The Scottish Bride - Catherine Coulter [63]
“Now, I can see that I am needed. There is a conundrum of magnificent proportions here. I—we—are here to resolve everything. First, get that girl out of that bed.”
Tysen rolled his eyes. It kept him from marching up to Mrs. Griffin and either snarling something unvicarlike into her face or throwing her out the window, if only they were wide enough to accommodate her, which he doubted they were.
Sinjun said slowly, still absorbing the irrefutable fact that this woman actually existed and was standing here in Tysen’s bedchamber, “Pearlin’ Jane didn’t tell me about you, Mrs. Griffin.”
“Obviously this Pearlin’ Jane person doesn’t know everything,” said Mr. Griffin, one shoulder showing around his wife.
“If Pearlin’ Jane had told you anything at all about Mrs. Griffin,” Tysen said to his sister, “I doubt you would have stirred from Vere Castle even if my head was under the guillotine blade. You would have written me a letter of condolence and kept your distance.”
“I do not find you amusing, my lord.”
“No, I imagine that you don’t,” Tysen said. “Now, why don’t all of us leave Mary Rose to rest? Perhaps Mrs. MacFardle will provide us tea to pour down our respective gullets. Then perhaps you, Mrs. Griffin, will feel that the conundrum is well in hand and you are free once again to take your leave.”
“I continue not to like your humor, my lord.”
“Sometimes, Mrs. Griffin,” Tysen said, swallowing his gorge since there was no choice at all, “I don’t either.”
“I insist that you satisfy me, my lord,” said Mrs. Griffin.
Tysen said, “I doubt that I am capable of accomplishing that, ma’am. Come along now. Mary Rose isn’t well.”
“She doesn’t deserve to be,” Mr. Griffin said, extending his neck so that he could see around his wife’s shoulder. “No one has anything to do with her.”
I am not a violent man, Tysen said over and over to himself. Even if I were, I would not allow myself to strike an older man who has probably drunk more than his share of smuggled French brandy.
“You go ahead,” Sinjun said, waving them all away. “I wish to speak to Mary Rose. Colin, I wish you to remain and listen so that you may tell me things later that I am perhaps missing in all this.”
Tysen didn’t want to leave his sister with Mary Rose. He wasn’t certain why, but he just knew, all the way to the scar over his left rib that occasionally ached when the weather turned unexpectedly, that it wasn’t a good idea. Colin took his arm. “You have no choice,” Colin said, sympathy and humor in his voice. “Sinjun must needs meddle, you know that.”
“Yes, I know,” Tysen said. “The first time she meddled, I believe, she was four years old and Douglas ended up under a rosebush, hiding from our father.”
“Go, my dear,” Sinjun said, giving him that special smile of hers that he had never trusted her entire life. “I will take care of things here. Trust me. Ah, I believe I was five that time.”
Tysen sighed, smiled at Mary Rose. “I will see you soon. Try to rest. Try to ignore my sister.” He then told Meggie not to flatten Mary Rose with too much protection and followed the Griffins out of the bedchamber.
“Now,” Sinjun said, focusing all of her formidable intelligence on Mary Rose, “let me tell you all about Pearlin’ Jane and what she said to me.”
“Who is Pearlin’ Jane?” Mary Rose asked.
Meggie said, “She is Aunt Sinjun’s ghost. She lives at Vere Castle. She’s been dead for a very long time, but she takes care of Aunt Sinjun.”
“That’s right,” Sinjun said, and sat down in the big wing chair. “She came to me last night and told me that Tysen was in trouble, here at Kildrummy.”
“He is,” Mary Rose said. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t think I believe in ghosts either. I’ve never seen one, even here, and there are supposed to be at least six ghosts hanging about Kildrummy.” She tried to smile through her tears, but it didn’t help.
Meggie squeezed Mary Rose’s hand as she came up