Page 4 of Harrowing Hall
Oh, how curious. “Elsewhere?”
“Aye.” Jane peered at the empty space with a touch of sadness before they continued up the stairs and down a candlelit hallway. “Do you frighten easily, Maude?”
“Heavens, no.” Not that she had ever been around anything all that frightening. “Why?”
Jane paused and glanced back at a closed door they would have gone through had they turned right at the top of the stairs. “Because you have stumbled upon a verra haunted castle, I am afraid.” She leaned in a little closer, spoke softly as though she did not want to be overheard, and pointed at the door in question. “Do you see that door?”
“Yes.” Intrigued, she looked from the door to Jane. “Why do you ask?”
“Because it leads to where the missing painting hangs through All Saints’ Day.” Her tone grew ominous. “Most in these parts refer to it as Harrowing Hall.”
“Oh,my,” she whispered, more enthralled by the moment. “That is quite the name.” She glanced from the door to Jane again. “Why so daunting a title? And why hang the picture there at this time of year?”
She could not help but notice Harrowing Hall seemed to go in the direction of the woman she had seen in the window. Surely there was another way to get there. She would have to ask, for she did so love a good mystery.
“Well, you see,” Jane steered her down the hall in the opposite direction again, “it all began over three hundred years ago when an Englishwoman such as yourself married into the clan. Married our laird at the time, no less. Quite the feat considering the unrest between our countries.” She shook her head grimly. “Even worse, she came into the marriage with a bastard English bairn. But alas,” Jane looked at her with smug pride, “the MacLauchlin she married was a good man because he loved the lad as if he were his own.”
Thank goodness. “That was very generous of him.”
“Indeed.” Jane nodded. “Suffice it to say, like many during those times, her son and husband eventually rode off to battle together.” She shook her head and sighed. “Yet only her beloved husband returned because her only living child was no more, his body lost to the ravages of war.”
“How awful.” A strange sort of heaviness settled in her chest. “She must have been devastated.”
“No doubt she was.” Jane spoke softly as if respecting the dead. “In fact, it is told she lost her mind after that and stood at the window overlooking the courtyard day after day, waiting for him to return. If that were not enough, she became so convinced he would come back that she even moved all her belongings to Harrowing Hall.” She shook her head. “And never returned to her marital bed. How could she when she blamed her husband for not protecting their son better?”
Maude rounded her eyes. “Surely not?”
“I am afraid so.” Jane opened the door to a spacious, utterly lovely room. “I hope this suits you while you are here.”
As though Jane were the lady of the house. Or castle as it were.
“How stunning,” Maude praised. It really was, too. From the stately windows with fine curtains to the beautiful furnishings. “Far too lavish for me.”
“Yet it is the room Lord MacLauchlin wanted you to have,” Jane said dubiously. “Despite…well…”
“Well, what?”
“Thiswasthe chamber of the Englishwoman of whom I just spoke.” Jane bit the corner of her lip. “And at such a time.” Concerned, she rested a hand on Maude’s arm. “I do so hope it is as you say, and you do not frighten easily.”
What was she going on about?
“Do tell.” Maude tilted her head in question. “What do you mean about it being such a time? And again, tell me about the missing picture.”
“The picture is of the mourning English lass.” Jane glanced over her shoulder as though she thought the woman were right there. “Every year, it is put in Harrowing Hall leading up to All Saints’ Eve so she can keep watch for her son, forever convinced, even in death, that he will come home someday.” Her wary gaze returned to Maude. “It is said she comes at this time of year, most pointedly on All Saints’ Eve when the veil between the worlds is thinnest and calls out to him.”
When she hesitated as though she should not go on, Maude urged her to continue.
“I am not sure I should.” Jane took a dainty sip of her claret and sighed, doing her very best to appear reluctant. “Yet I feel you have the right to know.”
Dare say? “Know what?”
“Well…just…it isthischamber, is all.” Jane swallowed hard. “I am surprised my lord put you here as the Englishwoman is said to return to this room as well. Especially on All Saints’ Eve.” She flinched. “And as you might imagine, she has a way of frightening people off. Seen clearly when dear miss,” she tapped her temple, “oh, I do forget her name, but she was a stunning lass Lord MacLauchlin had his sights set on some years ago before….”
Jane need not finish her sentence.
“The Englishwoman scared her away?” Maude concluded. She bit back amusement as this was a serious subject. It was also clear a ghost was not trying to scare her off but perhaps a certain Scotswoman with her sights set on Blake.
Not to say she did not remain curious because she had seen a woman in older clothing standing in that window, and Blake had been rather obtuse about it.
