Chapter Thirty-Three
Mary insisted Tessa stay with her for several days, sending word to Banaugh so he would not worry. A day later he showed up at Mary’s side door, asking humbly to see “his lass.” Running down the stairs to meet him, Tessa hugged the grizzled old man, causing him to turn various shades of red and sputter, “Now, Tess,” several times.
“I hope things are well at the grog shop,” Tessa said with raised eyebrow.
“Oh, aye, things are well enough, there,” Banaugh replied. “That widow is qui’ a woman, ye know.”
“I like her very much,” Tessa said honestly.
“Do ye, lass?” He seemed ready to say more, but scratched his head and was silent.
“I also think,” Tessa continued, “she is quite taken with you.”
Banaugh let a small smile cross his features, but he shook his head. “I’ve no business at m’ age t’ be takin’ a woman. Besides, I’ve got ye t’ look after.”
Tessa crossed to him again and hugged him even harder than before. “Banaugh, you have done more for me than anyone else could have. But now you have a chance to be happy with this widow of yours, and I believe I have a chance at happiness, too. We shall always be friends, but you must marry Sarah Goode if it pleases you.”
“Ye are certain?” He was torn, it seemed, between duty and desire.
“I can stay here with Mary as long as I like, she says. I will go wandering no more and will need no strong protector, I promise.”
Banaugh looked innocent and sly at once. “I’m thinkin’ that there be one nearby, if ye have need.”
Tessa said nothing. Jeffrey had gone to Brixton, and she had no idea what was next for the two of them.
“I will tell ye this,” the old man said, his eyes narrowing with conviction. “Sarah Goode is qui’ a woman, bu’ she’ll never tak’ th’ place i’ this old heart tha’ is yours, lass, an’ that’s God’s truth.”
Once Tessa reached London, she had sent word to Miriam and Ayla Arbeen that she was safe. At the Mace and Thyme Inn, Banaugh had found a letter for Tessa from them, which he now handed her. She read it aloud so he could hear the news.
Tessa,
We were most happy to hear of your safe return to London and your luck in locating friends there. We have had no further troubling visitors since the night you left. My mother is well and sends her best regards. She says you will understand that she is, under present circumstances, considering a return to her homeland. I will accompany her on the journey in the spring and then return to Arbeen, for I am to be married at the new year to a man I believe you can identify. I will only say that, as well as being affianced, I have become quite expert with a bow over the last few weeks.
Tessa stopped reading briefly to explain the courtship of Hamish to Banaugh.
“Why is it ye can gie others all sorts o’ advice i’ matters o’ th’ heart bu’ canna tell yer own man hae much ye love him?” Banaugh asked her. “It seems t’ me—”
“Never mind, Banaugh,” Tessa reproved teasingly. “I am waiting for the right moment, and I hope it will come soon.” She returned to reading.
We hope when you return to Scotland, as I am sure you will someday, that you stop to visit. We would be most glad of your company.
Your friend, Ayla Arbeen.
“A fine lassie, i’ spite o’ her bein’ ferrin,” Banaugh announced. “It took courage t’ do wha’ she did tha’ night, an’ we are beholding t’ her and her mother.” Tessa nodded agreement, promising herself if she did return to Scotland, Arbeen would be one of the places she would be sure to visit.
A few days later a messenger arrived from Brixton Manor with a packet for Tessa. Her heart leapt, but the feminine handwriting on the outside told her it was not from Jeffrey. Still, she was pleased when she opened it to find a letter from Auntie Madeline, and within that, a note from her sister Meg. She read the note first:
My dear sister,
I have asked Father Madoc to write this for me, and I will send it by messenger to the Brixtons of York whom you spoke of in hopes they will know where to find you. We are all well, and no harm has come to us under the rule of King Malcolm. He asked only that Donwald, representing the clan macFindlaech, swear fealty to him on Moot Hill at Scone, bringing soil from our land-hold in his boot heel, as is customary. That done, we are free to live as we wish. The castle at Inverness has been granted to one of Malcolm’s clan, I am told.
I hope you have found what you sought when last we met, and you will someday return to your home in the Highlands, to visit us or to live, whichever pleases you.
With love, Meg
Below her name was a mark such as Kenneth macFindlaech had used to identify his sheep, which made Tessa miss her home vividly for a moment. Scotland was a beautiful land, and again she promised herself she would return there someday.
The letter from Auntie Madeline was longer, and the hand that wrote it a bit shaky. Still, the old lady’s warmth came through as she wrote:
Dear, dear Tessa,
Jeffrey has told me of your adventures since you left Brixton, and I marvel at what you have done. He tries to stand on dignity, but his pride in your courage and determination shows in his every word. I, too, am proud of you, although distressed at Aidan’s treatment of you. He ever resented his brothers, but now it is over. May God have mercy on him. Cecilia is here with me now, the last of my girls, and she will soon marry. Alice is very happy with her young man, and I believe you know Mary’s little secret. I am so thankful that all of them had their chance, and it was largely due to you, Tessa. You were the impetus that nudged dear Eleanor into action, and because of it, all the Brixton girls benefitted. I only wish she were here to see them well matched, each according to her own choice.
Ethelbert visited on his way back to the abbey. What a surprise to hear that you and he met. He will spend some time in renewal and then be on his way. Healing is a gift he has discovered in himself, and so he is content with his choice in life.
Jeffrey has been busy setting things to rights on the manor. He insists on making amends for the girls not having a proper dowry settled on them, and he has made a large gift to Ethelbert’s abbey as well. The house is being repaired, and the sound of hammers and saws dins at one’s ears from morning to night. I believe he looks forward to something, but I cannot say what, it not being my affair.
Please, come to see an old woman when you can.
Yours with affection, Madeline Brixton
Tessa sat back in the window seat of the solar, the two pages clutched in her hand. She had been so lucky in her life to have around her warm, caring women: her sister Meg, the beautiful Eleanor and the kind Auntie Madeline, and Miriam and Ayla Arbeen. Women were judged in the world by their ability to capture a husband, and yet these women were very different. Meg had married for love and found happiness, Eleanor had married for security and been required to make her own happiness, and Auntie had made a life for herself without marriage and seemed happy with that. Miriam had been happy despite society’s disapproval of her marriage, and Ayla would make herself content with Hamish, having known no other eligible man at all. Each one of them was loving and loved, no matter what her marital situation. Society was wrong. It was not marriage that showed a woman’s worth, but the woman herself.
The weird sisters danced again through Tessa’s memory. They had been correct in their predictions, she knew not how. She had come to England, she had married two men who never possessed her, and the man she loved had forgotten her name. Had they been trying to trick her, help her, or were they merely creatures who spoke the words given to them with no intent one way or the other? Tessa decided the answer probably was the last. They had not meant to destroy her or her uncle. The information given was just that: information. How one acted upon the information made all the difference. If Macbeth had chosen to perform evil deeds while trying to make their prophecies come true, that had been his mistake. For men as well, happiness came from within. Sh
e hoped God would forgive him for not listening to his own heart.
Over the next week the story of Aidan’s association with Ian Hawick became public. Unfortunately, Hawick had disappeared without a trace. By morning two dead bodies, the boat, and marks in the mud of the bank were all that was left to tell the tale. Hawick had melted into the darkness. “Best for him,” Mary commented, “and for you, too, Tessa. You need never see them again.”