Page 49 of When the Laird Conquers

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged in a calm, gentle voice. “Tell me what ails ye.”

“I almost… lost my niece today,” she rasped, her voice shaking. “And to lose her would have been like losing my sister twice. Lizzy is… all I have left of Christine, and no… one else seems to care. No one lets me… talk about my sister. It is… as if everyone else is eager to… forget her, to act as if she… never existed. And what is most ironic is that… Christine is the one person I used to… talk to about everything.”

“Christine is yer sister?”

The simple use of ‘is’ instead of ‘was’ almost broke her again.

“Yes, she is—was. And I miss her.” Her breath hitched. “Goodness, how I miss her. I wouldn’t trade Lizzy for anything, but… I desperately wish my sister had never met that… that terrible man!”

“Two things can be true at once,” Gordon said softly. “Nay one could ever doubt that ye love yer niece.”

“But my sister should be here to raise her,” Agnes argued, angry now. “It isn’t fair that she is gone, and it isn’t fair that he gets to shirk his duties as a father.”

“What happened?”

Agnes turned away, her eyes narrowing as she stared into the flames in the fireplace. “All was well. The labor had not been easy, but my sister was heroic, and she was in good spirits afterward. Tired but joyful. Lizzy was healthy and asleep, the physician was content that everything was in order, Christine was so proud and so in love, and it felt like everything was going to be all right.”

“And then he turned up, demanding to see his child,” she hissed. “I did not want to let him, but my father insisted that it was Edwin’s right to see his child. I reminded my father that Edwin had refused to marry Christine, but I suppose my father hoped that Edwin was there to set things right.”

“He wasnae?”

Agnes shook her head. “I was dismissed from the room, but I heard him shouting at her. I stayed away for as long as I could, but when I heard Lizzy crying, I marched back in there. He was standing over the baby, staring at her, and Christine was weeping.” Her lip curled. “Edwin left soon after, and… I am convinced even now that he was the cause of her death.”

“Ye think he killed her?” Gordon’s voice darkened, and she thought of what she had seen in the marketplace.

Perhaps ridding the world of Edwin would not be such a terrible thing. If it could be done as swiftly and skillfully as it had been done to his minions, then she could feign ignorance.

But then Gordon would be in trouble.

“No, not exactly,” she answered after a moment. “I think the… stress of their meeting killed her, or… I do not know, but I have this nagging doubt that I am missing something. Then again, perhaps I just want to have someone to blame.”

Gordon got up and moved closer, sitting in the nearby armchair. “Tell me of yer suspicion, lass.”

“That is the problem; I cannot. It is just a feeling.” She shrugged, pausing. “When women die in childbirth, they die during or shortly after, do they not?”

“That’s me understandin’,” he replied, “but I cannae say for sure.”

“Yes, but they do not die hours later, after the physician has informed them that everything seems well and after they have been perfectly well,” she countered. “Christine was in fine health until Edwin visited. By morning, she was gone, and it has never made sense to me, but no one else seems to think it is strange.”

Even now, she doubted herself. Physicians made mistakes all the time, and no one else seemed to think it was suspicious. So, maybe she really just wanted someone to blame, someone to hate so that she could make better sense of such an awful tragedy.

“I just miss her.” Her voice cracked. “I miss her, and I hate that Lizzy has her father’s hair instead of Christine’s. I hate that she resembles him at all. And I miss home, and I miss walking by the river, gossiping with my sister, and I miss my sister’s laughter, and… and I miss who I was before all of this. It wasn’t just Christine who died. She took so much of me with her, and most of the time, I feel I am but half a person. A shell that is about to shatter.”

Gordon rose from the armchair to come to her side, kneeling. His hand dipped into the hot, fragrant water and found hers.

“Ye willnae shatter,” he told her.

“Won’t I?” she challenged, gripping his hand tightly. “I am trying so very hard at something I have no experience in. I am trying to play a role I am unfit for, and… I feel as if I am failing that sweet girl. Yes, she is fed and rested and clothed and tended to, but… will she be happy? Will she be like her mother? Will she live a good life with me, when I do not know what I am doing?

“The old me would know how to make her laugh and how to assure her happiness… but it is so bloody hard to be solely responsible for a life!” She shocked herself with her somewhat coarse language, hearing Aunt Tabitha’s scolding voice in her head.

Gordon squeezed her hand. “Ye’re doin’ better than ye think. Actually, I think ye ken ye’re doin’ well, but it’s all muddled with everythin’ else. Ye cannae give yerself the credence ye deserve when ye ken it should be someone else in yer place.”

His words could have been her own, voicing what she had been feeling for months. Even small enjoyments were tainted by the fact that Christine wasn’t there to witness them: every babbling laugh and smile that Lizzy showed, every new thing the baby learned, and all the progress that Christine would miss. How could Agnes enjoy this unexpected motherhood when Lizzy’s real mother was gone?

“But what if something happens to me?” she continued, unable to stop now. “What will happen to Lizzy if I am not around? Aunt Tabitha would take care of her, undoubtedly, but that would be an inferior existence. My aunt is strict. She would not speak of Christine, and she would raise Lizzy to be prim and proper and joyless.”

“Nothin’ is goin’ to happen to ye,” he said softly.