“I’m sure he thought Conran would tell me what had happened when he came to find me,” Aunt Tilda said quietly, defending the man. She then defended Conran as well, saying, “And Conran probably thought it was no’ his place. ’Twas jest an unfortunate set o’ circumstances.”
Saidh didn’t comment to that. She suspected Greer had known exactly what he was doing bringing Aunt Tilda in to see Fenella without warning her first, although she couldn’t for the life of her understand why he’d felt he had to do it. Or perhaps she could, Saidh acknowledged. She was sure there were few people who knew about the secret passages. It was probably only supposed to be family as it was at Buchanan. Obviously that wasn’t the case, though. Someone outside the family had to know, because she hadn’t killed Fenella, and neither could Greer and Alpin have done it. That had left only Aunt Tilda for Greer to consider. Saidh hoped this episode had cleared the woman of suspicion in his mind.
“Oh, Helen,” Aunt Tilda breathed in relief as the woman rushed into the room.
“M’lady,” the maid said with dismay, hurrying to her side. “What happened? Are ye all right?”
“She had a shock and fainted,” Rory explained quietly.
“Aye, but I’m fine now,” Aunt Tilda said firmly, struggling to sit up. “And I should get up. We need to tend to Fenella.”
Helen straightened with surprise, eyes wide. “Lady Fenella? Is she ill?”
“She’s dead,” Aunt Tilda announced bluntly as she heaved herself upright. “And we’ll need to see to her body.”
“Ye’re in no shape to tend to anything jest now,” Saidh said firmly, urging her to lie back down. “Ye should rest. I shall worry about Fenella.”
“But—” Aunt Tilda began, only to heave a sigh and settle back against her pillows. “Aye. Mayhap I should. I am weary.” Distress crossing her features, she added fretfully, “Though I do no’ ken how I’ll sleep after seeing Fenella like that.”
“I’ll fix ye a tincture to help ye sleep,” Helen said at once and bustled over to a chest that sat on a table against the wall. Opening it, she began to retrieve various weeds and medicinals.
“Oh dear,” Aunt Tilda breathed, drawing Saidh’s attention back in time to see the woman grimace with distaste and mutter, “A tincture . . . vile things.”
Saidh smiled sympathetically at her expression. “If it helps ye sleep, ’twill be worth the unpleasant taste.”
“I suppose.” Aunt Tilda sighed, and then patted her fingers. “Helen has me in hand. There is no need fer ye to stay with me.” She frowned and added, “Yer looking a bit peaked yerself, dear. Mayhap Helen should make a tincture fer you, as well. I really do no’ think ye should be up running about like this. Ye’re still recovering from that arrow.”
“I am fine,” Saidh assured her, but it was a lie. She felt as if she’d run halfway across Scotland. In truth, she didn’t know how she’d run up the stairs when Fenella’s maid had screamed. Just going down them had wearied her. She supposed that scream and then seeing Fenella’s body had raised her blood, giving her a temporary boost. But that boost was fading now, leaving her feeling weak and a little shaky.
“She’s right. Ye’ve lost all yer color,” Rory said quietly, concern on his face. “Ye should be abed too. Besides, I’m sure Lady MacDonnell can no’ like her bedchamber being invaded by so many men.”
“Oh, aye,” Saidh said with realization. She was used to having her brothers around, but supposed it would be unsettling for the poor woman to have the men in her bedchamber. Forcing a smile for Aunt Tilda, Saidh got shakily to her feet saying, “I’ll take me brothers away and leave ye to rest.”
“Verra well then,” Aunt Tilda murmured, then glanced to the men and said, “Make sure she rests. She does no’ look well at all.”
Saidh heard her brothers rumble their agreement to the suggestion as they followed her to the door. But she remained silent, her attention on sucking in deep breaths to try to ward off the weakness now dropping around her like a large cape.
“She’s right, ye need rest,” Rory said quietly once they were out of the room and Dougall had pulled the door closed behind them. “Ye’re recovering from a mighty injury, Saidh, and all this rushing about can no’ be good fer ye. Besides, I want to check yer wound and apply more salve.”
“Soon,” Saidh murmured, slowing as she saw Bowie following Alick off the stairs and into the room where Fenella was. Frowning, she asked, “Why Bowie?”
“He is the only one who kenned about the passages besides ye, Greer, Alpin and Lady MacDonnell,” Rory answered quietly. “I imagine they want to see his reaction on viewing her body, just as they did Lady MacDonnell.”
Saidh frowned at this news and moved a little more quickly up the hall, but only a little. It was a long damned hall and Lady MacDonnell’s room was nearly at the end of it. It seemed to take forever for her to reach the bedchamber door. When she did, she found the door open. Bowie had not closed it as he entered. She peered in curiously to see Bowie staring down at Fenella, shock still present on his face. Greer, Aulay, Alick, Conran and Niels all surrounded him.
“And no one entered the room?” Bowie asked slowly.
“Nay. No’ from the hall,” Greer answered.
“Then they must ha’e used the passage,” Bowie said at once, turning wide eyes to Greer.
“Aye, ’tis what we’re thinking,” Greer agreed grimly.
When Bowie frowned and turned his gaze back to Fenella, Greer added, “Aulay informs me it is usually only family who ken about passages in castles. Yet ye were the one to show it to me. Why would Allen ha’e showed it to ye?”
Bowie glanced to him with surprise, opened his mouth to respond, then paused and closed it again, his gaze turning wary.
“Well?” Greer prompted when the man remained silent.
“I think ye’d get more answers did ye ha’e me brothers leave,” Saidh said quietly, moving into the room now.
All of the men turned to peer at her then, and all of them were scowling at her appearance, except for Bowie and Greer. Bowie just looked more wary. Greer, however, looked relieved, though she wasn’t sure why.