NEWS IS SHARED
“Chrissie?”
Alina was in the turret room, the one that looked out for miles over the landscape. She had sewing beside her on the settee, but, when Chrissie saw her from the door, she was not sewing. She was leaning back on the settee, her eyes fixed on the view out of the window, skin deathly pale.
“Alina!”
Chrissie walked in lightly, instantly concealing her worry and reaching for lightheartedness she did not entirely feel. There was something gravely wrong with her cousin...she was no healer, not like Alina herself was. She could see it at once, though.
“Chrissie,” Alina sighed, her voice as soft as a summer breeze. She sounded tired. “It's good to see you. And to have you here, with us. A delight.”
Chrissie smiled. Took her cousin's hand. It was icy. She winced, but carried on brightly. “It is lovely to be here! Of all the things I thought would happen in my future...this is the most unexpected. And the most wonderful.”
Alina smiled a little wistfully, squeezed her hand. She was frowning, as if even that effort taxed her too much. She sighed. “You thought for Heath at one time? I saw the fondness you had for him.”
“I love Heath,” Chrissie said warmly. “But it was not to be. I do not think I love him quite like this,” she added, waving a hand as she tried to explain. “I found I never did. He is my brother and I will always adore him as such. But this is...different,” she sighed. She was striving to explain something for which she had not the words.
Alina smiled softly. “I know what you mean, dear. I know what it is to love a man so deep.”
Chrissie nodded firmly. “I know. You and Duncan are...” she paused. “A special pair.”
“Thank you,” Alina said. She coughed, a brittle sound. When she was done, she looked exhausted.
“Alina,” Chrissie said, alarmed. “Can I call someone? At least let me send Blaire for a posset. You are unwell...” she trailed off as Alina vigorously shook her head.
“No, Chrissie. It is well. Come and sit here. I need to talk to you.”
Chrissie hung her head, feeling guilty at having flustered her cousin. She was an authority in the younger woman's life, and she had no right to talk to her as she just had.
“Alina...”
Alina sighed. “You can see all is not well with me. And I am not unwise to it. I know. I also know, dear, that there are no possets and no simple cures for what ails me. I...I lost the babe.”
Chrissie covered her mouth with her hands, surprise mixed with horror coursing through her.
“Alina! No!”
Alina smiled, though the smile had a bitter twist to it. “Aye. I did. It was painful. I mourn his passing. But at three months, we will not know if he would have lived.”
Chrissie swallowed, nodding. Of all the pains, to lose a child, your firstborn, was a cruel one. Especially since Chrissie knew Alina had longed for one, for Duncan, more than for herself, as a product of the joy in one another.
“I am sorry,” she whispered.
“Don't be,” Alina said with that same irony in her voice that made Chrissie at once smile, for memory of her, and wince for the bitterness that she now carried deep within her. “I mourn him, as I said. And it has left me...changed. As you see. I lost too much blood.”
Chrissie swallowed hard. She blinked rapidly, trying to understand what Alina was telling her in that strange, detached, dispassionate way.
“You aren't...you won't...you're not dying? Please, Alina. Please! Don't die! You mustn't.”
Alina smiled the gentle smile that always made her look like an angel, at least what Chrissie imagined an angel to be like. She gulped, remembering how Alina had been to her when she was four, missing her mother who had suddenly disappeared. She had seemed an angel then, her dark hair loose around her adolescent slim shoulders, her face with its same grave glory.
“I will try not to,” she said, the irony back in her voice. “But...” she gestured at her body, a gesture that took in the wasted form, the pale skin, and the cold hands.
“You will get well!” Chrissie said angrily. “I will look after you. I'll make you better. I will! I'll try.”
Alina smiled at her, a smile of tender sweetness. “My little girl. You were always like a child to me. Well, now, it seems, you look after me.” she grinned, something of her old spirit back in her face. “I believe you will try hard.”
Chrissie scowled, feeling suddenly frustrated. “I'll succeed, too,” she said hotly. “And then what will you say?”
Alina laughed, her head tipped back, long neck stretched, showing the ivory soft skin. Chrissie felt her heart thaw a little, seeing how she looked, in that instant like her old self, the woman who had them all in stitches with her comments about Uncle Brien in the bedchamber they all shared when they were girls together.
“I am glad you're here,” she said.
“I am glad I'm here.”
They sat in silence for a while. Chrissie leaned back, enjoying the closeness, the sense of trust. She had not, she realized, felt so safe for a long time. Blaine made her feel safe, and Alina as well. The rest of the world less so.
“Your secrets do not hold you,” Alina said, startling Chrissie so that she turned and squinted at her in absolute amazement.
“What? I mean, sorry, Alina. But...”
“You once thought they would be poison in you, those words you did not speak. However, like a wound that heals cleanly, the poison has gone. You are whole and still wonder at it.”
Chrissie sighed out, a shuddering out breath. She said nothing. Did not have to say anything. It was exactly how she felt. She could not have put it into words, but Alina had just put it so for her. She had been awaiting a healing that had already happened. She was whole; she didn't just think she was. She had not simply forgotten. It truly had left her life.
“Thank you,” she said, simply.
Alina smiled. She changed the position of her hand, so that it covered that of her cousin. They sat together in silence, each with her secrets the lighter for having been shared, in thought if not in word.
They were surprised by a voice in the corridor.
“There you are! You little rapscallion! What have you been up to, then? Eh?”
Amabel. They looked at each other, smiling. An instant later, their beloved cousin and sister appeared, a babe in her arms.
“Alina! There you are! I think Joanna wanted to find you! She doesn't usually leave the nursery unless she hears someone she likes.” She grinned broadly at her sister, lowered the child so she stood on hesitant feet, and plopped down into the chair opposite with a loud sigh.
“Oh, it's so lovely to be here, all three together!”
Alina and Chrissie smiled at her. Chrissie stayed where she was on the settee beside Alina, reluctant to break the bond of strength they seemed to be sharing one to another.
“I was just saying to Broderick,” Amabel continued, “that he and the boys should go out on a nice long hunt. Days, preferably. Leave us ladies to talk a long while. While away the evenings with chess and song. And then, when they come back, we can have parties!” She grinned at her sister and cousin, green eyes shiny.
Chrissie smiled. Alina laughed. “A wise notion,” she said wryly.
They all laughed. “Wise? Probably not. Fun? Yes!” Amabel said vibrantly. Joanna, evidently pleased by her mother's cheerful mood, came toddling over on stocky legs and looked up at her with gray eyes.
“Mama,” she said cheerfully. “Dance?”
They all laughed again. Amabel sighed. “Well, then! If someone can oblige and play the spinet, I think we can have a party here and now!”
Chrissie readily agreed, and while she played the spinet at the table by the window, sore in need of tuning, she watched as Amabel whirled about the room, the child in her arms. Alina watched them, a serene smile on her wooden face.
After a few minutes, Chrissie finished the song - “The Bonny Lasses of Tyree” – and Amabel collapsed breathlessly into the chair, the child cooing with delight on her knee.
“Well,” Amabel smiled at them all. “That's that! I can't dance much more than that in one day...she's already been tiring me out.”
They all smiled. Chrissie left her place and went over to talk to Joanna, who looked deep into her eyes and said: “Loch.”
They all chatted excitedly, convinced the blue of Chrissie's eyes was what inspired this utterance: she lived in a house with no blue-eyed people.
“I'm the only person in the family with blue eyes,” Chrissie mused.
“Well, yes. Except Aunt Aili, of course.” Alina reminded her gently.
“Oh! Yes!” Chrissie said, hand going over her mouth with sudden surprise. She had forgotten. She suddenly recalled her long-lost aunt, a powerful seer.
If anyone could help Alina, it is her.
As they sat chatting and Amabel called for spiced cakes and mulled ale – hoping, Chrissie guessed, to tempt Alina – she thought about her plan. The more she thought, the more it made sense. She would ask Blaine if she could travel to Lochlann to consult her. If there was healing for Alina, their wise aunt would know what it was.
When the day had lengthened to evening and Broderick appeared, wondering where his wife had gone and summoning them to dinner, she had made up her mind.
“Ladies!” Broderick said, his ruggedly handsome face appearing round the door, stretched with a smile. “There you are! I was starting to think you'd all been spirited away.” He smoothed his hands down a green tunic, his dark hunting cloak hanging still from his shoulder.
Amabel laughed. “No such luck, dearest!”
Broderick tipped his head back in a guffaw. “My dear, I assure you, I was miserable! I was about to send the guard out to find where you were.” He smiled gently at her.
“You flatterer!” Amabel teased. “You were just waiting to turn the castle into a big hunting party. Don't lie to me...”
Chrissie grinned, seeing them in a playful mood together. It made her heart warm to see the happy marriages her cousins had. She felt so proud to have entered the same state herself, and confident that any differences could be resolved, no matter what they were.
She frowned, then, wondering about her plan to help Alina. She hoped she could ask Blaine for help with it. She waited until after dinner, when they were alone in their chamber, the room dark and warm, and a single oil-lamp burning on the table.
“Dearest?”
“Yes?” he said quickly. He seemed distant and Chrissie guessed he had clashed with Duncan on some matter, for he was distracted the moment he arrived in their room.
“I was...I was talking to Alina today and...”
“She told you about what happened? What ails her? What is it?”
“Yes, she did. It is a matter I'm not sure she wanted to discuss...a delicate one,” Chrissie demurred, suddenly realizing that she didn't know whether or not anyone else knew of Alina's private grief. She decided it was better to keep it a secret, at least until she knew.
“Oh?” Blaine asked. He seemed to guess it was some feminine complaint, for he changed the subject tactfully. “I hope she will be well by the time the banquet Amabel has planned.”
Chrissie bit her lip. “I think Amabel hopes to try and feed her more,” she confided. “Blaine...”
“Yes?” he snapped, already lying down, pillow bunched under his neck.
Chrissie sighed. She was not sure why he sounded impatient. It made her reluctant to tell him about her plan to help Alina, for she might have to explain what was wrong with her and he didn't seem to be in the mood for it.
“I was wondering if...If I could go on a pilgrimage,” she said, thinking quickly. A little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone just now and she could always tell him the truth tomorrow.
Blaine raised a brow. “Where to?”
Chrissie swallowed. It was not like him to be so suspicious, so jumpy! “To...to Saint Tredwell's shrine, near Inveruglas.”
“Oh,” Blaine said, seeming stumped. The holy saint was renowned for healing, and perhaps he guessed it was for Alina, for his mood softened slightly.
“Well, then,” he said gently. “I'd be glad for it. I worry, though. I wish I could come with you, but...”
Chrissie swallowed. She understood that Blaine had only just taken up duties here. Broderick and Duncan would expect him to prove himself, tending to his responsibilities with the men. She was sure he had a lot to take over in such a short time.
“I can go alone,” she said decisively. That at least made it easy to keep to the story without questions. The holy place she intended to visit – at least in his imagined version – was further. That meant she had a day with Aunt Aili, much better than a few hours she otherwise expected to be granted.
“As if I could let you go alone,” Blaine said coldly. Chrissie winced.
“I do not need you to let, as you say, me do anything,” she said stiffly. “Yes, I am your wife. I owe you fealty. But you have never claimed it before.” She felt hurt. He knew how hard it was for her to trust, how hard it was to feel as if she was at someone's mercy.
Blaine sighed. Chrissie heard it. She felt sorry for him then, but she did not want to forgive that readily. He should know better than to press his position of ownership with her. She made a decision.
“Goodnight,” she said softly. She turned round, tucking the pillow under her head.
She lay there, tense, waiting for him to do something, for they never slept without at least a hug. He did nothing. At length, she heard him turning, trying to get comfortable.
As she fell asleep, she realized she missed his arms holding her, but there was nothing she could do to remedy that: he would have to say sorry first, for she would have no man bully her. Not again. Never again.
Her sleep was fitful, haunted with images of Alina, dying, and Aunt Aili at her most formidable, making some complicated prophecy Chrissie could not understand. All she remembered of the dreams when she awoke was Aili's warning: Know what it is you want.