FEAR DEEPENS
The hallway was cold. It seemed to Joanna as if the chill of winter had arrived already, robbing their house of the last of its warmth. She felt cold all over. The wintry weather brought a sense of tension with it, something carried on the eerie howl of the wind in the colonnade outside. It suited the mood of the place, suddenly somber with the news of Lord Brien's death.
Joanna stood just up from the great door of the castle, waiting for her mother to arrive. The morning was black beyond the windows and even most of the servants still slept. They were preparing to leave, to head to Lochlann castle for the wake. It was a journey that would take all day, so they set out early, despite the darkness and the early morning chill.
Winter truly is approaching fast.
Joanna blew on her fingers, which were already cold.
“We should go, daughter,” Amabel said quickly, appearing in the hallway. She wore a long cloak, the hood fur-lined, swathing her auburn hair. She frowned at Joanna. “You are warm enough?”
Joanna nodded. “Yes, Mother.” In a velvet cape so dark it was almost black, a hood lined with fur about her face, Joanna could not have been warmer had she tried.
As it was, the cold had settled inside her, making her shiver no matter what she wore. Ever since that moment when her dream descended, becoming truth, Joanna had been cold.
Another voice broke the silence of the hallway.
“Are we leaving now?”
Alina came out of her bedchamber, a long black dress sweeping the floor behind her. All of them were dressed in black, in mourning: Alina, Amabel, and Joanna. In truth, only Amabel, as the eldest of the cousins, needed travel to represent the family at the wake. However, Alina, for reasons best known to herself, had offered to go as well. Joanna, as her daughter and the eldest of the younger cousins, had asked to accompany her, too.
Somewhere in her heart, she had a sense of what motivated Alina's choice. As healthy and hale as Amabel was, Joanna did worry for her mother, knowing her habit to push herself to exhaustion. Without Joanna keeping her in check, she would exhaust herself trying to set Lochlann to rights. That was her worry, and a glimpse into the dark surface of Alina's eyes told her she felt it, too. They were both worried for Amabel.
“Right!” Amabel said briskly, brushing a strand of coppery hair back under the hood of her cloak. “Are we ready to go now?”
“Mummy?” Amice, Joanna's little sister, suddenly appeared in the hallway, a worried frown on her face. She was dressed in a small black cloak, a small copy of Joanna's own.
Amabel smiled down at the child. As she bent to kiss her, Joanna noticed a sheen of sweat on her mother's face. She felt a stab of alarm.
The winter fever.
“Mother?” she said softly. Amabel looked up at her, green eyes shining. They were, Joanna noticed with a sinking sense of doom, far too bright. She had a fever. She was sure of it. She looked up at Alina, whose tranquil eyes looked gravely back at her. She saw it, too. Joanna felt her heart grow cold. She stood back and looked down at the pair of them, mother and small daughter.
“What, dear?” Amabel said.
She embraced Amice fondly, straightening her little coat carefully.
“Mummy,” Amice said, burying her face in Amabel's shoulder. “I feel sleepy.”
Amabel tensed. Joanna saw it.
“Sweetling, your head is hot,” Amabel said. “You're not feeling odd, are you?”
“I'm sleepy,” Amice insisted. She was, Joanna noticed, swaying slightly where she stood. Her skin, too, had a waxen sheen to it. Her eyes were bright.
Amabel looked at Joanna, a frown on her face.
“I don't like the look of that, dear. I think we should...”As she spoke, she stood up and, as she stood, she fell.
Joanna shouted in alarm.
“Mother!” she ran forward.
Amice looked frightened. She, too, ran to their mother.
“Mummy! No! Mummy!” Her little hands shook their mother's shoulder, her face crumpled with worry.
Joanna bent down to their mother, heart beating fast. She put her hand on her chest, feeling for her heart. Her pulse was racing, thready with fever. She was, Joanna realized with some shock, extremely ill.
How could she have hidden this from all of us? Foolish, stubborn...she wanted to shake the dear, wretched, determined...
Footsteps filled the hallway.
“Father!” Joanna looked up, feeling suddenly relieved. Alina dropped down to Amabel's side, joining Joanna, her long, tapered fingers on Amabel's brow. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she slept, lips parted.
Broderick leaning forward, concerned. He hunched over to join the three women. He put an arm around Amice, who was sobbing quietly. She buried her face in his shoulder and he stroked her hair.
“What's happening?” he asked.
“She's fevered, Broderick,” Alina said.
“Yes. So is Amice,” Joanna agreed quickly.
“Yes. She is. Well done, Joanna,” Alina added, fixing her with a strong gaze that, despite the circumstances, made Joanna flush with warmth.
“Thanks,” she said. “Father...?”
Broderick didn't need to be asked. He was already lifting Amabel. He carried her back to their chamber. Alina bent down to hug Amice, looking into the little girl's tear-soaked gaze.
“Mummy,” Amice wept. “What's happening, Aunt?”
“Your mummy is ill, dearest,” Alina said. “And you're not too well either,” she added. “The best thing you can do for your mummy is come and get back into bed. Let me come with you. I promise, the moment your mummy wakes up, I'll call you. Sound good?”
“Very well,” Amice said softly. She was weaving unsteadily as Alina led her away, and Joanna felt her heart go cold. Alone in the hallway, her heart was numb with worry.
Let them be well.
When Broderick came back, his handsome face was stiff with his own pain. “I've sent Blaire to send a guard for the physician,” he said. Blaire was the ladies' maid. “But I think...”
“She cannot go to Lochlann this way,” Joanna finished his sentence.
He sighed. “Wise words,” he agreed. “My dear. Your great-great uncle's legacy should be discussed. I cannot go – I need to be here to look after your mother. Alina, too. No one knows more of healing than she does. I need to ask you...if you...”
“Yes, Father. I will go to Lochlann. Alone.”
Her father gave a ragged breath. “I do not want to do this,” he said.
“I know, Father,” Joanna said quietly, “but it's required. None of us made this happen, so maybe it is destined to be this way.”
Her father looked into her eyes. His own clear, brown gaze was unwavering.
“You are a wise woman,” he said gently. “Be safe. Come back soon.”
He kissed Joanna's forehead. Joanna, swallowing hard, nodded.
“I'll try. You too, Father. Stay safe.”
He gave a chuckle, though his eyes sorrowed. “I'll be just fine, dear.”
Joanna smiled at him. “I trust you.”
They both laughed, though it was somehow sorrowful. Joanna walked to the end of the hallway, not wanting to linger, lest she start to cry.
When she turned at the end of the hallway, she saw him look away, going back to the chamber. Knowing he had watched her leave, she felt her heart bruise as if struck.
I love Father. And Mother. And Amice. And Alina and...
She sighed. Please. Let them be safe.
Hurrying down the hallway, she reached the stairs and, going down, went through to the front door of the castle. She passed through the great doors, heading to the gate where the coach waited.
Her luggage was already strapped to the roof. She shouted up to Angus, the coachman, to take the other trunks back – the ones of Amabel and Alina's clothing. Then, swinging up into the body of the coach, she settled down in the seat to try to sleep.
The journey to Lochlann took all day. It was night by the time they arrived.
Joanna, roused from a scant hour of daytime sleep, blinked, trying to clear her vision. She stared through the window.
It was dark outside, a deep blue sky over behind the hills. Ahead of them, a broad peak loomed. At its summit was a castle.
A vast, dark castle.
Joanna bit her lip. Was it her dream?
Shivering, she waited for the coach to reach the top. Only time would tell, now.
A voice broke through the darkness.
“State your name and business in Lochlann!”
Joanna felt herself tense as the sentry challenged them. She watched as Angus jumped down briskly.
“It's MacConnaway. And ye should ken as well as I do what our business is. We're here for the wake. It's lady Amabel's kinswoman.”
“Oh.”
The guard was suddenly very polite. With no more hesitance, he waved them through.
On into the castle of her vision.
The instant they were there, Joanna felt a shiver. It was the place. She was almost sure of it. Shivering with cold and nerves, she waited for Angus to lift her down. Then, hesitant, the cold eating into her bones despite the dress and fur-lined cape she wore, she walked up the steps beside him to the great door outside the vast central hall.
“It's Lady Joanna,” Angus said curtly to the man who met them there. “Amabel's daughter.”
The man stood aside smartly. Not wholly surprised at the respect her mother's name still commanded, Joanna walked through the doors and into the building.
It was dark. That was the first thing she noticed. Which seemed strange, on her last visits to Lochlann, there had at least been torches and lamps lit in the entrance. Now, there was almost nothing. On the landing of a vast set of stairs, a single torch burned in a holder on the wall. All else was in blue darkness. Why?
Joanna slit her eyes, trying to see. Trying desperately to make herself be less afraid.
It's not a nightmare. It's not like it. It's my great uncle’s funeral. My mother's old home. It's not a nightmare.
As she repeated the words to herself, Joanna walked up the steps. At the top, Angus turned to his right.
“I'd best head downstairs to the kitchens, my lady,” he said quietly. “Forgive me. However, I'd better not intrude in the family quarters. They're up those steps.”
“Of course. Thank you, Angus,” Joanna said quietly.
Feeling her vague fear become more powerful, Joanna walked up the night dark steps. She held her breath, saying the same words in her head over and again.
It's not a nightmare. It's not. It's not.
At the top of the steps, she followed an instinct and turned right. She found herself in a wide hallway, the right side open with vaulting arches that looked out to the courtyard where she had just stood. She saw something move in the colonnade and drew in her breath with fright. A white form darted there. She sighed with relief when she saw it was just a dog.
It's not a nightmare. It isn't.
She walked on up the hallway. The place was dark and silent, as quiet as a graveyard. She walked on, feeling her skin prickle and her hair rise and a sense of terror slowly grow inside her.
It's not a nightmare.
She reached the end of the hallway. On her right, a doorway opened. In it, a lamp suddenly lit.
In the light of the lamp, its pale fire flickering where he held it on his palm, she saw him.
The man.
The tall, dark-haired, lean-faced man of her dreams.
He was here.
Heart pounding, feet suddenly swift, Joanna turned and ran the other way.
Back to the great hall. The torches. The presence of the guards and some kind of life, of normality. She had just seen the man from her dark dream. Here, in the castle of her nightmare.
He was real.
Which meant everything else she dreamed was, too. Joanna had never been more frightened in her life. She was stranded, alone, in the depths of her nightmare. What could she do? Ever practical, the first thing that occurred to her was to go and find some dinner.
Grasping the bracket where the one torch stood, she hefted it from the sconce and walked lightly up the stairs. She would not let the darkness defeat her.