Through the Mist: Restoration

by C. Renee Freeman

Benjamin exclaimed in shock, “This is terrible news indeed! I always believed a brighter future lay ahead and hoped that the cruelties of the past would not continue. I am naïve. I thought people would someday see the error of their ways.”

  He paused, clinging to the one glimmer of hope she offered. “Did you say this estate survives?” he asked. “Will Castle Fion survive?”

  “Yes,” she replied, turning to face him. “Remember? I told you that I toured these grounds the day before we found each other in the forest. Our guide, Mr. Douglas, and his wife owned the inn where we were staying.”

  He stared at her for some time. Tilly could see that he struggled with her story. Finally, he said, “I desperately want to believe the castle will stand more than two hundred years in the future. It is the reason I work so hard to preserve it.”

  “The castle remains, although some of the rooms have not been restored yet,” she said. “It takes a great deal of money to maintain a home like this.”

  “Aye, I know that all too well. I struggle daily with the task.”

  “Mr. Douglas told us your work saved the estate.” She placed the glass on the table. “You took care of the people. Your loyalty to them meant the survival of this castle, this land. I do not know what you are doing, but you must not stop. You are on the right path.”

  “I want your words to be the truth,” Benjamin whispered. “Can you understand why it is hard for me?”

  She nodded. “It is hard for me too.” She dared to squeeze his arm. “Can you understand that?”

  He smiled warmly at her. “Tell me more of this future in which you live,” he said, guiding her back to their seats by the fire.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Have they invented a faster means of transportation? You say you are from the former Colonies. Sea voyages are long. How did you travel here?”

  “Oh, yes, transportation is faster now – I mean, then. We flew here.” She caught his confused expression and giggled. “Not physically!” She could not resist flapping her arms. “We have machines called airplanes that fly like birds. They can hold lots of people – kind of like a ship in the sky. We can travel great distances in a matter of hours.”

  “Travel must be a great pleasure then. I dread boarding ships whenever I travel abroad. The journeys are long and extremely boring.”

  Tilly considered all the inconveniences of modern travel – lengthy security checks, overcrowded planes, cancelled flights. She guessed it was better than travelling on a boat for weeks, even months, at time. “It has its disadvantages too, as all travel does,” she said.

  “Pray, tell me more.”

  She looked at all the books stuffed into the bookshelves. “We have devices that can hold this entire library’s worth of knowledge many times over. Some devices are smaller than a piece of parchment.”

  “Amazing.”

  “It is. We also have something called the Internet. I am not sure how to explain it. It is a worldwide web of knowledge. You can search it for information about any topic.”

  “Would it know about time travel?”

  She glanced at him and realized he was teasing her. “Yes, smarty pants, it would, although time travel is more of a concept than actual practice,” she said.

  “I miss other things, though,” she sighed. “I miss being able to take a bath every day because I don’t need a team of maids to haul hot water up the stairs. I miss toilets. I miss cold, clean water.” She groaned. “Oh, the food – pizza, mochas, chocolate.”

  “I did not realize you were so unhappy here.”

  “I’m not unhappy – well, not completely. Those things are all material. If I learned anything from my family’s accident, it is that you should treasure people more than possessions.”

  “Do you miss Beth?”

  Tilly felt a small pain in her heart when she thought of her best friend. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I wish I could ask her what I should do. I have tried to figure out how to go back to my time, but I haven’t found a way. If I could just talk with her, maybe she could help me understand what happened. Maybe she could – “

  Benjamin looked expectantly at her. “What could she do, Tilly?” he asked.

  “I have spent the last year feeling lost, as if I would never find my purpose in life,” she admitted. “I felt like a shell of a human being. And, now, I feel alive again. I love teaching your children. When I wake up in the morning, I don’t feel depressed. I am excited to see what will happen in the new day. Maybe Beth could tell me why I feel this way. Why did I have to travel to 1801 to feel complete?”

  Benjamin rose from his seat and lifted Tilly from hers. He wrapped his arms around her. “I cannot tell you what Beth would say,” he whispered. “I can only speak from my heart. I am happy you are here, Tilly Munro.”

  He placed a light kiss upon her lips. “The hour grows late. You should go to bed.” Chuckling, he added, “You will need your strength tomorrow when you resume your lessons with the boys.”

  Tilly did not want to leave his embrace. She was confused by his little kiss and profession of being happy about her presence. What the hell does that mean? she wanted to know. She was afraid of the answer. “You are right,” she said, reluctantly slipping from his arms. “Perhaps it is time for bed.”

  With that, she bade him goodnight and headed for the door. She paused when he spoke.

  “Tilly, please know that I wish very much to believe you,” he said. “It is very hard for me. For now, can you be content that I have allowed you to teach my children? I am trying to open my mind to what you have told me.”

  She looked at him. She could see his struggle but could not forget her own. “I speak the truth. I am trapped here and have no idea if I will ever return home,” she said. She shook her head. “Instead of trying to open your mind, you should open your heart. What does it say, Benjamin?”

  He joined her at the doorway. He placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “You will be safe here for as long as you want to stay,” he promised.

  Her brow furrowed in confusion, she asked angrily, “What the hell is that supposed to mean - ‘for as long as I wish to stay?’ Do you think I am having a delightful holiday and will soon discover how to get home?” She huffed. “Didn’t I just tell you I have no idea how to return?”

  She banged her fist against the closed door. She did not know which was more infuriating – that he did not believe her or that she desperately wanted him to believe her. To her surprise, she realized his opinion meant a great deal to her. He was her only support, her only friend. What would become of her if his good opinion turned sour? Equally important, why did she even care about his ‘good opinion?’ Frustrated by the realization, she flung open the door and raced from the room.

  ∞

  Benjamin considered chasing after her but decided against it. Instead, he went to his study. Taking a seat behind his desk, he opened a ledger and attempted to push Tilly from his mind.

  An hour later, Iain MacIver entered the study, now dark save the light from the fireplace. Benjamin still sat behind his desk, lost in thought and sipping a glass of whisky.

  Iain spotted the decanter on the desk and helped himself to a glass. “What troubles you?” he asked, taking a seat in a chair on the other side of the desk. “You look as if the weight of the world rests upon your shoulders.”

  “Have you heard we have a new governess?” Benjamin asked. “As usual, the boys disobeyed me. Allan joined Mrs. Munro when she tutored her maid in private, and the other boys have followed her around the estate. My efforts to shelter my family from her have failed.”

  “Aye, they usually do. It is difficult to shelter those who do not think they need protection.”

  “What should I do? I am no closer to knowing who that woman is than the day I brought her to the castle. She does not seem dangerous. She does not appear to be a spy. Can I trust her?”

  “It is too soon to fully trust her. However, contact with your family cannot be
avoided. I trust you have taken suitable precautions?”

  “Aye. The maid was instructed to stay with Mrs. Munro whenever she teaches the children.”

  “Do you trust the maid?”

  “Mary liked her, and she was always an excellent judge of character.”

  Iain nodded in agreement. “I fear Mrs. Munro is not the only matter of business we should discuss this evening.” He took a deep breath. “The excise men have been in the northern part of our fair lands.” Before Benjamin could voice concern, he added, “I have resolved the situation. Rest assured, they left satisfied.”

  “How many pounds of flesh did they take this time?” Benjamin asked bitterly.

  “Slightly more coin than usual and an extra barrel of whisky. They seemed happy with the arrangement, and that is all that matters.”

  “This is the second time they have visited us this month. Are you concerned?”

  “Any time an excise man pays us a visit, I am concerned. I have sent men to other operations in the Highlands. Soon, we will know if the Crown has increased their patrols or if this is an isolated incident with a particular group.”

  “Thank you, Iain. I do not want to jeopardize our little business. It is too profitable.”

  “I have asked some of the men to be extra vigilant for another reason.”

  That statement got Benjamin’s full attention. “What have you heard?” he asked. “Have you learned from whence the lass comes? Is she in league with the excise men?”

  “No. I have learned something more disturbing.”

  “Well, out with it, man,” he said, flinging his hands in frustration. “What wickedness threatens us now?”

  “Richard MacDonald was seen in a village two days’ ride from here.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “He inquired about the Campbell family. He asked about Mary and the children. Apparently, news of her death had not reached the MacDonalds.”

  “I am sure he is on his way here to condole with me.”

  “Yes, the MacDonalds were always known for their prodigious care for their fellow man,” Iain replied sarcastically. “It warrants concern. If you will recall, the MacDonald was most aggrieved with the agreement between his father and yours.”

  Benjamin refilled his glass. “I do not need this trouble now,” he said. He downed the fiery liquid in one gulp. “I have enough worries.”

  “We have friends in Deoch. We will know if he is close.”

  “Pray that we do not learn too late, Iain. Post a twenty-four watch along the castle grounds.”

  “Already done.”

  “Good.”

  “There is one last piece of news,” Iain said, sighing. “It seems Mrs. Donnelly remains in Deoch. My source tells me she talks of her return to Castle Fion. She is under the impression you will send for her.”

  Benjamin massaged the aching muscles of his neck. “Tell your friend he should advise her against false hope. The woman was given sufficient funds to find her way back to London. She should leave.”

  Iain guffawed. “Oh, Benjamin, you have a mighty effect on women.” Wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks, he teased, “She pines for you. It will take more than a bit of friendly advice to be rid of her.”

  “Deal with this problem, Iain,” he commanded. He rose from his chair and moved toward the doorway to his bedchamber. “I do not have the energy to deal with a lovelorn woman.”

  Even through the closed door, he could hear his friend’s laughter.

  Twenty Four

  Mrs. Maureen Donnelly sat at a grubby table in the public house. She was neither pretty nor rich, so she did not fear being approached by any of the male patrons. At least I am honest about my situation, she thought sullenly.

  The bloom of her youth was wasted on her late husband, a man who promised he was a prosperous merchant and was, in reality, a lowly clerk. Life with him erased the rosy glow on her cheek and replaced it with a sallow complexion on her perpetually frowning countenance. Her brown hair and eyes seemed even drearier with each passing year. If she did not find her way soon, she knew her prospects were very, very sad indeed.

  She sipped a chipped mug of weak tea and watched the door, waiting eagerly for the man to arrive. Maureen heard about him from another person in Deoch. She hoped he would pay a handsome sum for the information she possessed. She desperately needed the money. She wanted a fresh start, far away from this God-forsaken place. She intended to book a passage to America, and the funds Benjamin Campbell gave her would not be enough.

  The door swung wide. The tall man in the doorway momentarily blocked the light from the setting sun. He made his way to the bar and flung a coin onto the countertop as he collected a tankard of ale. Spotting Maureen, he took a seat at a table directly behind her, his back to her. “Are you the governess?” he asked quietly without turning his head.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He finished his ale in one thirsty gulp. “Meet me behind the stable in five minutes,” he said. He tossed a gold coin to her when he walked by her table.

  She greedily grabbed the coin before anyone saw it. She continued to nonchalantly sip her tea. She wanted to race after him but knew that would attract attention. Finally, she decided enough time had passed. She delicately patted the corners of her mouth with a lacy handkerchief and straightened her bonnet. She slid from the chair and left the establishment. As she walked toward the stables, she made sure no one followed her. One can never be too careful, she thought.

  Maureen found the man sitting on a bale of straw behind the stable. He was partially obscured by shadow, yet she could tell he was a filthy mess. He wore a tattered shirt that had likely been white at one time. His trousers were dark brown and rough spun. Bits of straw, leaves, and dried dirt clung to the worn fabric and were scattered about what little hair he had on his head. His thick beard probably crawled with lice, judging from the way he furiously scratched it.

  “I heard you want information about Benjamin Campbell and his family,” she stated without preamble.

  “Aye,” he said, retreating further into the shadows. “I am looking for someone who knows the lay of the place, who can tell me something about their habits.”

  She smirked. “I can help you – for a price.”

  He laughed dryly. He tossed a heavy leather bag to her. “That payment is for the information,” he said. He shook another bag so she could hear the coins inside. He flung it at her. “This bag is for your silence.”

  Maureen easily caught the bags and suppressed a smile. If they contained as much gold as she guessed, she would have plenty of money to book her passage. She dared to peek inside the bags and gasped when she saw the gleaming contents. She might even have enough money to open a little shop.

  She was so focused on the money that she did not notice the man was now standing in front of her. When she caught whiff of his soured body, she looked up and took a step back.

  He held a shiny dirk in front of her face. “Be warned, lass. I will slit your throat from ear to ear if you betray me,” he said, a lethal promise in his voice.

  She gulped involuntarily. “I hate the Campbells,” she hissed. “You need not worry about betrayal.”

  The former governess slipped the money into her bag and retrieved a folded piece of parchment. “I made a map of the rooms as well as notes about Benjamin Campbell’s schedule,” she said, offering the parchment to him. “Do you require additional information?”

  He took the map from her and tucked it into the cracked leather sporran at his waist. He motioned to a bale of straw. “Aye, let us talk further, Mrs. Donnelly.”

  ∞

  The next morning, Richard MacDonald crouched low in the shrubs of the forest. If the former governess’ information was accurate, Benjamin Campbell should be making his way toward Castle Fion’s stable for his morning ride.

  He sighed as he shifted his weight. His knees ached. He must push past the pain and remember his purpose. He must not forget the suff
ering his family had experienced at the hands of the Campbells. For centuries, the MacDonalds and Campbells feuded. It became far worse during the Rising, when they killed his people in their villages and on the battlefield at Culloden. They followed the Crown’s orders like the lapdogs they were after the Jacobites were defeated. They stole MacDonald lands and reduced his family’s holdings to a crumbling castle and a few acres of land not fit for man or beast.

  The final insult came at the hands of Malcolm and Benjamin Campbell. Richard ground his teeth in fury as he recalled the sight of his brother and sister’s lifeless bodies. Even after all these years, the image was burned into his brain. He would never forget.

  Suddenly, a tall man strode purposefully toward the stable. His long auburn hair was unbound. His clothes were casual, definitely suited for riding. It seemed to Richard that the man moved with great ease, as if he had not a care in the world.

  That must be the bastard, he thought, closing watching Benjamin. Reflexively, his hand clinched the hilt of the MacDonald blade tucked into his belt.

  Benjamin laughed. He turned and stopped. A woman came into view. Richard could not hear what they were saying, but it did not matter. His focus was solely upon Benjamin.

  Richard watched them walk toward the stable. They seemed to be having a lovely conversation. Enjoy yourself while you can, lad, he thought grimly, for the hour of your death draws nigh.

  Richard slowly rose and crept into the forest. The woman must be the new governess. What was her name again? Tilly Munro? Mrs. Donnelly did not have the pleasure of personally meeting the woman but knew a great deal about her. Apparently, there was a rumor that the woman might be more than a simple servant.

  He did not care if Benjamin was having sexual relations with the new governess or any other woman, for that matter. He was encouraged to see, though, that Mrs. Donnelly’s thorough knowledge of the man’s habits was accurate. Benjamin appeared at the stable exactly when she indicated. Richard hoped the other information she provided was just as sound.

  He carefully made his way deeper into the forest, heading for his makeshift camp. He was tired and uncomfortable in the shirt and trousers he wore. He looked forward to shedding the garments and donning his kilt as soon as he reached the camp. He would always prefer his kilt to these blasted English garments. The Act of Proscription had made generations of Scots forget their heritage. Not him. He would always follow the old ways.