Page 29 of Highlander’s Lust

A Lady Played False

When Jean left her bedchamber bright and early the next morning, she heard voices in the great hall. Before she had time to run downstairs to see who it was, she heard Sorley bid the obviously female visitor to accompany him to the steward’s room. She silently applauded Sorley for his guest; it was time the steward got female companionship of his own.

The woman’s voice had sounded harsh and strident, but when they left the great hall, it seemed as though Sorley had been able to calm the woman down. As Jean walked down the great staircase, she saw the lady guest’s deep purple velvet dress train dragging out of the entrance hall and into the passageway leading toward Sorley’s chambers. She wished Sorley good luck with his garishly clad visitor.

Jean made her way to the morning room, proudly ignoring the servants’ whispers; her hair was still flowing down her back to signify she was a maiden.

After breaking her fast, Jean decided to go and have a look at what books the Brisbane library contained. If her husband did not stop drinking and spending time with his friends and men at arms instead of her, Jean could only guess at how many evenings when she would have to while away the time with reading.

The door connecting the library to the study was ever so slightly ajar, affording Jean the chance to hear anything going on in the next room. Thus it was, after she had spent a delightful hour perusing some of the dusty tomes which lined the Brisbane library shelves, she heard the passage door to the study open and voices fill the room.

They were the voices of her husband, Sorley the steward, and the female guest.

Jean crept closer to the connecting door and listened.

She heard Charlie speak.

“I told ye when I last visited ye, Fiona; I have no interest in continuing our relationship. Me mind will no’ change just because the sun has risen and set a couple dozen times.”

A simpering, arch voice replied, “Sweet light o’ me life, it’s been far longer than that since I last saw ye. Have ye no’ missed me as much as I have missed ye?”

The sound of Laird Brisbane scoffing was heard.

“Pah! Are ye no’ listenin’, woman? I’ll have none o’ ye. Sorley! What the hell were ye thinking allowing this light skirt into the castle? Do ye seek to cause strife ‘tween my sweet wife and me?”

A tinkling false feminine laugh greeted this announcement as the woman chose to inject her opinion into the conversation once more. “If I were no’ so in love wi’ ye, Charlie, I would take yer words at their face value.”

Sorley’s voice was heard. “I suggest ye listen to what the lady is claiming, Charlie. If ye are forsworn, it could go hard on ye.”

Laird Brisbane’s voice bellowed out, “Are ye threatening me in me own house, Sorley?”

Sorley's voice stayed calm. “This lady has proof ye promised her wedlock. If her claim is proven true, ye must put aside yer unconsummated marriage to Miss Macanroy and marry Mistress Crawford instead. Her claim to yer hand takes precedence.”

Jean heard the clinking sound of a whisky decanter being picked up. She put her eye to the crack of the door and watched as Charlie poured himself a drink with a shaking hand.

“If I ever again hear ye call Jeannie ‘Miss Macanroy’ like the wee clipe ye are, Sorley, I will rip the tongue oot of yer head.” He turned around, holding a full glass of whisky in his hand, and said, “Continue with yer tale. I may as well ken all the facts as ye believe them.” Then he raised the glass of whisky to his mouth. For one long moment, he held the drink there, but then suddenly, he dashed the glass to the floor, saying, “I’ve had enough whisky to last me a lifetime! I’ll have nay more of it.”

The room did not give Jean a view of its other two occupants, but she heard their expressions of surprise at Charlie’s action.

Her husband leaned against the desk, a sneer on his face.

“Come along, spit it oot! What is this proof of which ye speak?” he snarled.

The lady seemed to take her courage in her hands and spoke out, “When me husband died, Mister Sorley, Laird Brisbane made me an offer. I accepted. He bought me a ring to pledge our vow. Then his faither died as is so often the case with elderly gentlemen, as I can well attest to! Next thing I ken, I hear his lairdship has gone off and married another lass. As soon as I was able to travel from Inverness, I made me way here to discover the reason for why he so cruelly cast me off and played me false.”

The speech sounded rehearsed, but it had a ring of truth to it all the same. The woman seemed to have her dates and events in order.

Charlie scoffed and then laughed. “Here’s what really happened, Sorley, so don’ be giving any credence to this doxy’s paradiddles. I enjoyed spending time with Mistress Crawford during my occasional visits to Inverness. ‘Twas a mutually beneficial dalliance; the creature likes money, and I am a generous keeper. She was married but still amazingly accommodating to my needs. Then, her husband died, he being a good many years older than Mistress Crawford. And suddenly, she wants me to marry her. I told her nay; the title of Lady Brisbane does no’ go to widows and courtesans. I bought her a parting gift of jewelry—a ring with a precious stone and a pearl necklace—and I have never set eyes on her again ‘til now.”

“Lies!” Mistress Bosworth cried out loudly in a shrill voice. “Have ye nay shame! Do all the many pleasurable nights and long afternoons we spent lying in each other’s arms mean naught to ye? I have proof ye saw me as so much more than a doxy, laird!”

This hysterical statement was still not enough to make Charlie look worried. “Och, awa’ wi’ ye, woman. A few bawbees’ worth o’ jewels is no’ proof.”

Jean saw the purple velvet dress train move closer to Charlie. The woman’s back was to the connecting library door, but it was still possible to see her hands. The woman in the purple dress took his lairdship’s hand and placed it on her waist.

“Here is all the proof I need, Charlie,” the women said, “for I carry yer child—and heir to Brisbane Castle!”

Jean had heard enough. She pulled open the heavy door connecting the two rooms and ran to her husband, crying out, “Charlie, please, tell me it is nae true!”

And then she collapsed onto the floor next to the shattered shards of the whisky glass.