“Ye may be right, but, honestly, Meriel has always managed to create problems. Ye only witnessed the most recent one.”
“Maybe she just needs a strong woman to help guide her a bit. Ye said her mother was your dear friend. Would ye consider doing it for her?”
Mae sighed and shook her head in resignation. “It might be a mistake, but aye, I’ll take her on. Her mother would have wanted it. Mind ye, if she doesn’t put her full effort into it, I won’t keep her.”
“I wouldn’t expect ye to, but I think she may surprise ye.”
~ * ~
The afternoon light was fading as Mairead made her way back to the keep. Clouds were gathering, and it was growing colder. She already missed Tadhg, and she didn’t look forward to spending the evening alone. Chilled by the time she returned to the keep, she retreated to the warmth of her solar for the first time in weeks, hoping to take some solace from her music.
Her harp stood like an old friend waiting for her by the hearth. She lit several candles, sat by the harp, pulling it toward her to rest it on her shoulder. She hoped to lose herself in its delicate melodies. As she began to tune the strings, the candlelight illuminated the sound board into which the strings were anchored. There was a dark mark, or indentation of some kind, on the sounding board. Standing the harp upright again, she knelt beside it with a candle to inspect it more closely. It looked as if the edge had been struck by something hard, creating a dent and a small crack along the grain of the wood. The flaw wasn’t terrible—the instrument could still be played. Perhaps one of the craftsmen at Cnocreidh could repair the surface damage. Still, Mairead couldn’t understand what would have caused this damage to the harp. It was as if someone had struck it with something deliberately.
As she was checking the harp over to make sure there was no other damage, the sounds of muffled crying came from the hall, followed immediately by a nearby door slamming. Someone was clearly upset. She went through the antechamber and stepped into the hall trying to determine the source of the sounds. To her surprise, the sound came from Flan’s room. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She entered anyway to find her brother sobbing face down on his bed.
She rushed to him and knelt next the bed. “Oh Flan, what is wrong, why are ye crying?”
“I’m sorry, Mairead, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed.
“Flan, what has happened?”
“Mairead, we don’t belong here. I’m so sorry. Can we just go home? Please, Mairead?”
“I have never seen ye like this. Calm down now and tell me what has ye so upset.”
“Mairead, the Mathesons are hateful. I can take it if I have to, but they say ugly things about ye behind your back and ye shouldn’t have to stay here among them.”
“Flan, don’t say that. Maybe a few of them—”
“No, Mairead, ye don’t understand.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
When he was able to stop crying, he sat up. Mairead moved to sit beside him on the bed. His lip was swollen, and his face bruised. “Flan, what’s this? Were ye fighting?”
“Aye.” He wiped the tears from his face with the heels of his hands.
“Flan, why?”
“I was helping Heck in the stable because the laird is away. Some of the older lads came in and were saying mean things. They said there were more deserving Matheson lads who should have been the laird’s squire and then they said there were better Matheson lasses who should have been the laird’s wife. I tried to ignore them and just do my work. But then Tully said terrible things about ye just because of the story about ye.”
“What story, Flan?”
“Ye know. The night when—well, when—ye know, when Meriel said ye had no clothes on. Well, I got mad. I knocked Tully to the ground and hit him, but the others pulled me off and held me while Tully hit me.”
“Oh, Flan, ye were fighting because of me? Are ye hurt?”
“Not too much. Heck stopped them before Tully got more than a punch or two in. They said they were just teaching me a lesson but Heck asked them why it took three braw young warriors to teach a sapling squire a lesson. And he told them to get out. Mairead, I’m sorry I ever asked Laird Matheson to marry ye. This is all my fault.”
“Don’t say such a thing, Flan. I’m sorry ye are hurting, pet, but I am not sorry I married Laird Matheson. He is a good husband, and it will just take time to get to know the rest of the Mathesons better. I won’t lie to ye, it hasn’t been easy for me, either. But all of the Mathesons are not unkind.”
“A lot of them are.” Flan wore a sullen expression.