by Radha
Here, now, drink this.
Moncrieffe was thrusting a dram of Scottish whiskey into her hand. Kerry sluggishly remembered where she was and pushed it away, shaking her head. I I didna know, she whispered hoarsely as she forced herself to sit up straight.
I am certain he didna want to burden you.
That caused her to snort indelicately. He hasna exactly left me without a burden.
There now, Mrs. McKinnon. Youll only make yourself ill, he said with a twinge of condescension, and strolled to one of six windows to gaze out at a green lawn below. He knew he was dying, and there was little he might have done to reverse the course of things. He knew you would be adequately provided for, so he chose not to cloud the last few months of his life on this earth.
That brought Kerrys gaze up and around to where Moncrieffe stood. He knew that I would be adequately provided for? she asked, aware that her voice sounded shrill. Surely you understand my situation now, my lord, and I therefore canna imagine what you might possibly mean!
Indeed I do understand, he said, turning toward her. Better than you know. The strange smile that spread his lips made her blood suddenly run cold. Your husband and I came to some agreement about the debt, you see, and he was rather insistent that your future be part of any agreement between the two of us. I was very happy to oblige him.
Fingers of dread scraped at Kerrys belly. What agreement? she forced herself to ask.
Moncrieffe extended his hand in a gesture for her to join him at the window. Come here, will you? I would show you something.
Her legs and arms did not want to move. Kerry rose slowly, moved stiffly across the large expanse of room, the dread thickening. As she neared the window, he put his arm around her shoulders and smiled warmly. See there? he asked, pointing to the green. His son Charles was on the lawn, holding a stick and playing a game of keep away with two dogs, exactly as a young boy might play. To one side, under the canopy of a tree, Thomas leaned against the wagon, watching him from beneath the brim of his hat. Charles has now reached his thirtieth year. I think it rather obvious he will never possess the mind of a grown man, but Ive seen to it that it will never matter. Charles will inherit considerable wealth. In addition to the property I own now, and will soon repossess from you, I rather suspect that the Bank of Scotland will be quite pleased to sell me your land, Mrs. McKinnon.
Now he was confusing her. But but the land in question apparently belongs to someone else. The Bank of Scotland has written me so.
An absentee owner who has never so much as set foot on the property. I rather imagine he, too, will be quite happy to be relieved of the debt.
This wasnt making any sense. Kerry shook her head. I doona understand, she said, moving away from his arm draped heavily around her shoulder.
Then let me explain it simply, he said, as if speaking to a child. The bank will want what is owed them. The owner will want to be relieved of what has become an extraordinary debt. I can purchase your paltry acreage for perhaps a fraction of its market value and make both owner and bank happy.
Her mind was swimming; her gaze shifted to the figure of Charles on the lawn, and she vaguely noted that his shirt had come loose from his trousers and his hair was flying in all directionsa perfect contrast to his neatly attired father. I doona believe you, she muttered. Fraser intended for me to remain in Glenbaden. He wouldna have agreed to give what was left to you or anyone else.
Moncrieffe laughed, put his hand on her shoulder, and leaned down so that his mouth was just a breath from her ear. You are quite mistaken. He didna want Thomas McKinnon to have you, so in exchange for forgiving his debt, Fraser agreed that you would make a lovely wife for my Charles.
Something in her breast exploded; Kerry leapt from his reach and whirled, her hand pressed against her racing heart. How dare you! she cried as the thick dread quickly turned to bile in her throat. How dare Fraser? How dare he betray her so?
Come now, its not as if you have any other options! he reminded her. When you rid yourself of those widows weeds, do you think any decent gentleman will come running to your door? Even McKinnon willna have you then! You have nothing! Your only alternative to my rather generous offer is to seek shelter with your mother, whom I daresay will find a man to provide for you!
No words would come; her tongue was frozen. The shock was too great; she felt herself crumbling under the weight of it.
A heavy sigh escaped Moncrieffe. You couldna hope for a better solution, Mrs. McKinnon. Ill grant you me Charles is rather slow, but you will have all that you want
I will never marry Charles, she said, surprised al how calm she sounded. And I willna be coerced, by you or anyone else.
Moncrieffe pressed his lips tightly together as he considered her for a moment. Think before you speak, Mrs. McKinnon. You might regret such rash words.
I will regret nothing, she said, her voice growing stronger. I willna marry your son, not under any circumstance. Moncrieffes face turned red in response to that, and Kerry was suddenly anxious to be gone from there. You will have your five thousand pounds, she said haughtily, and turned on her heel, marching for the door, unable and unwilling to think just how she might accomplish that extraordinary feat.
Mrs. McKinnon!
Her hand stilled on the door handle; her instinct was to flee while she could, but she lifted her chin, forced herself to turn and meet his gaze. His eyes were blazing with anger, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. You canna possibly manufacture five thousand pounds! But I will allow you to tryas it is, you are no use to us in your mourning habits. You have one month, and then you will honor your husbands debt to me, do you quite understand?
Oh, she understood all right. Understood so clearly that she almost laughed out loud at the absurd impossibility of it. As I said. You will have your five thousand pounds, she said with false confidence, and jerked the door open, walking through with her head held high as if she had some notion of how she might produce the bloody miracle of five thousand pounds.
Chapter Four
Thomas was fit to be tied when Kerry announced her decision to go to Dundee and meet with an agent from the Bank of Scotland. Waste of bloody time, that is. No point in it, he had said again and again, arguing that the bank wouldnt loan her any money for any purpose. But as he didnt have a better idea, Kerry was determined. She was not going to let Moncrieffe win, not until she had drawn her last breath. So she had donned her black bombazine, packed a small, worn red satchelcomplete with the gun Thomas made her takeand slipped a beautiful, triple strand of pearls into a small pocket sewn on her petticoat.
When May protested her intention to use the pearls as collateral against the debts, Kerry had lost her patience with the lot of them. Could they offer a better solution? No. She had no idea what she was doing, was frightened unto death with what she was about to do, and did not need their doubts at this moment.
What would the bank say to it? The pearls had belonged to her great-grandmother, then her grandmother. Her father had given them to her as a wedding present. The memory of her wedding did not improve her black mood, nor the memory of the summer ball at Moncrieffe House, the only other time in her twenty-seven years she had worn the pearls. The good Lord above knew it pained her to risk losing themthe pearls were the only things from her childhood that held any meaning for herbut unfortunately, they also were the only things she had worth more than a few farthings. And she was not going to lose her land, not to Moncrieffe she wasnt, and on that point, she was absolutely, unequivocally determined.
Her shock, indignation, and choking despair upon leaving Moncrieffe House had slowly turned into a ravenous anger. There had been moments in the last twenty-four hours that she was actually glad Fraser was dead, because if he were living, she might very well have strangled the last breath from him. It was impossible to fathom that he could have defamed his own cousin then bartered her away like thatand to Charles Moncrieffe of all people! Mother of God!
Fraser had done worse than betray her horribly; he had destroyed every feeling she had ever had for him, and the worst of it was that she couldnt demand an explanation from him, couldnt ask him why he had done this to her. She had nursed Fraser until he had finally succumbed to his illness, had kept their land with what little she hadshe had been a good wife to him! The depth of betrayal scored her, and she believed, as the coach thundered through the serene countryside, that she had lost everything because of him.
The anger had, however, compelled her into action. It seemed as if all doors of escape were slamming shut, but she was not ready to give up. There simply had to be a way, and at the moment, that way seemed to be in Dundee.
So to Dundee she had come, using a portion of their dwindling funds to buy passage on a public coach departing from Loch Eigg before the sun was even up. Kerry traveled a full day and a half sandwiched between a woman with arms that looked like roasting turkeys and a man who smelled to high heaven. In Dundee, she had waited patiently for four hours before the banks agent, Mr. Abernathy, could see her. He had apparently just returned to Dundee that very day from a lengthy absence. Although he was quite flustered, Mr. Abernathy was a kind old man, a grandfatherly sort, who patted her hand frequently as he explained that the value of the pearls was simply not enough to cover even the interest on the loan. Apparently, Kerry possessed a very pretty triple strand of mediocre pearls. Mr. Abernathy did, however, keep the pearls. Not that he hadnt been terribly sympathetic about her plighthe had generously offered her until the end of the month to come up with something else of value she might use to make a payment of some sort. Any sort.
It seemed as if the whole world was waiting to collapse at the end of the month.
Even after that disheartening interview with Mr. Abernathy, Kerry still would not admit defeat. She spent two of her last twenty-five pounds on a small room in a boarding house, where she paced until the early hours of the morning and it was time to board a public coach bound for Loch Eigg by way of Perth.
The public coach almost emptied in Perth when the road turned north, save Kerry and two men. She hardly saw the heath-covered hills roll by between towering hedgerows and pines and maples that cast long shadows on the road. She responded coolly to the efforts of the two male passengers to engage her in conversation. How could she converse with them? If she opened her mouth, she was certain the fear and frustration would produce enough tears to drown them all. She could not recall ever feeling so abandoned and alone.
Or so angry!
It was over. She would lose all she ever had, all she ever wanted. Fraser had once promised her a rich life filled with children, family, and a comfortable hearth. That faded memory seemed almost a figment of her imagination now.
With a soft groan, she closed her eyes, wishing for mind-numbing sleep, just a few moments away from the hell that was suddenly her life. And she might have found it, too, had the coach not suddenly swerved sharply to the right in a screech of metal, tossing her onto the floor. The two men cursed as the coach righted and came to a very bumpy halt.
Fabulous. Just when she thought there was nothing left to possibly go wrong.
Here now, lassie, are you quite all right? one of the men asked her.
I am fine. She was lodged awkwardly between the seats, halfway on the bench and on the floorboards, and clumsily managed to fumble her way back up on the bench.
What in thunder? the other one demanded, and swung the door open, almost hitting the driver.
Very sorry, lads. Seems the axle threw a bolt, the driver said apologetically. Kerry had no idea what that meant, but the two men immediately groaned and rolled their eyes at one another. The news obviously wasnt good. Kerry looked to the driver, who lifted his shoulders in a sort of half-shrug. Sorry, lass. Well have to turn back to Perth, we will.
Perth! Oh no! This was disastrous! She could not afford to spend another two pounds on a boarding room and she had to get homeher time was running short. Cant you drive on? she asked, aware of the desperation in her voice. Surely there is a village close by
The driver shook his head. Too far. Perths closer. Ah, lassie, doona look at me like that! he exclaimed, wincing. If we drive on, we could ruin the whole axle! The parts, aye, they rub together without that bolt
But Im expected home, sir! I canna go back to Perth! Is there no village nearby where I might hire another coach? she insisted.
The driver absently pushed his hat forward so that he could better scratch the back of his head as he pondered that. Well I suppose you could wait at the crossroads here. Theres a coach from Crieff that comes through regular, headed north for Dunkeld and Pitlochry. He paused, consulting his pocket watch. Aye, an hour, no more than two, Id wager. You could wait.
I beg your pardon, one of the gentlemen quickly interrupted. I wouldna advise it, lass. We are far from civilization and the public coaches are wholly unreliable
Beggin your pardon, sir, but this service arrives in Perth every evening at eight oclock on the button and leaves promptly at six oclock every morning, arriving at Blairgowrie precisely at
Beggin your pardon, the second man snapped, but are we or are we not about to turn back to Perth?
Well now, you expect a bit of mechanical trouble now and again, you do!
Are you certain about the Crieff coach? Kerry interrupted.
The driver glowered at the men before answering. I am indeed, lass. Youll do right well to wait here for it.
She extended her hand, ready to climb down. The smaller of the two men tried to stop her with a hand on her arm. Madam! Theres naught but wilderness about you now! If you wait for that coach, you do so at your own peril! he pleaded.
As if anything else could happen to herLord, even Job had not suffered so many trials! Kerry smiled at the two gentlemen as she shook off the one mans hand, then fairly leapt from the coach. Gentlemen, I thank you for your kind concern, but I am rather determined to reach Pitlochry by nightfall. And she continued smiling as the driver fetched her satchel from the back running boards.
The larger of the two men threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. The driver, however, seemed rather pleased with her decision. Our service willna fail you, lass, he said cheerfully, and grinning broadly, tipped his hat to the men before slamming the coach door shut. He showed Kerry to a spot where the road from the east curved into another road running north. Wait here, and hell be along in an hour or so, mark me. Youll be right safe, doona you worry, he added, placing her satchel at her feet.
Thank you. She inclined her head to his jaunty wave good-bye, then watched him and another driver turn the coach around and roll slowly in the direction from which they had come.
As the coach disappeared from sight, Kerry glanced around at the unfamiliar and very deserted surroundings. The shadows were already lengthening; it wouldnt be long before the mist would roll in, shrouding everything. She peered into the dark forest behind her, unable to see past the dark greenery of the first line of trees. The foliage was thick and deep, seeming almost impassable from where she stood. And as she peered into the dark shadows, she was struck with the memory of Mary Blain, a schoolmate of hers years ago who had a penchant for telling the most ghoulish stories.
Kerry scoffed, turned away, and looked up the road. She was not going to stand here like a child and think of beasties and fairies and trolls living under bridges. How absurd! Nor would she allow Thomass dire warnings of robbers and generally unsavory characters bother her. This was a minor inconvenience, nothing more. That sound that kept coming from the woods behind her was just a squirrel. The Crieff coach would be along in no time at all.
She had nothing to worry about.
Just like the driver said.
But the coach was not there in an hour. Or two. Or even four.
Arthur was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was not overly fond of Scotlandor perhaps it was just Scots he took issue with. The country was beautiful. He could not deny that. Deep, swift running
rivers cutting through dark green rolling hills, tall stately trees. But the people, well he had learned that they were a stubborn lot and not exactly enamored of the English. One of them even had the audacity to call him a Sassenach.
No, he was not overly fond of the Scots, a conclusion he firmly reached standing in the paddock of a stable just outside Perth. Absently slapping his gloves against the palm of his hand, he waited for the impudent stable master to bring him the mount he had purchased at a swindlers rate. Not that hed had any choice. It had taken him a full day just to find a stable where he might purchase a mount, as the Scots apparently didnt have the same need of horses as the English. He routinely received a blank stare when he inquired as to where he might locate a stable for the purpose of purchasing a mount.
Howd you get here, then? one man had asked, apparently puzzled that a man might have need to actually purchase a horse.
I hired a private coach.
Wont that do for ye now, milord? the man replied, scratching the top of his balding head. Good God.
In all honesty, Arthur had rather enjoyed Edinburgh and certainly the journey to Glasgow and up the River Clyde. One particular ship builder was ecstatic when, after showing Arthur about his shipyard and onto a new clipper, Arthur had arranged to purchase one for the Christian Brothers fleet. So ecstatic that he threw a fete in Arthurs honor that entailed excellent lobster, Spanish wine, and a pretty wench who was happy to warm Arthurs bed that night. Ah yes, he had rather enjoyed the River Clyde. But not Perth. He slapped his gloves against his palm again and glowered at the stable entrance. What could possibly be taking the man so long? This entire ordeal just confirmed that he was quite mad for continuing on to Dundee on horseback. But when he had returned from his review of the new Scottish clippers, a letter from that funny little Regis had been waiting for him at the Sherbrooke, requesting a meeting in Dundee to discuss the final disposition of Phillips landin three weeks precisely four longer than previously set. That did not set well with Arthur. He was quite certain he had told the hapless solicitor that he fully intended to be on board a ship bound for England by then.
