Page 11 of Highlander’s Captive Bride (Troubles of Highland Lasses #4)

11

L ater that same evening, feeling desperately confused by the many different emotions warring inside her, Daisy spent some time in the peace and quiet of the healing room, doing further research into the possible cause of Elodie’s strange sickness.

However, after a while, her thoughts drifted back to the picnic and the pleasant hours spent by the loch with Elodie and Bellamy. It was painful to admit that she had enjoyed his company and forgotten their true connection. She shuddered to imagine what might have happened if Elodie had not awoken and called out to them just at that crucial moment.

What is this power he has over me? How does he make me feel this way? How could I have wanted to kiss him so badly? Again!

Guilt gnawed at her insides, for it felt like a betrayal of everyone she loved, especially Violet, whom Bellamy was keeping her from. Yet, Elodie needed her, too! Daisy felt her heart being torn in two. With grim determination, she thought of Violet and strengthened her resolve to leave Castle Murdoch at Beltane.

But I cannae leave Elodie without finding out what ails her and healing her first. And I have very little time left to do it.

Daisy spent the following evening in Elodie’s chambers, watching as Elodie and Nadia played a spirited game of jacks on the coverlet. As she observed the two girls, Daisy chatted quietly to Poppy, who was doing some ironing, about the child’s condition.

“The lass had such a lovely time at the picnic, Daisy,” the servant told her with a fond glance at her charge. “Being out in the sun had definitely done her some good, but ye ken what I really think?”

“Nay? Tell me,” Daisy replied, curious to know, since Poppy spent more time with Elodie than anyone else.

“Well, I think ’tis the fact her faither is spending more time with her these days. I dinnae ken what’s happened to change his attitude towards her, for he usually made himself scarce, just popping in and out when he chose. It made her heart sore, the wee angel. The bairn didnae feel loved, if ye ken what I mean. Ye ken she thinks the world of him.”

“Aye, she does, all right.” Daisy nodded in agreement, pleased she was not the only one who had noticed the improvement.

“Well, whatever the reason for it, it’s doing her good. Making her feel better about herself, d’ye ken?”

“I’ve noticed it, too, aye,” Daisy said.

Poppy banged the smoothing iron down on a sheet with an uncharacteristic frown as if it were the Laird. “Well, I just hope he carries on like this and disnae just abandon her again and go back to his old ways. ’Tis bad enough, her being so sick without thinking her faither disnae care about her.”

“I hope so, too, Poppy. This afternoon, at the picnic, she managed to eat a few things and drink some milk without any trouble. Have ye noticed any improvement yerself with that, recently?”

“Aye, I have. For the last few days, she has been able to keep most of what she’s eaten and drunk down. She says her tummy disnae feel as sore as before. Do ye think that’s a sign she’s on the mend?” Poppy asked, casting a hopeful glance at Daisy.

“We have to hope so, Poppy, but it’s still early days. We must be cautious. She’s still very weak and may yet have another attack.” Daisy frowned. “I still cannae work out what the problem is, so we still need to monitor her carefully.”

“Hmm. Still, look at her now, playing with Nadia. Thank the Wee Man she has such a good friend to come and keep her company. I dinnae ken what I would have done without Nadia sometimes. She’s a good lass, and she loves the bairn.”

Poppy finished the ironing, and Daisy helped her stow away the clean sheets. Then, they joined the two girls, standing over the bed and watching them play for a few moments.

“I win again!” Elodie cried gleefully, skillfully catching the spiky little metal jacks on the back of her hand, small though it was.

Nadia’s face fell in mock despair. “Ach, ye’re too quick for me, El,” she whined. “I dinnae think I’ll ever beat ye at this game.”

Elodie giggled. “Only Da can beat me,” she confided, a glow of pride on her pale, little face that sent a pang through Daisy’s heart.

“Now, ye two,” Poppy butted in, her hands on her hips. “That’s the last game of the night. ’Tis time to wash up and get into a clean nightie for bedtime, lass,” she told Elodie.

The child scrunched up her nose. “Och, just one more game, Poppy, please!” she begged with big eyes, making them all laugh. “Then, I promise I’ll get ready for bed.”

“All right. Just one. Then ye can have yer milk, and yer faither will be here soon to read ye a story,” the faithful servant said with an indulgent smile.

So, the final game was played, and Elodie won again, much to her amusement. Fragile as she was, she giggled with triumph as Poppy came and helped her out of bed to wash.

While Poppy and Elodie were occupied at the washstand, Nadia smiled at Daisy with mock resignation and shook her head as she collected the jacks in their little cloth bag. “I wish I could say that I let her beat me, but I cannae even claim that,” she told Daisy ruefully. “However many times we play, I’m just too slow.”

“Aye, she’s quick in all she does. ’Tis such a shame she’s laid low,” Daisy replied.

“Aye, I pray every night for the sickness to end,” Nadia said, sounding sad. She got up with the bag of jacks and crossed to the dresser by the hearth.

Daisy looked away, leaning over the bed to straighten the covers and plump the pillows, ready for Elodie’s return, feeling a wave of affection for her young patient.

She heard Nadia open the dresser drawer where the games were kept, then the chink of the jacks as she placed the bag inside, and the drawer clicking shut. Then, she heard a loud hissing sound and quickly turned her head to see what it was.

“Och, the milk’s boiling over!” Nadia suddenly exclaimed, bending over the hearth, a cloth in her hand, rescuing the saucepan Poppy had left to heat above the fire.

“’Tis a good thing ye were there to save it,” Daisy remarked, grimacing as the smell of singed milk permeated the chamber.

“Ach, ’tis very hot,” Nadia said, quickly setting the pan down on the stone hearth away from the fire and waving her hand as if it was burned.

Concerned for her, Daisy asked, “Are ye all right, Nadia? D’ye need some salve for that?”

“Nay, nay, ’tis naething,” Nadia replied, returning to the bedside and taking Poppy’s chair. “I’ll just say good night to Elodie, and then I’m away to me own bed,” she said. “I’m tired.”

“I suppose ye’ve been busy with all the Beltane arrangements and making all the decorations, eh?” Daisy prompted.

“Aye, I wove five garlands yesterday, and me fingers are still sore.” Nadia waggled her fingers and laughed lightly, adding, “And there’s still many more to go before we’ll be ready.”

Daisy laughed as well, but it turned into a yawn. “I must say I’m weary too. ’Tis wearying, trying to puzzle out the nature of Elodie’s condition,” she admitted. “It keeps me from sleeping sometimes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nadia told her with a sympathetic look on her lovely face.

Just then, Poppy and Elodie returned to the bed, with Elodie’s face glowingly clean.

“In ye go, then, hinny,” Poppy said, helping Elodie into bed.

“The milk boiled over a little,” Nadia told the servant. “But it should have cooled down by now.”

Poppy made a face. “I ken. I can smell it,” she replied.

Elodie sat up against the pillows, while Poppy went and stirred honey into the milk before bringing the beaker back for the child to drink.

“Good night, El,” Nadia said, kissing Elodie on the cheek. “I’ll see ye tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

“Thank ye, Nadia. Sweet dreams for yerself,” Elodie replied, smiling sweetly.

“Good night to ye, Daisy, Poppy,” Nadia said, and after the two women bid her the same, she quietly left.

“Well, I’m off to me bed, too,” Daisy said once she had gone.

“Night night, Daisy. Sleep well,” Elodie said, blowing on her hot milk.

“Aye, sleep well, Daisy,” Poppy echoed. “Ye deserve a good night’s rest.”

With that, Daisy left them and made her way to her room, where she undressed, washed, and slid gratefully into bed. She snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes, eager to rest. But a few minutes later, her body tensed when she heard Bellamy’s unmistakable footsteps coming down the hallway.

Did she imagine it, or did they slow a little as they passed her door? She could not be sure. She was only glad to relax when she heard Elodie’s chamber door open and close. And despite the many worries and plans revolving in her mind, she was tired enough to fall into a heavy slumber quite quickly.

It was all the more alarming, therefore, when she was abruptly awakened by the door of her room flying open and the room filling with lamplight. Blinking, she turned over, only to have a panicked, tearful Poppy shake her violently by the shoulder.

“Wake up, Daisy!” the distraught servant cried. “Ye must come right away. It’s the lass. She’s having another attack, and this time, it’s worse than ever. I’ve never seen her so bad. Please, hurry!”

She might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water on Daisy’s head.

Daisy was out of the bed and into her robe in seconds, following Poppy down the hallway to Elodie’s chambers at a run.

Even before they entered the chamber, Daisy could hear the child’s pitiful cries and groans of pain. They tore at her heart as she hurried inside. She was surprised to see the Laird already there. He was on the bed, holding Elodie in his arms. He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes beseeching, his white face striking fear into her heart as she ran over to the bed.

She gasped to see Elodie in agony. She was clenching her teeth, her lips pulled back in a horrifying corpse-like rictus grin, thrashing uncontrollably in her father’s arms. By turns, she curled into a ball and arched her back as if some malignant puppeteer was jerking invisible strings, violently manipulating her limbs and making her small body contort in ways that seemed cruel and unnatural.

Shocked, Daisy rushed to the nightstand and poured a large measure of the medicine she had stored there. Then, she returned to the Laird’s side with the cup in hand.

“Help her, please,” Bellamy begged as he cradled his daughter, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Hold her as tight as ye can without hurting her,” Daisy told him urgently, realizing the little girl was in the throes of a full-blown seizure. A seizure so violent that Daisy feared it could kill her if it was not brought under control quickly.

“I have to try to get this down her throat, so help me by keeping her head up.”

The Laird silently complied as well as he could, though it was nigh on impossible, with the child gripped by the awful attack that was relentlessly wracking her fragile frame.

But somehow, drip by laborious drip, with the Laird keeping a firm grip on his daughter, Daisy managed to get most of the concoction down her throat, though she gagged and retched all the while. Daisy just had to hope it was enough.

“Keep ahold of her and try to keep her head and shoulders upright if ye can, so the medicine goes down and she disnae swallow her tongue,” Daisy instructed Bellamy breathlessly, finally sitting at his side to observe Elodie’s curious movements. “Now, we must wait.”

While all this was happening, Poppy stood at the end of the bed, tears streaming down her face, muttering prayers under her breath.

The next few minutes felt like some of the longest of Daisy’s life as the child continued to writhe in agony. As she observed her, what she found most striking were the strange, jerky movements of her body, the way her back would arch so violently, almost as if her spine would crack, then she would curl into a ball, her limbs thrashing frenziedly.

At the same time, her fingers and toes stuck out stiffly, and her head thrashed convulsively from side to side on the pillow, her teeth bared like a snarling animal.

“’Tis nae working,” Bellamy groaned, desperation in his voice.

“Wait,” was all Daisy could tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder, wanting to lend him some comfort, some hope that his daughter would recover.

After what seemed like an eternity, Elodie’s movements began to slow, and her cries became fewer.

“It’s starting to have an effect,” Daisy said, taking her arm from Bellamy’s shoulder and feeling the child’s forehead with her palm. It was still very hot and clammy, but the horrible snarl was starting to fade, and Elodie’s face began to look more normal.

At last, the jerking stopped altogether.

Finally, the little girl went limp from head to toe, lying completely unconscious in Bellamy’s arms. He clutched her to his chest, sobbing over her. Daisy felt pity for him and the child both.

But she now felt more in control of the situation, for while watching the child’s convulsions, something had clicked in her mind. Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle that had eluded her for so long had come together so clearly that she could hardly believe she had not seen it before.

She now knew what the cause of Elodie’s terrible sickness was.

“It’s over. She’ll sleep now ‘til morning,” she said, hearing Poppy burst into a fresh bout of tears, this time, no doubt, from relief. “Watch her, Poppy, and send for me if she wakes up. I need to speak to the Laird in private.”

“All right,” Poppy choked out, wiping her tear-stained face on her apron and coming to sit in her chair.

Bellamy was silent now, rocking the small body gently as if Elodie was a baby. Daisy once more placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I must speak with ye urgently,” she told him in a hushed tone. “She’ll be all right with Poppy.”

With obvious reluctance, he finally relinquished his hold on Elodie, laying her gently down on the bed and pulling the coverlet tenderly over her. Poppy took the child’s hand, while Daisy grasped his.

“Come.”

Bellamy stood and allowed her to lead him out of the room, his head down, dashing away the tears that had escaped with his free hand. Daisy led him down the hallway and into her moonlit room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

She pulled him gently over to her bed and pushed him down to sit on the edge. He sat silently, his hands hanging limply between his knees, while she went and lit a lamp. Soon, the room filled with a warm glow. Daisy then returned to the bed and sat down beside him.

She gave him a few moments to collect himself, knowing it was hard for him to let her see him so vulnerable. At last, he raised his head and looked at her, his shining eyes glowing dark gray in the lamplight.

“I ken what’s wrong with Elodie,” Daisy said in a firm voice, holding his gaze.

In an instant, he was alert, turning his body towards her and gripping her upper arms. “Ye ken?” he gasped, his eyes wide. “What? What is it? Tell me!” he demanded, shaking her.

“She’s being poisoned,” she stated bluntly.

His mouth fell open, and he stared at her, a look of complete and utter shock on his face. “What?”

“I said, she’s being poisoned,” Daisy repeated, understanding his disbelief. “I ken,” she said, shaking her head. “I can hardly believe it meself.”

“Poisoned? Ye’re sure?”

She nodded emphatically. “Aye. I’m absolutely sure.”

“How? How can ye be so sure?” Bellamy questioned, gripping her arms so tightly that it was beginning to hurt.

Daisy placed her hands over his and gently peeled them away. He did not protest or even appear to notice.

“It was the convulsions. Ye see, I’ve never seen her so bad before, so that’s why I couldnae tell what it was. But tonight, when I saw the way she moved during the seizure—the jerking, the drawing back of the lips—it all fell into place along with the other symptoms,” she explained.

“She must have been given a bigger dose than usual sometime this evening. Someone has been drip-feeding her poison in small amounts these past weeks, putting it in her food and drink over time. This time, they nearly killed her.”

Bellamy sprang up from the bed and began pacing, one balled fist smashing repeatedly into his palm. The expression on his face was truly frightening, even more frightening than when he had slaughtered her escort and stood over her dripping with blood.

“I think it’s belladonna. In tiny amounts, it causes sickness, stomach cramps, fever, and so on. In larger amounts, it causes these types of extreme convulsions and, eventually, if untreated, death,” Daisy continued.

“Belladonna? That’s deadly nightshade, is it nae?” Bellamy asked, briefly pausing in his pacing to look at her.

“Aye. It’s very easily obtained.”

Bellamy resumed his pacing, and a heavy silence reigned for a few minutes.

“But who? And why? Who would do such an evil thing to a wee lass like Elodie? It must be someone close. Someone who has easy access to her. It could be Poppy.”

Daisy was immediately skeptical. “Nay, Bellamy, Poppy’s been with Elodie for years. She is like a big sister to her. I cannae believe she’d ever do anything to hurt her.”

“Hmm,” Bellamy said. “I suppose so.”

“What about Nadia? She’s in and out of Elodie’s chambers all the time. It would be easy for her to tamper with her food and drink,” Daisy suggested, though she found that hard to believe, too.

This time, it was Bellamy who rejected the suggestion. He shook his head vigorously.

“Well, I’m sorry to say it, but she is a McGowan, so ye could say she has a motive,” Daisy pointed out.

“But Nadia’s been livin’ with us for years. If she wanted to hurt Elodie, she could have done it long before now. Nay, it disnae make sense for it to be Nadia,” he said decisively.

“But who else? One of the servants, perhaps?” she suggested, at a loss.

“Aye, it could well be, or someone else within the castle. But whoever it is, ’tis someone who hates me. ’Tis someone who knows what she means to me and that making her suffer is like torture to me… the bastard,” he added, his fists clenching in anger.

“That seems the likeliest explanation,” Daisy agreed, having come to that conclusion herself already.

“When I find out who’s been doing it, I’ll make sure they die slowly by a thousand cuts from me hand. I’ll stick them like a pig and enjoy every second. I’ll make them beg for me to kill them,” Bellamy growled, running his hands distractedly through his hair as he ceased his pacing and sat down on the bed again, dropping his head in his hands.

Daisy had no doubt he would do all of those things, and she completely understood his bloodcurdling threats.

“What kind of creature could be so evil as to deliberately make a wee child go through so much pain, just to settle a score with her faither? It’s wickedness beyond anything I’ve ever heard,” she said. “I can only thank God that I realized it in time. I dinnae ken how much longer I could have staved off the cumulative effects,” she admitted.

Suddenly feeling in need of a strong drink, she got up and crossed the room to a cabinet and pulled out a corked, stone bottle containing the fortifying wine she used for patients in shock. She poured two beakers and brought them back to the bed, then she handed one to Bellamy and sat down next to him.

He immediately downed the wine and held the beaker out for more. Daisy gave him hers and fetched the bottle back, pouring more wine into the empty beaker for herself. The second draught he swallowed more slowly, and she could almost hear the cogs in his mind whirring as he planned what he was going to do about what he had learned.

After a long silence, she got up and turned to face him. “So, now that I’ve diagnosed the cause of the lassie’s illness, it’s time for ye to keep up yer end of the bargain and let me go home,” she told him, buoyed by relief for Elodie and hope for Violet as she contemplated her imminent release.

“Nay,” he said bluntly, shaking his head.