XI
Minutes of the Kirk Session meeting at Letho parish church on 29th. May, 1808. Meeting opened with prayer.
Today the Minister preached on the text of St. Matthew, Chapter Twenty-Seven.
It was proclaimed that Miss Helen Lyall of St. Cuthbert’s parish in Edinburgh and Mr. Hugh Fairlie of this parish are to be married in St. Cuthbert’s parish on the eleventh of next month. Proclaimed for the second time.
The Session Clerk having writ to all the neighbouring parishes concerning the pauper woman who died in the Manse a week ago yesterday, he has now received replies from all the neighbouring parishes, and none knows of any missing woman. Sundry people of the parish came to see the body, but she was known to none. She was therefore buried on Monday in the kirkyard at the expense of the parish, and her goods are to be rouped tomorrow against the cost. The Sheriff’s officer is attending the case.
Compeared John Wilson and Ann James his wife, accused of antenuptial fornication. They once more admitted the charge and submitted themselves to discipline. Having been admonished and found to be conscious of their sin, they were again admitted to church privileges.
The poors’ funds were counted and distributed, and confirmed by the Minister.
Closed with prayer,
Ninian Jack,
Session Clerk.
‘And you’d swear you didn’t ken her, Ninian?’
‘Aye,’ said Jack, and closed the minute book.
XII
The roup was well attended on the Monday, though more from macabre curiosity than from any intention to buy. The thoughtful Mr. Baird was perhaps not the best person to auction the dead woman’s poor belongings with any great success, but the more outgoing Melville, who usually helped with such things, seemed convinced that some infection would spread to him, miasma-like, from the objects and it was decided amongst the elders that Baird, already seen by the parishioners as a seller of cloth, would be the next best person. The few pieces were taken from a kist in the church shortly before dinner, and spread about the green, at a safe distance from the goats, and any interested were free to examine them at their leisure. Robbins, Murray’s manservant, was in the village on business, and was called over to the centre of the milling group on the green by Blair, notable in yellow and peach.
‘Two eyes are better than one, my man,’ said Blair eagerly. ‘Have you time to stay? Or four are better than two, rather.’ He kept his voice low, and Robbins cast about him with caution before replying, quietly,
‘Were you looking for something in particular, sir?’
‘There is one thing I should like to see, at least,’ Blair said, squeezing his brows together as he looked for something specific amongst the belongings. ‘But in general, as I say, if you have time - ?’ He smiled the question at Robbins, who nodded briskly. ‘I am interested in who is here, and who buys what.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Blair knew Robbins well: he was an intelligent man, and could be relied upon to use his eyes and not his tongue, though he was a Letho man born and bred and must surely have family here? And friends? Blair caught his thoughts quickly before they scattered, and went to find Mr. Baird.
Baird was in conversation with a woman who was showing interest in the dead pauper’s boots.
‘Because,’ she was saying, ‘all the clothes are fine quality, but as she died in bed, I can at least be sure she didna die in the boots.’
‘She didna die in any of this,’ said Baird with a gesture round the green. ‘But consider: an ill-fitting gown can be adjusted, but an ill-fitting boot cannot.’
The woman sighed, and set the boot down.
‘Oh, you are right, as always, Mr. Baird. But there is a pair of sleeves over there I might as well bid for, if I had the money.’ She wandered off, and Blair approached Baird crabwise, with caution.
‘Good day to you, Mr. Baird.’
Baird bowed quickly, although he looked as if he could not quite call to mind the name of this gentleman guest of Mr. Murray’s.
‘Can I be of assistance to you, sir?’
‘Well, I was rather hoping – that is, I am not sure, and I cannot see the thing I am looking for amongst the belongings laid out here, and yet I understand – I was led to believe – that it did in fact exist.’
Baird cast a puzzled glance about him at the poor garments laid on the grass, and tried not to look suspicious.
‘And what, exactly, was that, sir?’ he asked, politely precise.
‘Specifically,’ said Blair, ‘a gold locket.’
‘Oh, that!’ said Baird, his expression clearing. He drew a small object from his coat pocket, and displayed it in one long hand. ‘We did not want to put it out, sir, in case it was lost or strayed, but it is for sale. Although we wondered, maybe, as it was the most valuable thing about her person, whether we should keep it from the roup and sell it in Cupar, where we might make more from it,’ he finished frankly.
Blair fumbled in his pockets for a moment, and drew out an Indian gold mohr which he tried to peer through, but finding it to be a coin and not the eyeglass he was expecting, he searched again and found at last the eyeglass. In the mean time, his gaze did not shift from the little locket in Baird’s hand.
The gold oval was not more than three-quarters of an inch across, and scarcely any longer. The reverse was blank, a little rubbed but not excessively so. The front had, as Mrs. Helliwell had described, one flamboyant initial, italically intricate. Blair tilted it back and forth but although it was the middle of the day the light was not good, and he could not quite make up his mind whether the letter was a K or an R. He pursed his lips and blew through them, thinking.
‘And within?’ he asked suddenly.
‘I beg your pardon, sir?’ Baird jumped.
‘Within the locket. Has anyone thought to open it?’
‘Oh, aye, sir.’ Baird could spot a customer. ‘It might not be wise to open it here, though, for all it is is a lock of hair, and it would be like to blow away.’
Blair stopped on the point of inserting his thumbnail in the catch, and reflected that it was sound advice.
‘How much do you expect to raise from this?’ he asked. The metal was thin but both locket and chain were undoubtedly gold, and the chain was pretty. Baird weighed it in his hand, and in his mind. He looked about him and saw Kenny, the schoolmaster, amongst the crowd.
‘I should say, perhaps, sir, fifteen shillings.’
‘And would it be possible – were I to offer you a pound for it now – would you be able to accept that?’
Baird had expected this. He called to Kenny and waved him over, going to meet him. There was a quiet debate between the two men, which ended with Kenny shrugging and nodding, and Baird returned with a smile.
‘I felt, sir, I should not come to the decision alone as I am here for the Kirk Session, but Mr. Kenny agrees with me that your offer is more than fair, and much more than anyone in the village is like to offer, so we should be happy to accept it.’
Blair beamed and shook hands with the man, then began the prolonged search for the money he had offered, which he at last found in his waistcoat pocket. He exchanged it for the locket, shook hands again, and bowed, then remembered something.
‘The man from the Sheriff’s office – has he seen this?’ he asked, tapping his pocket.
‘Oh, aye, sir, he took a drawing of it.’
‘Excellent. Thank you again, Mr. Baird.’
Baird waited until almost dinner time before he began the roup properly: the time he allowed was more than enough to view the few things, but he wished to let every interested party have their leisure around them. The Sheriff’s officer, leaning against a tree with his weight off his bad leg, watched discreetly. So did Robbins, who had had his directions from Blair. So did Blair himself, one hand protectively over his waistcoat pocket, greeting his acquaintances with enthusiasm. Mr. Fairlie lingered for a while, and his sons, arriving on the post from Edinburgh, took a moment before they wen
t home to look through the things and watch the first few lots auctioned. The doctor, Mr. Feilden, who had attended the dying woman, passed by on his way home and stayed a little, and Mr. George and his sister, setting out in their carriage for dinner outside the parish, called to their driver to halt for a moment. Mr. George got down, indeed, and strolled over to take a better look, but the gentry bid for nothing, any of them, and it took only half an hour before all the poor things were sold and the green slowly emptied again, the elders counted their money, and the strange woman’s belongings were dispersed.
Blair and Robbins walked back to Letho House together over the hill.
‘Such a pathetic collection of things,’ Robbins said in response to a remark from Blair. There was something about Blair that caused even the taciturn to speak. ‘She seems to have been so ordinary. So inconspicuous.’
‘She may well have been so in life, Mr. Robbins,’ Blair agreed. ‘But she was, or did, something to make her kenspeckle. Otherwise she would not, surely, have been murdered.’
Chapter Three
I
‘Mr. Kennedy asked me to inform you, sir, that he is feeling unwell today and will not be attending church this morning, at least.’ Robbins wiped the razor blade and reapplied it to Murray’s chin. Murray frowned.
‘What is the matter with him? Should I go and see him?’ he asked, when the razor was next away from his face.
Robbins looked down at the soap and said blandly,
‘I do not think such a visit would be necessary, sir, and I might go so far as to say it would be unwelcome. I fear Mr. Kennedy is suffering from the after-effects of the brandy you all drank last night.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Murray, ‘I had forgotten: he has a limited tolerance for liquor. Many’s the time at St. Andrews – but I probably should not tell you, Robbins, or you would think much the less of me. And is all else well in the household?’
‘Well, sir, the rain last night – we had the sandbags against the door again, but the water still gets in.’
Murray sighed.
‘This week,’ he said, ‘we shall try to make some progress with that problem.’
He rose, and picked up his neckcloth.
II
The minister preached from the fourth chapter of Job, one of his favourite books of the Bible. He took as his theme, with some apparent satisfaction, the statement that ‘they that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, reap the same’: Mr. George, sitting very straight in the Dures pew beside his sister, refused to look abashed and instead had a little half-smile on his face as he contemplated the minister. Mr. Helliwell, Murray was irreverently amused to notice, could not restrain himself from touching also on the verse from the same chapter concerning ‘houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust’. Not a few members of the congregation involuntarily pictured the manse at that moment.
The congregation had other matters to occupy them, too. The Cullessie pew was somewhat augmented this morning, and instead of the rather dour naval officer who had accompanied old Mrs. Kirk for a couple of Sabbaths, there were instead the two nieces, already much discussed by the Letho population. Even so, they formed the principal topic of conversation amongst the gossiping groups outside in the kirkyard after the service. Mrs. Chambers, the Letho housekeeper, shepherded her staff through the crowds, overhearing as she did so her two kitchen maids:
‘Very elegant!’ said Iffy, eyes wide at the Kirk sisters.
‘But the elder is entirely wrapped up! I believe she is wearing a pelisse and a cloak!’ said Effy, glancing past the wings of her respectable bonnet. There was a green ribbon on it.
‘But the younger one!’ insisted Iffy. ‘Her sleeves! All puffed up like that, in little rows like – like – flower buds on a thread!’
‘Oh,’ said Effy, ‘I was going to say like a string of sausages.’
‘Effy!’ said Mrs. Chambers, managing not to smile. ‘Hush, girl! Afternoons off can be taken away as easily as given!’ Effy was instantly subdued.
Mrs. Fairlie was presenting her sons to the Misses Kirk, while the Fairlie girls stood by, proud to be acquainted with the latest village celebrities. Mrs. Fairlie managed to break off from her monologue – an account of the way a log had fallen out of the fire that morning in her son Hugh’s direction – long enough to call Murray and Blair over to present them, too, to their visitors. There was plenty of time: their aunt’s various servants were taking a while to establish the old lady in her carriage, and the girls showed no particular inclination to hurry.
‘This is Mr. Murray of Letho,’ said Mrs. Fairlie, ‘and his house guest, Mr. Blair, from Edinburgh.’ The gentlemen bowed and the ladies curtseyed, and the younger, Miss Parnell Kirk, instantly attached herself to Murray. Blair courteously turned to Miss Virginia Kirk, and asked her how she did.
‘Absolutely dreadfully, if you must know, Mr. Blair,’ she drawled. ‘Our brother has deserted us, and we have scarcely any acquaintance in this place – but Mrs. Helliwell and Mrs. Fairlie have very kindly called, and we are pleased to meet you and Mr. Murray. But everything seems so very far away, and such an effort in this wintry weather.’
Murray, trying not to pay more attention to one sister than to the other, thought Miss Kirk possibly the handsomer of the two sisters, though her figure was hardly discernible amongst her copious wrappings. He began to think vaguely of onions, and turned again to Miss Parnell. She had become alive in the company of himself and John Fairlie. Her little rounded face was rosy and animated, her smile, readily bestowed, showed a captivating line of tiny perfect teeth, her eyes shone, and a handful of bluebells tucked into her bonnet band had probably shocked the sterner worshippers in church, but as a work of Creation could hardly be wholly condemned, quivering with every eager movement of her head. He looked back at Miss Kirk, languid under her weight of cloaks, and came to the conclusion that Miss Parnell would embarrass her sister by marrying first and giving Miss Kirk the green garten. He saw Blair take her under his wing, and was pleased.
III
Still inside the kirk, the elders gathered again around the stove, more out of habit than a desire for warmth, for the day had a smell of summer to it, and the stove had not been lit.
‘Have you heard anything yet from the Sheriff’s officer?’ Melville asked Ninian Jack.
‘Not at all,’ said the old man irritably. ‘It seems that the proper way of things is for us to tell him everything and for him to tell us just nothing at all. He said when he left that he had heard no account of strangers in the parish – apart from the dead woman herself, of course, and he had no account of her until she was found by Mrs. Helliwell.’
‘Well, anything else to be considered, then? I’d like to get back to my wife.’
‘Oh aye?’ said Kenny. ‘How does she do?’
‘Another wee lad,’ said Melville proudly, ‘and both of them grand. She’s like this every time it’s a boy, she’s that couped by the heels the last month, and as soon as the bairn sees the light of day she’s restored and at herself again in no time. See, what I reckon is –’
‘And the child’s grushie as well. That’s grand,’ said Watson abruptly. Melville turned in surprise but Watson’s face was drawn and grey and he seemed nervous. He looked up at Melville and then round at the others. ‘And before any of you says anything, aye, I ken.’
‘You ken what?’ asked Melville, behind with the news as usual.
‘Nan is up before us again,’ said Baird in explanation. ‘The usual,’ he added succinctly.
‘Again?’ Kenny exploded in disbelief. ‘Och, Watson, can you no keep her under control?’
‘She’s only my niece,’ Watson retorted. ‘My own daughters have always borne themselves perfectly well.’
‘But man,’ said Kenny, ‘it’s been every spring since she left the schoolhouse. She’s like a bloody rabbit!’
‘Mind your language and where you are,’ said Ninian Jack.
‘Like I said before,’ Watson insisted, ‘she�
��s my brother’s daughter, and since he died his widow’s paid no heed to any Watson in the upbringing of her children. And now Nan’s working at the Fairlie household I doubt even her mother can say much to her.’
‘I wonder will the Fairlies keep her,’ Baird asked generally. Watson groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Kenny watched him.
‘Aye, well, they can have had no doubts about her character before they took her on.’
‘Any notion who the father might be this time?’ asked Melville helpfully.
The speculations had become quite lively by the time the minister appeared to begin the meeting.
Minutes of the Kirk Session meeting held at Letho Parish Church on 5th. June, 1808. Meeting opened with prayer.
Today the minister preached on the text of Job, Chapter Four.
It was proclaimed that Miss Helen Lyall of St. Cuthbert’s parish in Edinburgh and Mr. Hugh Fairlie of this parish are to be married in St. Cuthbert’s parish on the eleventh of this month. Proclaimed for the third and last time.
The goods of the pauper woman buried last week were rouped on Monday last and made two pounds, one shilling and threepence sterling. The balance after the cost of the funeral was put to the poors’ funds.
It has come to the attention of the Kirk Session that Nan Watson, maiden of this parish, is with child out of wedlock. She was summoned to compear at the next meeting of the Kirk Session.
The poors’ funds were counted and distributed.
Closed with prayer,
Ninian Jack,
Session Clerk.
IV
Kennedy did not appear for dinner, and Murray reported to Blair, with a grin, that the only response to Murray’s cautious knock on the door of the bedchamber was a shocked snore.
An Abandoned Woman (Murray of Letho Book 4) Page 7
