The Tobacco Lords Trilogy

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  ‘Aye, no’ forgetting our ain colleagues, Willie. Poor George Carmichael and Archibald Coats. It’s terrible times we’re living in. And they’ve burned and plundered the village of Lesmahagow I hear—especially the clergyman’s house. It was under that reverend gentleman’s direction that the village folk attacked and made prisoner Macdonald of Kinlochmoidant. Apparently he was traversing the county unattended. The Prince had sent him on some mission to the Western Isles.’

  ‘They would have burned and plundered Glasgow as well, Glendinny, had it not been for Cameron of Lochiel.’

  ‘True, there’s always something to thank God for. No doubt all the churches will have special services of praise and thanks-giving for our safe delivery.’

  ‘Och, aye. Aye. Will you have a dram, Glendinny?’

  ‘I’ll no’ say no.’

  ‘Gudewife!’ roared Halyburton, as if she were in the next room instead of at his elbow. ‘We’ll have a dram.’

  ‘Then I’d better hash back upstairs to Murn. We’ve been together for many a long year and I’m partial to saying a warm goodbye to friends when they tak’ their leave.’

  Halyburton raised his glass, now dutifully filled by his gudewife.

  ‘To the Lady Glendinny. May she have a safe journey to the other side.’

  ‘To oor Murn.’ The Earl gulped over his whisky, smacked his lips in appreciation and rose to take his leave.

  ‘You’ll be wanting a woman’s help with the funeral,’ Letitia said. ‘A man’s no good at organising such things on his own.’

  ‘Weel, weel, Letitia, I suppose you’re right again.’

  ‘I’ll come upstairs with you and find out what’s wanted.’

  On the way up the narrow tower she walked with dignity, holding up her skirts to protect them from the filth, and on reaching Lady Glendinny’s bedroom she signalled Phemy to quit the room and settled herself on a chair close to Lady Glendinny’s head. Lady Glendinny’s long waxy face could only be distinguished from the pillow by the dark hollows of her eyes and mouth lying open.

  Letitia nodded.

  ‘I see you’re still with us, Murn.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Murn, but feebly, unable to lift her sagging chin.

  ‘I was wondering about the funeral arrangements. Was there anything special you wanted in the way of food or would you rather just leave it to me?’

  ‘I dare say you’ll manage fine, Letty.’

  ‘And would you like brandy and claret?’

  Murn’s eyes widened.

  ‘Whisky.’

  ‘Tuts, woman, I meant as well as the whisky.’

  Murn relaxed again.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘And would you have us in mittens or muffs?’

  Murn’s lips closed, then sagged open again.

  ‘Muffs,’ said Letitia. ‘Very well. High dress, of course. Don’t worry, Murn, we’ll do you proud. Oh, and when you get to the other side you find old Jock Currie and just you tell him how lucky he’s been to miss all this terrible business with the rebels. Tell him even their horses have been eating off us and we’re all but bankrupt.’

  ‘Letty, the way I feel noo,’ Murn whispered, ‘I can’t see myself tramping all over heaven looking for auld Jock Currie.’

  ‘Tuts, you’ll be fine once you get there. Could you do with another sup to help you on your way?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll send Phemy back in. Now you’re no’ to worry, Murn. Phemy’ll look after the gudeman once you’ve gone.’

  She swished away, hands clasped neatly under her bosom, and to Phemy who was waiting outside she commanded:

  ‘Mistress Phemy, Lady Glendinny fancies another sup before joining her Maker. Hurry through.’

  Then she swept downstairs to begin preparing the funeral food.

  Lavelle had to leave early to report to the Prince and to attend to the mustering of his company, but before he left with his fellow officers he tried once more to reason with Annabella.

  ‘Mademoiselle, it is madness.’

  She laughed. ‘I agree, sir. It is a mad, exciting, fascinating adventure and I cannot wait to get started.’

  ‘You will regret it.’

  ‘Regret being with you? Impossible!’

  ‘But you cannot be with me all the time. I would not be so keenly concerned for your safety if you could.’

  ‘There will be precious moments. There will be nights when I will lie in your arms. That will be worth any inconvenience.’

  He sighed. ‘Inconvenience? O, Mon Dieu!’

  ‘Gracious heavens, if you’re going, go. You will depress me with your long face. I will look to myself, never fear. And I’ll have the servants.’

  ‘Your fierce papa is not going to be happy about losing his daughter, his servants, his horses and his pistols. Ah, mademoiselle, such courage. One has to admire it.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll leave him Big John. I’ll take Nancy. The little tramp Regina might be useful too. Nancy speaks well of her.’ Suddenly she swooped her arms sideways and dropped into a low curtsy. ‘Au revoir, Monsieur Capitaine Lavelle.’ Her eyes twinkled up at him. ‘Bon voyage!’

  He made elegant circles in front of him with his hands, then bowed and backed towards the door.

  ‘Mademoiselle Ramsay. Enchanté!’

  After he had gone, Annabella skipped through to the kitchen window to watch Big John lead the horses from the stable. Lavelle and the other officers mounted up, but she had only eyes for Lavelle, looking very grand in his cocked hat and jackboots and his sword by his side. Immediately he was seated in his usual relaxed loose-limbed manner she raced through to the bedroom again to watch for him to come cantering from the close in Saltmarket, round the Cross and along Trongate Street. After he had disappeared from view she called on Nancy and when the servant appeared she clapped her hands in excitement.

  ‘I’m ready now, Nancy, are you?’

  ‘Mistress, one thing I’m not ready for and that’s my grave.’

  ‘Gracious heavens, what cowardly talk is this? We’re setting out on an adventure. You ought to be uncommonly delighted.’

  She was the absolute limit, Nancy thought. What the hell was there to be delighted about?

  ‘Well, I’m not.’

  ‘Hell and damnation, Nancy, don’t provoke me. If we don’t get away soon Papa will be back from the tavern and Big John will have returned from the errand I sent him on. Where is Regina? Have you told her she’s going?’

  Nancy shook her head. ‘I was teaching her how to do the ironing yesterday and again this morning. She’s slow but she’s determined.’

  ‘Oh, to hell with the ironing. You said she’d make a good servant and I need good servants, so tell her to put on her cloak, we’re setting out on a mighty important journey.’

  ‘We?’

  Annabella stamped her foot. ‘Yes, we. But if you absolutely refuse to accompany me then I’ll go on my own and to the devil with you all.’ Her voice broke. ‘But I never dreamed you, you of all people, Nancy, would desert me and let me down.’

  Nancy rolled her eyes. ‘Och, all right.’

  Immediately Annabella brightened and jumped up and down and clapped her hands.

  ‘Oh, Nancy, what fun, what fun!’

  ‘I’ll go and put the bags on the horses but I still think you’re taking far too much. What do you need with stays, ornaments, comfit-boxes, fans, purses, patch-boxes …’

  ‘Fiddlesticks, I know what I need. Get the girl to help you, and hurry. Hurry!’

  She did a pirouette around the room, then snatched up her cloak and whirled it around her shoulders. Underneath the blue cloak she wore a crimson velvet gown with small panniers because it was morning. In her luggage she had packed a bell-hoop, which was a sort of petticoat, shaped like a bell and made with cane for framework. This was not quite full dress and could only be worn in the afternoon. For full-dress or high-dress she had a full-size hoop which she was sure was the most wide in the whole of Scotlan
d. She had packed her green silk, her purple satin, her flowered silk, her scarlet taffeta, her yellow voile. To wear with them she had silk stockings and buckled shoes, and green and blue and scarlet ribbons for her hair, and the same colours for garters all with gold and silver tassels. And, of course, she had her long cherry and white striped plaid which was very elegant and useful.

  She gave a last admiring stare in her pier glass. How beautiful she looked with her rose-petal cheeks and lapis-lazuli eyes and her hair padded high and curled and powdered and ornamented with beads. How neat she looked in her long-bodiced dress. She gave a sigh of satisfaction, then blowing herself a goodbye kiss she sallied forth.

  Downstairs in the back close Nancy had the horses ready. Beside her stood a bewildered-looking Regina. Annabella leapt up unaided on to her horse. Nancy mounted and hauled Regina up to sit behind her. Then Annabella kicked her horse’s flanks, gave a yell of encouragement, and they went galloping off into the Saltmarket, then along the Trongate they sped with people flurrying and jumping away from their path.

  16

  ‘Brothers and sisters, hear what I say,

  There’s a sister departed this verra day,

  The guid Lady Glendinny has gone to her rest,

  We’ll miss her, of course, but the Lord knows best.

  Her lyke-wake’s tonight,

  And her burying’s tomorrow,

  I’m sure you’ll all share in the guid Earl’s sorrow,

  So come to Locheid’s Land,

  At the hour of three,

  And join wi’ him in the drinking spree.’

  MOOTHY MCMURDO went round every street ringing his bell as if he were taking the leading part in some glorious festival. He was carefree and brimming over with energy because the rebel army had quitted the town. More than once he had been manhandled and threatened because of his plain-spoken announcements and his stubborn habit of bawling out references to ‘The Pretender’ instead of to ‘The Prince’. This undignified and rough treatment had shocked him. He was a man whose fitness for his job had never been questioned. Now he sang out:

  ‘Another lady’s departed but in a different way,

  And where she is exactly is difficult to say,

  Mistress Annabella Ramsay has her faither worried,

  And all her freends are awfi’ flurried.

  She’s galloped off into danger and strife,

  And the meenister’s frettin’ for he’s lost a wife.

  Did ever ye hear such a stramash in your life,

  And she’s taken twa servants with her tae,

  And her faither’s horses I dare say.’

  Gav and Quin were coming down the High Street when they heard McMurdo and Gav tugged at Quin’s sleeve in distress.

  ‘Quin, Quin!’

  ‘Oh-ho, oh-ho!’ Quin cocked his head and scratched his torn ear. ‘Now for some fun, eh?’

  ‘Does that mean she’s galloped off with Regina?’

  ‘Could be, Gav. Could verra well be. Auld Nick said to Quin, “Quin,” he says, says he, “that Mistress Annabella’s a devil o’ a woman.” ’

  Gav’s lips trembled.

  ‘She’s wicked all right if she’s stolen Regina. First my mammy and now my sister. I never knew anybody could be as wicked as that.’

  ‘Weel, ye know noo.’

  ‘And you said you’d find my mammy and you haven’t and now Regina’s gone.’

  ‘Patience, laddie, patience. If Quin said he’d find your mammy, he will.’

  ‘I’m going up to that house to see for myself.’

  ‘See what, eh?’

  ‘I’m going to get to know from Maister Ramsay where Regina is.’

  ‘All you’re liable to get is a punch in the ear. Quin knows that maister. He can be a devil when he’s angry and he’ll be fine and angry just now, eh?’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m not frightened of him.’ Gay stamped towards Ramsay’s close in the Saltmarket with fists clenched tightly under long sleeves. ‘He shouldn’t have let Mistress Annabella kidnap my sister if he’s the maister.’

  ‘Oh-ho, it’s no’ called kidnapping when they kind o’ folk do it to your kind o’ folk.’

  ‘Why not?’ Gav stared up at Quin in astonishment.

  ‘Because they’ve got money, eh? Auld Nick always says, “Quin,” he says, says he, “money changes the complexion o’ things.” And what’s more, it’s grand protection. Gather as much as you can around you, lad.’

  Gav marched into the close and up the stair, with Quin jogging along beside him, still chattering.

  ‘So until Gav and Quin have a wee bit sillar they’re no’ really in a position to go spiering a rich man like Maister Ramsay, eh? And Maister Ramsay’s no’ going to waste his time talking to the likes o’ Gav and Quin.’

  Gav reached up and tirled the door-pin. His face was grey under freckles which had faded to a jaundiced hue. Quin’s head fell to one side to display his grotesque swollen face and he doubled forward and leaned a hand down on Gav’s shoulder in the way that he did when they were begging. They waited like this for the door to open. When it did, Big John glowered down at them.

  ‘Away with you. You’ll get nothing here.’

  Gav spoke up.

  ‘He doesn’t want anything. I want to speak to Maister Ramsay.’

  ‘Oh, do you, you cheeky wee devil? Weel, he’s no’ here. He’s at his counting-house doon at the Briggait.’

  With that, Big John banged the door in their faces.

  ‘Come on, Quin,’ said Gav.

  ‘You’re no’ going to brave the Briggait, eh?’

  ‘What’s an old counting-house to be afraid of?’

  ‘Oh-ho, now for some fun, eh?’

  Quin scuttled along beside Gav, down Saltmarket Street until they came to the narrow Briggait which cut off Saltmarket before it reached the Green. Briggait Street looped round to join the foot of Stockwell Street and the river at the Great Bridge. One of the oldest tenements in the city occupied the whole frontage between the New and Back Wynds of Briggait Street and it had four crow-step gables to the street and moulded chimney-stalks. In the area there were also the town houses of many old merchant families, like the Campbells of Blythswood. There was the residence of Douglas of Mains and Her Grace the Duchess of Douglas; of the Campbells of Silvercraigs (in whose house Oliver Cromwell had lodged); of Crawford of Crawfordsburn, of the Honourable John Aird, of Bailies Robert and George Bogle, of the Reverend Mr Blackadder, of Provost Cochrane, of the Dean of Guild Bogle, and also of Sir Robert Pollock of Pollock.

  But the most imposing of all the buildings in Briggait Street was the Merchants’ Hall, at whose meetings the Dean of Guild took precedence over the Provost and who, according to the Letter of Guildry, ‘shall always be a Merchant and a Merchant Sailor and Merchant Venturer …’ The Merchants’ Hall had a curious steeple which boasted three battlements one on top of the other and a clock of molten brass. On top of the steeple there was a spire which was mounted with a ship of finely gilded copper instead of a weathercock.

  Gav barely gave it a glance, he was so intent on his search for Merchant Ramsay’s counting-house. Quin knew where it was but was refusing to co-operate in the hope of deterring Gav. In fact, when Gav did find the place, Quin leapt in front of him in great agitation and spread out his arms.

  ‘Gav, Gav! Quin canna let you go in. They’ll fling you in the Tolbooth and you’ll no’ like it. Quin knows. Quin’s been there.’

  But Gav suddenly darted beneath his arm and Quin was left doing a distracted dance, hair and coat-tails flying, before deciding in desperation to dash in after him.

  Inside the counting-house there was, as he expected, a terrible stramash. Counting-house clerks were shouting indignantly and furiously struggling to restrain a kicking, punching, biting Gav. Joining in the shouting and struggling, Quin added to the noise and confusion and then Ramsay burst out from another room and bawled above everybody else. ‘What the deevil’s going on?’

 
Everybody, including Gav and Quin, tried to tell him and he roared at them again.

  ‘Will ye all hold your tongues?’ And when he got silence at last he said to Gav: ‘You, sir, have I no’ seen you somewhere before?’

  ‘First my mammy and now my sister. It’s wicked, that’s what it is, and it doesn’t make any difference if you’ve got money or not.’

  Ramsay eyed him for a minute.

  ‘Aye, you’ve got spunk if you’ve nothing else.’

  ‘Where’s my sister Regina?’

  ‘She’ll be with oor Annabella, no doubt.’

  ‘Kidnapped!’ Gav shouted and began struggling again. ‘And kidnapping by a mistress is just as bad as kidnapping by Egyptian sorners. You can’t fool me.’ His voice broke. ‘I can read and write and count and speak Latin.’

  And before anyone could do anything he wriggled free and raced out of the building with Quin skittering excitedly after him.

  Ramsay called out, but too late, and he returned thoughtfully to his room, ignoring the profuse apologies of his clerks.

  Outside Gav and Quin cut through the Goose Dubs and up Stockwell Street and did not stop running until, gasping for breath, they reached the Trongate. Quin clutched at his chest in choking harassment.

  ‘Quin’s never been in such a terrible stramash for years.’

  ‘I hate them Ramsays,’ said Gav.

  ‘Hating tobacco merchants is no’ going to do Gav or Quin any good. Tobacco merchants run this toon.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘You’re a terrible childer. What’s Quin to do with you, eh?’

  They walked along Trongate Street in silence for a few minutes, then Quin said: ‘They’ve ships as well.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The tobacco merchants. Quin knows where the ships are.’

  ‘At the Broomielaw?’

  ‘Quin’s cleverer than you, eh? Quin knows only wee cobbles can come up to the Broomielaw. There’s no’ enough water there for big sailing ships.’

  ‘Where are the big ships, then?’ Gav’s interest made him forget his distress.