by Alisa Adams
"Where are you from, Mrs McCutcheon?" she asked curiously.
* * *
The woman blushed. She was middle-aged but plump, fair and pretty.
"From Manchester, my Lady," she replied, "but I fell in love and married a Scotsman."
Rosina laughed.
"Love is truly blind, Mrs McCutcheon!" she replied, "she doesn't care if you're dark or fair, male or female, dog or cat!"
* * *
Mary McCutcheon laughed. She liked this woman already.
"How did Mr. Baxter lose his eye, Mrs McCutcheon?" Maisie asked, "in battle?"
* * *
The housekeeper laughed.
"No Miss," she replied, "nothing so heroic. He was playing a game of cards and one of the other players was a sore loser. He was drunk and put a broken bottle in it. He is still serving a ten-year jail sentence."
* * *
"Doesn't seem to slow Mr Baxter down, though," Rosina observed. She was watching Maisie as she hung up her clothes. There was something in her face that had not been there before. Her next words confirmed Rosina's suspicions.
* * *
"What a shame," she said casually, "he must have been quite handsome."
Rosina and Mrs McCutcheon exchanged glances.
* * *
"He's not married," Mary said blithely, "not because of his eye, but because no sensible woman will have him!"
"Why not?" Maisie asked, "what's wrong with him?"
Mrs. McCutcheon sighed.
* * *
"He never stops working! Day and night! The staff says that the only time he will lie down to sleep will be when they put him in his coffin!" Rosina flapped a hand at her, laughing.
"He just hasn't found the right woman yet!"
It was a giggling threesome who descended the stairs a while later, where a butler showed Maisie and Rosina the way to the dining room. Mrs McCutcheon waited a while longer till Findlay Baxter came in, then bade them goodnight. Maisie got up to go - as a lady's maid her status was not quite high enough to dine with the present company - but Rosina detained her with a hand on her arm.
* * *
"You are quite worthy and welcome to sit with me, Maisie," she said sternly, "isn't she, Mr Baxter?"
* * *
"Indeed," he replied, smiling. He had just been thinking how much he was going to enjoy having Maisie sitting at the table with him, "I insist on it. It's not often I get to share my lonely table with two beautiful ladies."
Maisie was attracted to Findlay Baxter instinctively as soon as she saw him, and unbeknownst to her, the feeling was mutual. Rosina could feel it in the air between them but said nothing that would embarrass them. She kept up a flow of light chatter all through the soup course and the main course with Maisie putting in a word here and there, but when dessert came in the form of shortbread and coffee, Maisie's eyes lit up.
* * *
"I am sorry Cook did not prepare something richer," Findlay apologized, "but she had no time."
* * *
"Please do not worry, Mr Baxter," she said rapturously, "I would walk a million miles for coffee!"
* * *
Findlay laughed, then leaned over and patted her hand. His one eye widened.
"I hear it is the taste of the gods!" he said laughingly.
'My god, how lovely you are,' he thought. He had always loved dark beauties with brown eyes and olive skin. Rosina, although she was a very attractive woman, was fair, and did nothing for him. But Maisie was intelligent, funny, beautiful, and was the first woman who had delighted him in a long while.
Logan arrived a while later looking almost as bedraggled as his prisoners. He was tired, dirty and looked very depressed. Rosina rushed to him the moment he came in.
"I was so worried," she looked up into his face and kissed him, and he laid his cheek on top of her hair for a moment, then gave her a quick hug.
"I am very glad you weren't there," he said grimly, "they are not good men. They're not men at all."
"My Laird!" Findlay came up to him and held out his hand, "it has been too long! How are you? I hope those beggars did you no harm?"
Logan smiled tiredly.
"It's good to see you too," he patted Findlay on the shoulder, "we will talk tomorrow when I'm rested. Now I must eat!"
"Of course, my Laird, goodnight Milady, miss Maisie," he bowed to all of them, and Maisie's eyes followed him as he walked away.
Logan sat down at the table and began to eat the food he was given as if he had not eaten for a year. She said nothing, but stroked his hair and looked at him lovingly.
* * *
"They have coffee," she whispered. He smiled, but it was a sad, defeated kind of smile.
"You look terrible," she observed.
"Thank you," he replied, "I am having a bath. Can you come and see me when I'm finished?"
"Of course," she frowned anxiously, "Logan, are you all right?"
He nodded.
"Still a bit shocked, I think," he sighed and put his hands over his face for a second, "today made me realize something very important, and I want - need to talk to you about it."
"Of course," she looked into his bright blue eyes and frowned anxiously, "whatever it is I can face it."
"Do not be too sure, Rosie," he said ominously.
43
The Lost Letter
Connor stretched out on his bed as soon as he came inside that day. All he wanted to do now was take his boots off and have a nap before dinner, but his mind was too active to rest. The previous day Monique had had a bright, brittle look as if she were trying to look happy without feeling it. There was something false about her, as though she were trying to hide something, but when he asked her she denied that anything was wrong, then wound her arms around him and kissed him. By the time she had finished with him, he had forgotten about his worries, and they ate a quiet dinner together, sitting afterward in contented silence in front of the fire. Now the worry had come back to niggle him again. There was something - something not quite right. Eventually, he gave up. He put on his clothes and took his horse out again. A swift hard ride would blow away the cobwebs and refresh him.
* * *
Monique had gone out riding that day too, and when she came in her body was aching with tiredness and stress. She went up to her room and went to undress, sit down and think for a while. She took off her riding habit and went to her bureau to look for Hugh's letter. For some reason she had got it into her mind that he must have put a secret message in there for her - she just could not accept that it was over.
She looked in all of her bureau drawers, in amongst her shoes, her jewelry box, and the pockets of all her coats, dresses and skirts. By this time she was beginning to feel panicky. Where was it? She had no maid, and the door was always locked. She had unlocked it herself when she came in, and she was fairly sure she had put it into one of her clothes drawers underneath a pile of petticoats, but she had already looked there. It must be somewhere else. Perhaps she had left it lying on top of her dressing table and it had blown away when the room was aired. She sat down on the bed and tried to take deep breaths to calm herself, then she decided to ask Juliette's advice - she was so practical and sensible. She rushed downstairs and into the big sitting room where Juliette usually spent her afternoons. She was relieved beyond measure to see her sister now and fell into her arms as soon as Juliette stood up to greet her.
"What is it?" Juliette asked anxiously.
"Hugh - Hugh's letter to me - it's gone!" she cried and burst into tears. Juliette held her in her arms and tried to calm her.
* * *
"Shhh…" she said, as though she were talking to a small child, "we will find it." She poured Monique a glass of whiskey with water in it to calm her down a little, then they went upstairs to Monique's room again to search. They looked everywhere, even under the carpets. They shook out Monique's books, her clothing and even looked in her jewelry box. Only one thing was missing - an expensive sapph
ire and diamond necklace that Connor had given her. But the box was always securely locked and kept at the bottom of her bureau, which was also locked. She had the only key - well, except for Connor, and he was hardly likely to steal it! After their exhaustive search, they looked at each other helplessly. They could do no more.
* * *
"Did you burn the letter - maybe without thinking?" Juliette suggested. It was wildly improbable, but it was the only thing she could think of. But Monique was really beginning to panic.
"What about my necklace?" she asked hysterically. "Connor will be furious! How can I tell him?"
Juliette took her hands.
"Who is the chambermaid for this room?" Juliette asked, "and does she have a key?"
"She does," Monique was beginning to feel hopeful, "do you think she stole it?"
"It was of no use to anyone," Juliette pointed out, "but let us see what she has to say, hmm?"
Accordingly, the maid was summoned. Kirsty, who was a short, plump, carrot-haired girl was trembling with fear. She curtsied and kept her eyes on the floor as Juliette, who was by far the calmer of the two sisters, addressed her soberly.
"Kirsty," she said gently, "we have a problem I hope you can help us with."
"I will if I can, Madam."
"My sister has lost a very personal letter," she began, "and since you clean this room, we wondered if you had seen it. It is of no value at all to anyone else, and my sister treasures it for sentimental reasons."
Kirsty's brow furrowed in thought.
"Aye, Madam, I saw it yesterday," she replied brightly, and pointed to the brightly glowing fire," it wis over there, behind the wee statue on the mantlepiece. I mind because it wis very windy and I closed the casement in case the paper should blow intae the fire," she paused and thought. "Aye, an' then I thought I should move it in case it fell in onyway, so I pit it under yon wee vase on the bureau."
* * *
Monique leaned over to whisper in Juliette's ear.
"What about the necklace?"
Juliette put up a hand to silence her. She obviously had another plan.
"Did you leave the door open when you left or did you lock it?" she asked. Kirsty frowned.
"It wis a funny thing, Madam, I unlocked when I came in," her tone was puzzled, "and left the key in the door, bit when I came oot it wisnae there. I looked everywhere, went back to my work, and eventually, I told Mrs Morrison."
* * *
The girl was so transparently telling the truth that Juliette let her go after thanking her for her co-operation. Then she stood up decisively,
"I am going to speak to Mrs Morrison, the housekeeper," she said firmly, "something else is going on here."
* * *
When they spoke to Mrs Morrison, it was in the big front sitting room which the staff usually called 'Juliette's Room,' since she spent so much time there.
* * *
"Mrs Morrison," Monique began hesitantly, "this is a very delicate matter, and I rely on your utmost confidentiality."
* * *
"Of course, Madam," she replied, frowning, "you can rely on me," she had a rather upper-class Lowlands accent and her speech was quite unlike the local people.
* * *
"A very personal and sentimental letter has gone missing from my room," Monique went on, "I asked Kirsty, the chambermaid, and she said that the last time she saw it was yesterday, a very windy day, and she closed the windows to keep the wind out, since the letter was on the mantelpiece and may have blown in the fire. She put it on my bureau. We - " she indicated Juliette, "looked everywhere, but we cannot find it."
"Kirsty told me about it, but when we went to look for it we started upstairs and looked around up there, but when we came down to my room it was back here on the hook." Mrs. Morrison said, "we thought that Kirsty had just dropped it and been unable to find it, and someone else had locked the door and returned it. Have you lost anything else?"
* * *
The two sisters looked at each other for a split second, then Monique spoke to Julia in French.
"What shall we do? Shall we tell her?"
Juliette thought for a moment then nodded.
"One more thing has gone missing," she said heavily, "a priceless diamond and sapphire necklace that the Laird gave to my sister. It was in a locked box in a locked drawer, and nothing has been broken into."
"I keep the key with me at all times," Monique put in, "so I do not understand how this has happened."
"Tell me," the housekeeper asked, "you used to have a maid called Agnes, did you not?"
"Yes, but I disliked and distrusted her, so I dismissed her and did not replace her."
"Why did you dislike her?" She asked.
"Because several times when I came back to my room my clothes had been moved," she replied, "and one day I came in here and she was trying on one of my dresses. It was too small for her - it might have been funny if it were not so serious. I got rid of her at once. Do you think it was her?"
"I don't think she'd be clever enough to get into a locked jewelry box, no. Did she know where it was?"
"No. I put my own jewelry on, but it was mainly costume jewelry anyway."
There was silence for a moment.
"There is only one thing to do," Mrs Morrison stood up. She was rather a large woman with a big bust, iron gray hair and gimlet blue eyes that missed nothing, "we should call the Laird and ask his advice, then arrange a meeting with all the staff in the big hall. In the meantime, with your permission, Madams, I will interview the maid. Cooler heads may prevail if you are not there."
* * *
"Very wise, Mrs. Morrison," Juliette said, smiling at her. "I trust you have your own methods of getting her to keep her mouth shut?"
* * *
"I do, Madam," Mrs. Morrison replied grimly, "don't worry about that!"
44
Connor's Discovery
Mrs Morrison reported back quickly to the two sisters. She sent one of the housemaids to bring them downstairs then showed them into her own parlor-cum-office. There they saw a very tearful and shamefaced Agnes standing with her hands folded in front of her and her gaze pinned to the wall in front of her, avoiding everyone's eyes.
Monique took a seat but Juliette stayed standing. She was taller than Monique, especially with her hair piled high, as it was now, and she made a commanding figure.
"I have interviewed her, Madam," the housekeeper said heavily, "and she admitted what she has done, but I think she is truly sorry."
"And what possible use could such a letter be to you?" Juliette asked scornfully, "can you even read?"
Agnes's demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. She glared at Juliette with a look that was full of hatred. Her dark eyes were black with it.
"Aye, Mistress, I can read!" she spat, "well enough tae knaw what you -" she pointed an accusing finger at Monique, "hae been daein' wi' the Laird o' Dumbarton!" Out of the corner of her eye, Monique saw Mrs Morrison start as if she had been stung by a bee. "An' whit dae ye knaw of never haein' ony fine claes, only the worn-oot anes o' yer cousin who got them fae anither before them? How wid you like tae go tae bed wi' an empty belly? I worked my way up fae bein' a scullery maid tae a lady's maid an' then you came an' took it a' awa'! A' I wanted wis a wee dream, an' noo I'm back tae bein' a scullery maid again! For shame, Madam! For shame!"
* * *
"And where is the letter now?" Juliette demanded, "did you destroy it?"
Agnes's dark face took on a look of sly triumph.
"Oh, no," she said in a low, malicious voice, "I threw it into yer husband's bedroom while he wis asleep. If ye're quick ye might just get yer hauns on it afore he wakes."
Monique was so shocked that she staggered backward and hit the wall with her back, but Juliette was made of sterner stuff. She grabbed her sister's hand then they ran as fast as their legs would carry them along the miles of corridor to Connor's bedroom. Monique stood outside the door for a moment recovering
her breath and trying to calm herself.
"Be brave," Juliette encouraged, kissing her forehead. Monique knocked the door but there was no answer. As soon as she went in she could see that it was too late. Connor was sitting with her letter dangling from his hand. He had been out riding, she could see by his clothes, but he had been back for some time. His expression was one of pure rage, but there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He said only one word:
"Why?"
She sat down on the bed and sighed.
"Connor - I do not know," she said sadly, "it just happened. We looked at each other and - it was instant," she shrugged, "we just couldn't help it. I know that I am ungrateful, I know that I am treacherous, and I have done a very bad thing to a very good man who truly loves me. I would never have had this happen for the world, Connor, believe me. As you can see by the letter, we had called everything off, and I would have married you and tried to forget about him."
She felt as if she had stabbed him as he gazed at her with so much heartbreak in his eyes. He was angry because he had a broken heart, and he did not deserve this.
* * *
She put her hand on top of his but he snatched it away at once, and she could not blame him.
"What did he give you that I didn't, Monique?" Connor asked angrily, "I was doing the honorable thing and keeping my distance until our wedding night! He obviously had no such scruples - and neither did you! Was he a fabulous lover? Did you enjoy it?"
