Page 41 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
Ailsa gasped. This could not be true; it must be some kind of nightmare. It had to be. She knew she should not read any more of the letters, but as if driven by some inner compulsion she picked up another one and began to read. She realised that this had been written earlier than the first, and it outlined the plan for the two letters and the meeting between John and herself.
Molly, how could you?she whispered.You of all people? We grew up together. You know all my secrets.
However, as she sat on the floor thinking back to their times together, she realised how little she really knew about Molly. Ailsa had always thought of Molly as another sister, but now, as she reflected on all the years they had lived together she recognised that she knew little about her erstwhile friend at all.
Molly had always encouraged Ailsa to talk about herself; however, when Ailsa asked her former companion anything about herself, Molly would always change the subject or divert it back to Ailsa.
She had little idea what Molly was like inside since her deepest emotions had been hidden for so long. On the surface, she was friendly and approachable, the same Molly she always had been, but it was only now that Ailsa had begun to see what had been hidden before.
Now she no longer wanted to leave before she saw Molly. She wanted to face the woman in whom all her trust had been placed, and who had utterly betrayed her. She was so furious she wanted to spit in Molly’s face. Now that she knew the truth, she could see the telltale signs that she had missed. There were the smiles Ailsa had seen her give Larry from time to time; she remembered how she had teased Molly about him a few years back when they were both in their teens. He had even winked at her on occasion, although Molly had never returned the teasing gesture.
“I think Larry has taken a shine to you,” Ailsa had said, smirking.
“Even if I believed you,” Molly was firm. “I am not interested. Come, your father said he had some new Spanish wine. I have heard so much about it that I’m longing for a taste.”
Molly, having successfully diverted Ailsa’s attention, had danced with many young men that evening, and so had Ailsa. However, Molly had attracted no attention, whereas all the young eligible men had flocked to Ailsa like bees to a honeypot. Yet she had shown little reaction; it would happen many times more in the coming years. She knew what they wanted; they all had their eyes on her fortune rather than her.
Now, Ailsa picked up the pile of letters again and began to read through them, becoming more and more furious every second. When she had finished with each one, she put them all in a pile on the carpet beside her, and after a while, she realised that the stack was about two inches high.
There were at least twenty letters, and together they told a story of treachery and betrayal. Ailsa put one of them in her pocket to show her father, because they spoke of a plan that had not been put into action yet.
That was when Molly arrived. She opened the door from the corridor outside, closed it behind her, then froze when she saw Ailsa. Molly’s glance fell on the letters in Ailsa’s hands, and she looked up into her eyes, her own blazing with anger.
“What are you doing here?” she growled. “Give me those letters. They are private and you have no right to read them!” She lunged for them, but Ailsa snatched them out of the way just in time.
“I have every right,” Ailsa replied menacingly, getting to her feet and advancing towards Molly. She waved the bundle of letters in the air. “You are plotting to overthrow my family!”
Molly advanced into the room and stopped a few yards in front of Ailsa. “Well, you ruined mine,” she growled. “Why should I not do the same to you? Why should your family prosper and not mine? Why is my father in jail?” Her blue eyes, usually so bright and clear, had darkened with anger as she glared at Ailsa.
“Your father is in jail because he is not fit to be around decent people!” Ailsa replied furiously. “He tried to find information that would have put my father’s life in danger, as well as losing us all our wealth. If my father was the kind of mean Laird who treats his tenants like dirt then I might understand it, even if I did not excuse it, but he is not.
Your father simply wanted to undermine him since he wanted to make money because he lost all his own in gambling dens. Are you not ashamed of him? Our home would have been overrun by enemies and the peace we have been working so hard to achieve would have been impossible. Even as we speak, it may already be too late to save it, and a perfectly innocent man will die for a crime he did not commit.”
Ailsa stuffed the rest of the letters back into her pocket and down the front of her dress where Molly could not reach them. “I thought of you as my sister,” she went on. “I trusted you, and I told you all my deepest secrets, but you never cared about me at all, did you, Molly? Now that I think back on all our times together, I was always the one who shared my thoughts and feelings, but you never did, did you? You always let me talk about myself and my concerns, but you never let me into your own thoughts or feelings.
Why did I not see it until now? You always hated me, did you not?” Ailsa paused as she regarded Molly in disbelief. It was so obvious now; Molly had never really been the kind of friend she could rely on for help or advice. She had never really made herself agreeable to Ailsa’s other friends, always sitting quietly and only speaking when she was spoken to. In fact, on those occasions, she had looked distinctly bored.
“No, Ailsa,” Molly shook her head. “I never hated you, and I was glad your father gave me a roof over my head in time of need,” she answered, “but do not expect me to express constant gratitude. Your father is still the man who imprisoned my father, after all. I wanted you to be able to take control of your own life, and marry a man you could respect.”
She spread her hands and looked deeply into Ailsa’s eyes. “I may not be a Laird’s daughter, but I was born into a wealthy family and my expectations were that I should marry a man of quality with some wealth. He should be someone who could keep me in the style to which I was accustomed, but that is never going to happen, because I no longer have a fortune, my father is in prison, and I am reliant on the goodwill of someone else. Since I moved into Mulrigg Castle and became one of your household, I have always felt disrespected. Somehow I am seen as less of a person because of my circumstances.”
Ailsa was still furious. “Please do not insult my intelligence by saying that you did this for me,” she said, her voice throbbing with anger. “I was quite willing to do as my father and my family wished me to do, and in time I am sure that I would have grown to respect or even love John Ormond. But now that I have read these,” she took one of the letters from her pocket and waved it in the air, “it seemed that you had other plans for me—for us. Tell me, what was Larry’s plan? Was he going to mount a surprise attack? A siege? Or did he think he might have the chance to kidnap me and hold me hostage?”
Molly’s gaze dropped to the floor and she began to twist her hands in front of herself nervously. “He never shared his plans with me,” she replied. “Because he thought I might let something slip, or perhaps he did not trust me.”
Ailsa frowned. “Look at me, Molly,” she ordered.
Molly raised her gaze to Ailsa’s and she was surprised to see how much uncertainty there was in her expression.
“Do you love Larry Ormond?” Ailsa asked.
“He is a good man,” Molly answered, her gaze sliding away from Ailsa’s.
“That is not what I asked,” Ailsa persisted. “Are you in love with him?”
Molly put a hand over her face before she spoke. “I was always led to believe that I would marry someone who was rich and respected,” she replied at last. “With Larry, I can be the person I always wanted to be. I will not have to answer to anyone else.”
“But do you love him?” Ailsa simply would not give up.
