Arsenic and Old Armor Read Online Free

doesn’t
care for me, and he doesn’t care for my family. He doesn’t want me, I tell
you.”
    “ But what makes you say
that?”
    Marion stood with her hands on her hips and
faced the nun. “Because he thinks there is madness in my
blood.”
    “ Madness?” The wrinkled
face of Sister Beatrice creased into a smile. “Are you talking of
the little peculiarities you’ve occasionally mentioned about your
uncle? About him acting as if he was William Wallace?”
    Marion nodded, thinking about Uncle
William’s ‘little peculiarities.’ No one at Fleet Tower thought
anything of it, but Iain Armstrong had used it to sent her to
Skye.
    “ My ‘betrothed’ has no
respect for my family. My uncle is loud and talks and acts
strangely at times, but the important thing is that he is quite
kindhearted. Sir William is very sweet. Funny, even.”
    The nun motioned to one of the kitchen
helpers to bring them more water. “An uncle who acts peculiar at
times. That is certainly not enough reason to think your entire
family is mad. I believe you are imagining the worst about Sir
Iain.”
    “ No, I’m not. You don’t
know the man,” Marion argued. “He is very serious. Twelve years ago
he was old before his time. Withered in spirit. He sees people as
he wishes to see them, no matter how innocent that person’s actions
might be. He thinks even worse of the rest of my family,
too.”
    Sister Beatrice straightened gingerly and
wiped her hands on a rag. “But how could he? Your father is dead.
Your two aunts are gentle old ladies, and from the letters you have
been reading to me that they regularly send, they love you like
their own child.”
    “ I agree. But Iain twists
things to suit himself. He finds something wrong with everyone,”
Marion explained. “Starting with my father. John McCall never
imagined he was William Wallace like Uncle William. But in bravery
he was no less than that great hero. After all these years, I still
remember him so vividly. He was fearless, bold, a giant of a man
who was a master in wielding a sword. He died in Flodden Field
beside King Jamie.”
    “ Your father, the Earl of
Fleet, was a hero, to be sure. Now, why would your betrothed think
something was wrong with him?”
    “ Because of rumors,” Marion
said quietly. “I was young but not deaf. And I never witnessed any
of this. But there were stories of my father…well, liking to roam
around the village at night.”
    “ And what’s wrong with
that?”
    “ He…” Marion hesitated.
“They said he often walked about at night wearing nothing but his
cap…a tam with a great feather rising from it…and his
sword.”
    Despite her advanced age, Beatrice’s face
turned three shades of red.
    “ They were surely just ugly
rumors,” Marion said passionately. “No doubt tales invented to
besmirch the man’s name. He was a powerful man. Now that I am
older, I understand it much better. His enemies, our neighbors the
Armstrongs—probably the present laird’s father, in fact—were no
doubt the ones that invented such nonsense.”
    Marion picked up a nearby bowl and sprinkled
more flour into her mix. She dug her fingers into the dough and
kneaded furiously. “And then my aunts. They like to talk…sometimes
ceaselessly. But that comes from being so close to each other in
age, in life. They are almost one spirit in two bodies. They have
to think aloud so the other can hear, too. Of course, Aunt Margaret
was getting hard of hearing when I was there. And Aunt Judith liked
to repeat what her sister said. But that can happen to anyone.
There is nothing wrong with that, is there?”
    “ And your betrothed does
not think too highly of them, either?”
    “ He sent me away, didn’t
he?” she replied shortly. Marion could feel the heat of her anger
rising up her neck into her face. She tried to fight it, but it was
the same burning feeling she felt every time she thought of home.
“And not once, during all these years, did he send for me