous she was to talk to everyone about it, and I know she was afraid the boys wouldn’t accept her apology or allow her or themselves to move on from it, so I think it went quite well.”

Cadi waved her hand. “Oh, that. Yes, I suppose that went fine. God knows Hugh has been waiting for an apology for years. I meant what happened afterward.”

I shook my head warily, not wanting her to know I had heard the crying and the banging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What happened?”

Her eyes widened. “Didn’t you hear the fight?”

“No. What fight?”

“Between Andreas and Sian.”

“I must have missed it.”

“I don’t know how you could have missed it,” Cadi said, taking a long swig of her tea. “They were loud enough to wake the dead.”

“Where?”

“In their bedroom. It was after midnight when Hugh came to bed. Andreas and Sian and Hugh and I are on the same wing. He had just gotten into bed when we heard shouting.” She paused, probably for dramatic effect. “Hugh has these earplugs he uses at night because he doesn’t sleep well. So he put the earplugs in and fell asleep after about fifteen minutes. The fight kept raging and I swear I heard Sian crying. Then about an hour later one of them left. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the front door slam.”

“I had no idea,” I lied.

“That’s shocking,” Cadi said, tossing her short hair. “Whoever slammed the door needs to be much quieter. It even woke Hugh up, despite his earplugs.”

It was against my better judgment to ask what the fight was about, but I had a feeling Cadi would volunteer the information if I waited long enough.

“Hopefully the fight was just a short-lived one and they’ll be fine this morning,” I said.

“Don’t count on it,” Cadi answered. “Fights like that one tend to repeat themselves over and over, if you know what I mean.”

I stared at her blankly. I really didn’t know what she meant, but I knew my response would nudge her to reveal the cause of the fight.

“Money,” she said, speaking as if I were simple.

“Money?” I repeated. I had been under the impression money was not an issue for Andreas and Sian.

“That’s right,” Cadi answered smugly. “You’d think a couple with everything wouldn’t fight about money, but they were furious.”

“How could you tell?”

“I heard them throwing around words like ‘mortgage’ and ‘credit cards’ and ‘bills.’ When you think about it, those are the financial things couples fight about. They’re no different from the rest of us, I guess.” She sounded almost gleeful.

Cadi had a point—Andreas and Sian did seem to have everything. They drove an expensive car, they wore designer, albeit casual, clothes, Sian carried a very expensive handbag, they had a posh address in London, and I had seen pictures of the baby’s nursery—it was breathtaking and definitely the room of a privileged child. Why should they be fighting about money?

Annabel came back into the dining room wrapped in a warm sweater. “This is much better,” she said. “Both of you girls help yourselves to breakfast. I’ll wait for the others.”

I went to the sideboard and prepared a plate of eggs, beans, and mushrooms. I had a feeling I would need some fortification to get through the day, so I took more food than usual. I sat at the dining room table while Annabel read the paper and Cadi simply sat looking out the window, sipping her tea now and then. Surely it had gotten cold.

Hugh came in next, followed quickly by Rhisiart. Each of them greeted Annabel with a peck on the cheek and Hugh sat down next to his wife. “Where are Andreas and Sian?” he asked.

“Not here yet,” she replied tersely.

“Did you say something about their fight last night?” Hugh asked her.

“Not yet,” she said, her gaze darting toward Annabel. Annabel looked over the top of the paper.

“What? Did Andreas and Sian have a fight last night? Oh, dear.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Mum,” Hugh said, walking over to the sideboard to load a plate with potatoes, eggs, sausage, and mushrooms. He plunked the plate down on the table and helped himself to a cup of tea with a shocking amount of sugar. Cadi watched him and grimaced.

“Well, I don’t like to think that they’re unhappy about something, especially with the baby coming,” Annabel fretted.

“Mum,” Hugh said with a sigh. “Every couple fights. It’s normal. Now eat breakfast and stop worrying, for pity’s sake.”

“I’ll wait for them,” his mother answered. “I want to make sure everything is all right. You are all scheduled to go hiking this afternoon, right, Eilidh?” she asked, turning to me. “I want everyone to enjoy the day.” Hugh shook his head and started eating. Cadi asked Annabel for a section of the newspaper and leafed through it, scanning the headlines while Hugh and I ate breakfast.

I had just finished my last sip of tea and was pushing by my chair back to go get another cup when Sian came into the room. Her eyebrows were knit together and her face looked stormy.

“Has anyone seen Andreas?” she asked.

We all looked at each other and shook our heads. “Where is he?” Cadi asked.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t have asked,” Sian answered with a sneer.

“I haven’t seen him yet this morning,” Annabel said, ignoring the glares that passed between her daughters-in-law. “Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast? You look a little peaked.”

Sian gave Annabel a look of frustration, but she did as her mother-in-law suggested. She didn’t eat much, though, opting for just a piece of bread and a cup of herbal tea.

“Sian, are you sure you’re eating enough?” Annabel fretted. “I don’t want to meddle, but I want to make sure you’re getting plenty to eat. I want to make sure that grandbaby of mine is growing. Should I ask Maisie to prepare something else?”

“No, no,” Sian hastened to assure Annabel. “I’m fine. Just not very hungry, I guess. I’ll eat more later, I promise.”

“Anything wrong, Sian?” Cadi asked, her voice all innocence.

Sian cocked her head and stared at Cadi through narrowed eyes. “As if you have no idea what’s going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cadi said, a slight smile touching her lips.

Sian rolled her eyes. “Cadi, you’re positively flushed with excitement over what you must have heard last night. Stop pretending.”

“Well, you two were a little loud. And I don’t know who left through the front door and slammed it, but that shook the building to its very rafters.”

“It could have been Andreas. I don’t know,” Sian answered.

“I’m sure it was Andreas,” Cadi said.

“Cadi, let it go. It’s none of our business,” Hugh admonished her, then continued, ignoring his own advice. “Sian, what’s Andreas up to that’s causing money problems?”

“Our financial matters are none of your business, Hugh,” Sian said.

“You made them our business when you shouted them at the tops of your lungs last night,” Cadi said.

Sian stood up and threw her napkin down on the table. “Annabel, I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going for a walk.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room as best a pregnant woman could do.

Annabel stood up, too. “Oh, no. Now what’ll we do? Andreas must be around here somewhere. He should really be the one to talk to Sian. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of them. I’m sure Sian doesn’t want to talk to me about their problems.”

“I’ll ask Maisie to make up a plate for Sian to eat later,” I offered. It gave me an excuse to leave the dining room, where it was becoming increasingly tense. I went downstairs to the relative calm of the kitchen and found Maisie in there.

“Maisie, could you fix a plate so Sian can have her breakfast later? She’s not herself this morning and I don’t think she feels like eating right now.”

“What’s the matter?” Maisie asked.

“She and Andreas had an argument last night and I think she’s still a bit upset,” I said.

“Sure,” Maisie said. She wiped her hands on a dish towel hanging next to her and hurried up the stairs. I lingered in the kitchen, wondering how long I could stay down there without Annabel starting to wonder where I had gone. I loved the peace and quiet of below-stairs and wasn’t ready to return to the family.

But the peace and quiet didn’t last long.