Saidh's eyebrows both rose up almost into her hairline at this. She wasn't used to Fenella requesting permission for anything. Actually, her cousin almost seemed a stranger in that moment; quiet, polite and with an air of resignation that didn't really suit her.
"Sit," Saidh said simply and shifted a bit away when Fenella perched on the edge of the bed beside her. She waited a moment, but when Fenella didn't speak, asked, "What are ye doing in here?"
"I was in the hall when Greer picked ye up and started to carry ye upstairs. I ducked in here, thinking he'd take ye to the master chamber. I had the door cracked. I was going to slip back to me room as soon as he took ye in there, but instead he brought ye this way and--" She grimaced. "I jest panicked. First I ducked down on the other side o' the bed, then I scooted under it just ere he brought ye in."
Fenella shook her head and then peered down and laced her fingers together. She stared at them briefly before raising her head and saying, "I am sorry Alpin got hurt." Her gaze flickered to Saidh's forehead and she frowned and added, "And that ye did as well."
Saidh nodded solemnly. "Thank ye."
"I did no' do it," Fenella added firmly, meeting her gaze. "I heard ye all talking at the tables below. Me maid told me what happened, about the stones falling on ye and Alpin," she explained. "That's why I was in the hall. I was going to go below and see that ye were all right, but when I got to the top o' the stairs I saw that Lady MacDonnell was there and I . . ." She shook her head. "I stopped to wait fer her to leave, and I listened to ye all talking."
She lowered her gaze to her fiddling fingers. "I ken that ye all suspect 'twas me who hurt ye and Alpin."
Saidh waited silently, and when she didn't say anything, asked bluntly, "Did ye?"
"Nay," she gasped, turning on her sharply. "I told ye I did no' and 'tis the truth. I swear it." Frowning, she turned her gaze back to her hands again, adding quietly, "I do no' blame ye fer no' believing me, though. As Alick pointed out, four dead husbands in four years is suspicious, and . . ." She met her gaze apologetically as she said, "I ken I was horrible the other day when I threw the applemoyse at ye. I was hurt is all, and mayhap angry. But I really would ne'er hurt ye, Saidh. Ye're the closest thing I ha'e to a friend or e'en family."
Saidh's first reaction was surprise at the claim. That was followed by pity and it must have shown in her expression, because Fenella gave a bitter laugh and lowered her head again.
"Aye. Pitiful is it no'? I ha'e seen ye only three times in me life and we probably ha'e no spent more than a dozen days in each other's company. Yet ye've shown me more kindness and support than me own ma or da and are the closest thing I ha'e to a friend now that Allen is dead."
Saidh remained silent, unsure how to respond to that. In truth, it really was just pitiful to her. She had grown up secure in the love and support of her parents and brothers, and while her parents were now dead, she still had her brothers, and now Greer, Aunt Tilda and even Alpin.
Realizing she hadn't included Fenella in that list, Saidh glanced to her guiltily and reached out to pat her hand with a sigh. "If ye say ye're no' behind me being shot with an arrow, and the stone merlon dropping on Alpin and me, I believe ye."
Fenella turned her hand over under Saidh's to grasp it almost desperately. Voice unhappy, she said, "It matters little. The others all still believe 'twas me." She gave a short laugh and then said, "And I can no' e'en blame them. Conran was right. How likely is it to lose four husbands in four years to accidents?"
Saidh merely frowned, unsure what to say or even what to believe just then.
"But I really did no' kill them," she said miserably and then frowned. "Well, I did Hammish, but the others . . ." She shook her head helplessly. "How did this happen? How did me life get so twisted and miserable? I had such high hopes as a child. I dreamed o' the day I would marry Shamus and get out from under me parents--"
"Shamus?" Saidh interrupted with surprise.
"Aye," Fenella sighed miserably. "We were betrothed as children, but our families had a falling out and Da refused to honor the betrothal."
"I see," Saidh murmured, turning that over in her mind.
"And then Hammish offered fer me hand," Fenella went on, shuddering with disgust. "E'en I had heard the tales told o' how he treated women and his unnatural tastes, so when Da at first refused, I thought mayhap he cared for me after all. But it turned out he was just negotiating. He'd refused the first offer, fully expecting Hammish would make a second, larger one." Her mouth twisted bitterly. "And sure enough he did. He offered enough to make e'en me greedy sod o' a father crow with delight. He could no hand me o'er quick enough."
Saidh murmured in what she hoped was a sympathetic manner, then cleared her throat and asked, "Fenella, is it possible this Shamus may ha'e been upset at the betrothal no' being honored?"
Fenella shrugged. "I do no' ken. He may ha'e been, but he died shortly after so it matters little and--" She stopped abruptly and then turned to Saidh, clutching her hands desperately. "I did no' kill him, I promise."
Saidh sighed and patted her hand. "The thought did no' cross me mind," she assured her, and that was true, but the news that Shamus was dead was rather disappointing. She'd begun developing a theory in her head that this Shamus had been so distressed by the broken betrothal that he'd set out to kill Fenella's husbands. Either in a determination to have her himself, or in the hopes she would be blamed and punished for it. If the man died shortly after the broken betrothal, though, then that couldn't be the case.
"What am I going to do, Saidh?" Fenella asked sadly.
"About what?" Saidh asked quietly.
"About . . ." she raised her shoulders helplessly and finished, "everything."
She had no answer for that. Fortunately, Fenella didn't appear to expect one and continued miserably, "Me life is such a mess . . . and yer husband and brothers think I am some sort o' madwoman bent on killing ye."
"Well, we shall ha'e to convince him that ye're not," Saidh said pragmatically.
"How?" Fenella demanded.
Saidh considered the matter and then shrugged. "We shall ha'e to make sure ye and I are both under guard. That way, the next time there is an attempt there is no way anyone can accuse ye o' it."
"Ye mean ha'e two o' yer brothers watch me all the time as me maid says they've been doing with ye since ye took the arrow in the chest?" she asked uncertainly.
Saidh nodded.
Fenella considered that a
nd then said thoughtfully, "That might work . . . At least it will if another attempt is made on yer life."
"Aye," Saidh muttered, thinking it was probably somewhat bizarre to almost be hoping that another attempt was made on her life just to prove Fenella wasn't guilty, but she couldn't think of any other way to prove it and she did want it proved. She felt sorry for Fenella. Her cousin obviously hadn't had an easy or happy life to date and she'd like to see her get the chance at that.
"But e'en if that happens, what then?" Fenella asked suddenly.
"What do ye mean?" Saidh asked.
"Well, even once the suspicion is raised, me life will still be a mess. I've no husband or home and little likelihood of ever gaining one," she pointed out. "What man wants to marry a woman who has had four husbands drop dead within the first days or months after marrying her?"
None, Saidh thought, but said, "Why do we no' worry about one problem at a time?"
"But what will I do? Where will I go?" Fenella insisted miserably, tears welling up in her eyes.
Alarmed at the arrival of tears, Saidh pulled her roughly to her chest and patted her back. "Ye ha'e a home here as long as ye like, Fenella."
"Really?" She pulled back to peer at her with wide watery eyes.
"O' course."
"Ye would no' mind ha'ing me here?"
Saidh shrugged. "Why would I mind? I grew up with seven brothers, I am used to having a lot o' people around me. Besides, ye could help me run the servants and--"
"Oh!" Fenella cried and threw herself against Saidh's chest, sobbing loudly.
Saidh stilled and stared down at the top of her head with a sort of horror. She'd been trying to cheer the girl and staunch her tears. Instead, the woman was crying fit to die.
"Thank ye," Fenella moaned through her sobs. "Thank ye, Saidh. I promise ye'll no' regret it. I'll ne'er again raise me voice to ye or give ye a moment's trouble."