Page 40 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
Ailsa held up her hand. “Let me speak to her first,” she told him. “She has been my friend for years, and there may be a simple explanation for all this.”
“If there is, I would love to hear it.” Her father’s voice was grim. “As soon as you have spoken to her, come straight back to me.”
“I will,” Ailsa promised. “But Da, if she is involved in this somehow what will you do to her?” Her voice was fearful.
“Let us see what happens,” the Laird answered. “We cannot make judgements before we have all the facts. That would indeed be unfair, and I consider myself a fair man.”
Ailsa ascended the stairs to Molly’s room with a heavy lump of lead sitting in her stomach. It was joined to her own through a connecting door, but since the door was usually closed but unlocked, she gave only a brief knock and entered. She rarely went into Molly’s chamber, since hers was more comfortable, and the two women spent most of their time together in Ailsa’s room.
Molly was nowhere to be seen, and Ailsa breathed a sigh of relief. Now she would have a chance to look around without being seen.
As she moved inside and closed the door behind her, Ailsa was surprised by the scent of a sweet, flowery perfume which pervaded the air. It was familiar to her since she had used the same fragrance herself, but she knew that it was imported from France and consequently incredibly expensive. She wondered how Molly had been able to afford it. Granted, she received a generous allowance from the McBain coffers, but something like this was simply out of her reach.
Perhaps she received it as a gift,Ailsa thought,but who does she know who could afford such a thing?’
Ailsa moved further into the room and was about to sit in an armchair when she noticed something gleaming on the top of Molly’s vanity table. When she moved over to pick it up, she gave a gasp of astonishment. It was a gold hairbrush, the back of which was studded with tiny pearls and amethysts. The lower surface from which the bristles emerged was fashioned from ivory, and as she turned it over, Ailsa could see its quality and that of the workmanship that had gone into it. It was truly a piece of art and must have been worth a small fortune.
She replaced the brush, and her gaze swept around the room, coming to rest on a pair of polished black leather boots that were half-hidden under the bed. She picked them up and examined them, once more amazed by their value and craftsmanship. They were made of exquisitely tooled leather, intricately cut and stitched with loving attention to detail. The laces were fashioned from plaited silk, and Ailsa knew that none of the shoemakers in Balmuir or Mulrigg would have been able to produce such beautiful products.
Something strange is happening here,she thought. She was both puzzled and uneasy. Could Molly have stolen these? But from where? And from whom? She never left the castle without Ailsa, and there was no one in the area who could possibly have owned footwear like this.
The finding of the shoes made Ailsa even more curious, and more suspicious. She cast another sweeping glance around the room, and something else caught her eye. Almost hidden underneath the curtain drapes was a small piece of crumpled paper, which Ailsa smoothed out to read its contents.
There was only one phrase on it, repeated over and over again.My dearest Ailsa,it said. The same one had been written no less than fifteen times, but the script changed slightly bit by bit until it became identical to the one in John’s letter to her. It was not Molly’s handwriting; Ailsa was extremely familiar with that. It was either a copy or someone had been practising the lettering over and over again in order to achieve the perfect result.
For a long moment, Ailsa looked at the document, horrified. Surely this could not be Molly’s work? And yet, if it was not, then why else was it here? She shook her head.There has to be another explanation,she told herself.
She sat down and read it again and again, somehow hoping that she could glean some information from it, but the three words told her nothing. Now Ailsa was deeply suspicious, but she could not in her heart of hearts believe that Molly had turned against her. They had been friends since they were children; they had been tutored together, and she and Molly had shared many adventures together, often dangerous ones. As well as that, Katie loved Molly almost as much as she loved Ailsa. She was part of the family - she could not have betrayed them.
“This cannot be happening,” Ailsa said aloud, then she clamped her hand over her mouth. No one must know she was here—especially not Molly.
She stood up, squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath. The last time she had felt so scared was when she had stood outside the door of the birthing room waiting for Katie to be born. However, that had been a long time ago, and much water had passed under the bridge since then.
17
Ailsa knew that Molly’s room would have to be searched very thoroughly, but the only person she could trust to help her do it was her father, and he was busy, so she prepared to do the job herself. She had no idea when Molly would be back, so she knew she had to make quick work of it. No matter what she found, she had no time to sit and be amazed by it and slow herself down. Time was of the essence.
Neither could she afford to become angry, so she set about the task methodically, starting with Molly’s chest of drawers. The first thing of value that she found was some extremely expensive cologne. It was not the same kind that she could smell wafting around the room, but it was an equally exotic and costly variety, and it was contained in a glittering crystal bottle which was very valuable in its own right. Ailsa was tempted to stare at it for a long time, but she could not afford the time, so she set it back in its original place and moved on.
Having inspected the rest of the drawers, in which she found nothing out of the ordinary, Ailsa moved on to the armoire. She knew every one of Molly’s dresses since they often used the same seamstress to sew for both of them.
She was rather shocked, therefore, to see a beautiful cornflower-blue satin creation hanging right at the back of her wardrobe. Ailsa had never set eyes on this garment before, because she knew she would have remembered it. It was studded at the neckline with small semi-precious stones that looked like garnets, and Ailsa was sure that if she looked around a little more she would find matching items of jewellery like pendants and bracelets.
She moved onto the floor of the armoire and found a pile of silk underwear trimmed with Italian and Flemish lace. She could tell by the smell and feel of it that it was the best quality fabric that could be found anywhere. For the hundredth time, she wondered where all the fine clothes had come from.
That was when it occurred to her to have a good look under the bed, and she spied the finely carved wooden box that had been hidden there pushed right up against the wall at the head end. The space was tight, but at last, Ailsa managed to shove her arm in and slide it towards her. By this time she was prepared for necklaces, bracelets, brooches, and earrings, but there was no jewellery at all in the box.
It was full of letters, and they were all addressed to Molly. That was not what shocked Ailsa, however; that was caused by the signature, which belonged to Larry Ormond. It was a great flourish, like the ones she had received in her letter, although the handwriting was not the same.
Driven by curiosity, Ailsa opened the letter to read it, and her nostrils were assailed by the scent she had smelled when she first entered the room. She put her nose to the paper and inhaled it; it was so strong that it almost made her choke. She began to read the letter.
My dear Molly,it read.I am sending you this special eau de parfum with all my love. One of the merchants I know in Edinburgh brought this back from France at my request since I knew you would love it. I know you cannot wear it around your chamber at Mulrigg, so please save it for the special times when we are together. I am longing to see you again.
So far our plan is going well. I am very pleased that my cousin, Ramsay, has been imprisoned, but amazed that he is so stupid he practically threw himself into the McBains’ arms. Anyway, that is neither here nor there.
I have no time to write more now, my love, but rest assured that I think of you every moment of every day, and I hope it will not be long until we are together forever.
All my love, Larry.
