"Ah, dear." Gillyanne sighed and patted Fraser on the shoulder. "Ye couldnae stop the bleeding."
"Nay," replied Fraser. "We tried everything, worked all through the night. We would think it had stopped only to have it begin all over again. Twas a surprise in some ways for she was but two months along, mayhap e'en less, and she didnae suffer much when she miscarried the bairn. Ah, weel, sad to say, Anabelle died unrepentant, blaming everyone save herself as had e'er been her way. She e'en lost the chance for absolution and last rites for, when Father Goudie was summoned, she cursed him and wouldnae let him do it. Some of the things she screamed at the mon were appalling. I was shamed for her, although Father Goudie didnae look as shocked as I would have expected him to be."
"He is a Goudie. They are a rough lot. I doubt much would shock him e'en though he oftimes displays a surprising naiveté for a Goudie." Gilly looked at Fraser. "She didnae happen to say where she got the potion, did she?"
"Nay, but it wasnae from the laird. Truth is, she cursed him tenfold for nay helping her in her time of need."
"A statement which would imply that he did ken about the bairn," said Ilsa.
"Tis what I thought and remarked upon it, but she said he didnae," Fraser replied. "When I thought o'er her ravings later, trying to make sense of it all, I decided the laird had failed her because he wouldnae let her seduce him back into her bed."
"And thus give her the chance to claim the bairn was his." Ilsa cursed softly and sat on a stool facing the other women. "That was probably what they argued about. Yet, considering how openly Anabelle shamed herself, it makes no sense at all that she would care that she would soon bear a child most kenned couldnae be her husband's get. Unless, of course, she thought she might have a son." Ilsa's eyes widened slightly when Gillyanne cursed.
"That was probably her game," Gillyanne said. "She had lost her hold upon Diarmot, might e'en have begun to fear he would find a way to set her aside.
But, if she gave him a son, she wouldnae need Diarmot any longer, and could be rid of him. She may have thought she could then rule Clachthrom through the child."
Ilsa thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. "Some mon would have been given the charge of the land and the child."
"As Fraser said, Anabelle was vain. She probably thought she could control that mon as she could nay longer control Diarmot."
It was a sad story, Ilsa mused, and it explained why Diarmot clung so fiercely to his wariness and the bitterness he could not always hide. The shadows in his memory hid the healing she was certain had begun when they had been together a year ago. Added to the scars left by his wife were new ones caused by an unknown enemy. It was not going to be easy to bring back the Diarmot she had known and fallen in love with, not unless his memory returned, Ilsa fought back the urge to just give up and go home.
Worse, when her brothers returned eager to tear Diarmot into tiny pieces, as she knew they would, she was going to have to tell them this whole sordid tale.
Diarmot would be painfully reminded of why he had no faith in women for Ilsa knew she would probably not be lucky enough to keep him out of the way. He would undoubtedly be right there to hear all the details of the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of his late wife. It was enough to make Ilsa want to weep and scream.
In fact, the more Ilsa thought on all she had learned of Lady Anabelle, it was somewhat of a miracle Diarmot had been such a caring lover, had even married her. There must have been something in the air, she thought wryly. She did wonder if she had really known Diarmot at all. It was increasingly obvious that he had told her very little about himself.
"Did ye fear the rumor might hold some truth?" Gillyanne asked. "Ye must ken that Diarmot--"
Ilsa held up her hand to halt Gillyanne's defense of Diarmot. "For one brief moment I wondered. Twas a verra small doubt. And that doubt concerned the death of his wife, for I had already learned enough to ken she was a curse. I couldnae believe he would cause the death of a child, however. Nay, not e'en one barely begun in the womb. Tis just that he isnae the same mon I kenned a year ago, although I now begin to fear I didnae ken him much at all. Tis now clear that he hid a great deal from me."
"Men dinnae like to stir up painful memories. When I was first married to Connor, most of what I learned about him came from others. He was a verra controlled mon who saw near every emotion as a dangerous weakness. He is still verra controlled, but it doesnae trouble me now for I ken that he loves me."
"Aye, that knowledge can give one the strength to deal with many things.