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"Aye," her mother had agreed grimly and caught Annabel by the arm to drag her into the castle.
Annabel hadn't resisted, but had allowed herself to be dragged along, her head turned the whole time and eyes wide on the man who she had come to realize was her father. Her mother wasn't the only one who had aged these past fourteen years. Her father was no longer the strong handsome man she recalled from her youth. His muscular chest had fallen, it seemed, down to where his flat stomach used to be, only it was muscle no more. And he had somehow grown shorter, or perhaps he had only seemed taller back then because she had been a small child.
As for his once handsome face, it was now covered with graying facial hair that appeared to have grown in as wildly as untended weeds in a garden. She could hardly fathom that this was the father of her memories. So startled by this transformation was she, that Annabel hadn't really taken note of what had been said, so was completely taken aback when they'd entered a bedchamber in the upper tower and her mother had made her announcement. While her initial response had been a squawk of pure protest, she was now trying to understand the information just imparted, but her brain couldn't seem to absorb it.
Annabel took a deep breath and gave her head a shake. A couple more deep breaths and she felt calm enough to ask, "Pray, I do not think I heard you correctly, my lady. Did you just say--?"
"You are marrying the MacKay in your sister's place," her mother repeated firmly. Oddly enough the firm tone she used did not make the words any more comprehensible.
"How can that be?" she asked with confusion. "I am an oblate. I am to take the veil." She paused briefly, but when her mother didn't comment, Annabel thought perhaps she wasn't grasping the situation, and added, "I am becoming a nun. I am marrying Jesus."
"Not anymore," her mother assured her. "You have not yet taken the veil, and are free to marry. The contract states that Ross MacKay is to marry the eldest surviving daughter of William Withram. With your sister gone, that is you now. You have to marry him or we forfeit the dower as well as a great deal of coin. It would ruin us. You will marry him."
Annabel stared at her silently and then asked, "What happened to Kate? How did she die?"
Lady Waverly released a snort of disgust and walked over to sink wearily onto the end of the bed. "Would that she were dead rather than having caused the shame she has brought upon us."
Annabel's eyes widened and she rushed forward as hope clutched at her briefly. "If she is not dead--"
"She ran off with the stable master's son," Lady Waverly interrupted harshly. "Your father has disowned and disinherited her. For all intents and purposes, she is dead. You are the eldest daughter now and you will marry Ross MacKay."
Annabel sank onto the end of the bed next to her mother, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her weight. Her voice was equally weak when she said, "But I do not know how to be a wife. I was always going to become a nun. All my training has been toward that end. I do not know the first thing about running a household, or--or anything," she added helplessly.
When her mother patted her hand, she glanced to her in the hopes of some encouragement and received, "Aye. 'Twill most likely be a mess. Howbeit, at least your father and I will not be ruined."
"Aye, there is that," Annabel agreed dryly.
Lady Waverly nodded, apparently entirely missing her sarcasm. That was probably a good thing, she acknowledged. The abbess would have frowned on the comment and punished her accordingly. The abbess had punished her a good deal over the years. In truth, Annabel supposed she would not have made a very good nun anyway. Certainly she hadn't made a very good novice. Or a good postulant for that matter. She'd been a postulant for years before the abbess had put her forward to be a novice, and Annabel suspected the woman had done so out of sheer pity.
Annabel wasn't sure what was wrong with her exactly. She had expected to be a nun and had made a real effort to fit into the fold, but despite her best efforts, her tongue did run away with her at times. Her tongue, her temper, her appetite--
Grimacing, Annabel cut off the litany in her head. She was well aware of her shortcomings as a nun. The abbess and prioress had both pointed them out often enough. Still, as bad as she might have been at it, being a nun was the only thing she knew and if she could not manage that after years working toward it, how on earth would she get along as a wife and lady, for which she had absolutely no training?
Annabel sighed miserably and her mother popped up off the bed as if it were some sort of cue.
"Well, I had best go see where the maids are so we can get you dressed," she announced briskly, heading for the door.
"Dressed?" Annabel asked uncertainly, standing as well.
"Well you cannot meet your betrothed in a wimple," her mother said as if that should be obvious.
"But--is he here now?" she asked with new alarm.
"Nay, but he will be soon and I'm sure it will take forever to make you acceptable. Wait here; I will return directly."
"Mother?" Annabel said suddenly as the woman started out of the room.
Lady Waverly paused in the door to peer back impatiently. "What?"
She hesitated, but then raised her head and asked the question she'd wondered since being taken away from her home as a young child. "Why was I sent to Elstow as a child?"
Her mother's eyebrows rose slightly. "Well, you would have been sent there anyway eventually."
"I would have?" Annabel asked with a frown.
"Aye, and Kate would have too had I born a son after you. But as it happens, while I was with child several times afterward, none survived to birth."
Annabel couldn't tell if it was relief on her mother's face or regret . . . perhaps a combination of the two. She suspected the woman would have been pleased to have born one son for her husband, and that was it. Being hampered with baby girls had not been convenient from what she could tell.
"So," her mother continued with a shrug. "Kate, as the eldest and heir, had to stay here to learn how to run Waverly so that after your father and I died, she would know how to run it when it passed to her and her husband. But there was no reason to keep you here."
"You never considered the possibility of my marrying instead?" Annabel asked quietly, even though she was quite sure she knew the answer.
Lady Waverly grimaced and shook her head at the very suggestion. "Kate was always the one with the fine looks. You were always a chubby little thing. To find a suitable lord, willing to marry you, would have taken more coin than we were willing to invest. Fortunately, the abbey took you for half the dower it would have cost us to marry you off, and they took you young, so we didn't have to feed, clothe, or bother with training you all those years either. And, of course, it's always good to have a family member in the church praying for your soul as we knew the abbess would make you do." Her eyes narrowed. "She did make you pray for us, didn't she?"
"Aye," Annabel said at once.
"Good." Lady Waverly relaxed, but then raked her with a displeased glance. "Now, 'tis going to take a great deal of work to make you presentable. I need to get the servants so they can start on it straightaway."
"Of course," Annabel murmured, and then watched the door close. While her mother had made it obvious she was a disappointment, Annabel was used to that. No matter how hard she had tried, she'd always seemed to disappoint the abbess too . . . and no doubt would be a disappointment to her husband as well.
Pushing the depressing knowledge away, Annabel peered around the room she was in. She was quite sure it was the room she'd shared with Kate as a child, though the bedding and drapes around the bed were different now. It made her recall nights long ago when she and Kate had lain abed giggling about some joke or other. That in turn made her wonder about her sister.
"She ran off with the stable master's son," her mother had said.
The idea was rather shocking to Annabel. A sense of duty was pounded into postulants and novices at the abbey. All she could think was that Kate must have truly loved th
e stable master's son to go against their parents so. She would have to ask her mother about it when she returned, Annabel decided as she removed her wimple.
"Thank God I did not cut my hair," she muttered as she ran a hand through the long strands. Annabel was quite sure having a shorn head would not have helped matters here.
Chapter 2
"Sit, sit."
Ross tore his gaze away from the woman rushing down the stairs at Lord Withram's words and moved to settle at the table.
"You must be thirsty after your journey. I shall see about refreshments," the man said and hurried away.
"He seems a touch anxious about something," Gilly commented as they watched the lord of Waverly scurry, not to the kitchens, but to the woman who had just come downstairs. Grimacing, he then added, "But then, so was the stable master. Wringing his hands and avoiding our eyes in the stables."
Ross had noticed that. He'd also noted that everyone they'd passed or encountered so far had smiled nervously and then rushed away as if afraid they may be asked a question they didn't want to answer. It was enough to make a lesser man nervous, but Ross wasn't the sort to worry about things before they happened. He was content to wait and see, so he merely grunted in response to Gilly's words and watched Lord Withram converse briefly with the lady before the two hurried off to the kitchens together.
"Where do ye think yer bride is?" Gilly asked.
Ross shrugged, his gaze moving around the oddly empty great hall. The great hall at MacKay was rarely empty. There was always someone coming or going and he would have expected that to be the case here too, so the complete absence of people was a bit curious.
