“Och, miss!” Bonnie drew away and trouble filled her eyes. “Wha’ o’ Master Evan? Seumas did tell me the master had been attacked and is now sore hurt.”
“Sore hurt, aye.”
“Has Master Evan been found?”
Annista shook her head with regret. Fear flooded Bonnie’s eyes and Annista saw at once why Seumas longed to protect her.
“Wha’ if he returns to—to finish wha’ he tried to do to me?”
“He will no’. We shall be on watch, all o’ us.”
“Aye.” Bonnie stared into Annista’s eyes. “For, Mistress, much as I hate to say it, Master Evan is an evil, evil man.”
****
Annista thought about Bonnie’s words as she changed her clothing. Was anyone truly evil? The teachings of the Church would argue so. There were clear-cut lines drawn between good and evil, light and darkness. But was any child born evil?
Annista had her doubts. Could a child, once grown, be turned toward darkness by those who raised him? And were Earl MacKallan and his lady the people to do any such thing?
She could not quite believe it. After all, they had raised Alan also. And she would swear he was a good man to his heart.
There must, thus, be some fatal flaw inside Evan that rendered him capable of the terrible things he did. Beating his horse. Setting the fire at the Duncans’. Knocking down his father and attacking Bonnie.
Killing Robena?
Annista knew better than anyone how gentle Robena was. To a man like Evan, might that prove an irresistible invitation to abuse?
She did not—could not—know if Evan bore responsibility for Robena’s death. She knew that she herself feared him. That she would protect those she loved. And keep her promise to her mother if she could.
With Bonnie’s help, she changed into dry clothing, making sure the knife was secure in her pocket, and went in search of a hot drink. Not wishing to cause more work than necessary for the troubled staff, she entered the kitchen.
Not much seemed to be underway there, the fires near-guttered and Cook standing about talking to the staff, all of them clearly distressed.
When Cook turned to Annista, she saw the woman had been crying.
“Och, Mistress Annista! Is there any word? O’ the Master, I mean—or o’ Master Evan.” Fear invaded the woman’s eyes when she spoke the name.
Evan, it seemed, excelled at prompting that emotion.
Sympathy for these workers filled her voice when she said, “Naught o’ change, so far as I know. We are awaiting the physician.”
“Is the master’s condition unco’ grave?” Cook asked piteously. “He is a good master. Clear wi’ his likes and dislikes, and no’ unkind. Gives us liberty on holy days and a feast at Christmas—” She began to weep anew.
One of the kitchen maids spoke up timidly. “Should he d-die, and Master Evan tak’ over—God help us all! I do no’ ken whether I could stay. Yet—where would I go?”
“Let us try not to worry for wha’ has no’ yet happened.” Annista attempted to soothe them. “I understand ye—we—are all frightened. Ye ha’ barred the back door?”
They all nodded.
And the yard beyond was well-guarded. Yet, as Alan believed, Evan knew each and every way into the manor, even those that might remain unguarded, and had got into the house before, unnoticed.
“Keep together,” she advised, “and stay indoors. Now, if I might ha’ a hot drink?”
They sprang into action, hurrying to comply, and offered to bring it to the hall or the solar. Annista preferred to sit right there at the big wooden table while the kitchen came to life around her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
When the physician arrived with an exhausted Jock hitching a ride on his carriage, Alan met him at the door. The footmen were all otherwise occupied and, anyway, he was too anxious to do aught else.
