'I can't do it,' I lowered the pistol. 'Oh God help me, I can't do it.'
'You don't have to.' Mungo was at my side. 'You have won. You have broken your tormentor and removed the evil memory.' He took the pistol from me and uncocked it. 'This man and his friends no longer have power over you. You are in charge of your life and your mind.'
I watched Findhorn lying sobbing in the thorns. Near naked and torn, he no longer looked dangerous. He only looked pitiful. Whatever he had been, he had never been a man. The circle had been closed, the cards turned, and I felt empty.
Chapter Twenty
We were alone. Macfarlane and MacGregor had temporarily taken charge of Findhorn, and his cronies and Mungo had given Marie and the young girl something to make them sleep. I leaned back in Mungo's chair and allowed the warmth of the fire soak into my battered body. Opposite me, Mungo nursed his glass. I watched the firelight play with the red claret.
'Well, Mungo,' I said. 'We've had some wild times.' I waited for him to say something although in truth I did not know what he could say.
'We have, Dorothea,' he said. 'And if things were different,' he paused and repeated, 'if things were only different.'
I prompted him. 'If things were only different, Mungo, what?'
The smile lit up his ugly, battered face. 'If I had money or the hope of making it, I would be looking for a woman very like you.'
I felt my heart-beat increase. 'And if you had money, Mungo, and you found a woman very like me, what on earth would you do with her?'
'I would ask her to marry me,' Mungo said. 'You know that I love you.'
It was the answer I hoped he would give, and now I must crush him, for the sake of his future happiness. 'A woman like me could never agree to marry you,' I fought the catch in my voice.
'I am aware of that,' Mungo spoke slowly. He drank his glass of claret and poured another, offering to do the same for me. He looked competent there, this stocky, caring, dependable man.
'You know my history,' I looked directly into his face. 'What respectable man would ever want to marry a woman who was forced by a gang of other men?' I forced out the word, being deliberately brutal. 'Who would wish to live with that knowledge?'
Mungo's chin lifted in what might have been defiance. 'I know your history,' he said, 'and I have seen you recover from the depths to fight back against a life that used you badly.'
I looked away. No respectable man would want anything to do with a woman such as me.
'If I had money, I would be proud to have a wife like you,' Mungo said. 'Any man would. But, alas I have none, and I will not expect any woman to immure herself in the depths of the countryside as a poor doctor's wife.'
I ignored the financial references. They were irrelevant. I had to be even more brutal to shake this man's dreams. 'I was raped,' I reminded. 'Many times, by four or five men, and I lost my daughter.'
I waited for the disgust and the withdrawal, the polite protestations of friendship that would fade as soon as we parted. In other words, I waited for the reaction I expected from the type of men with whom I had mixed all my life.
'I know,' Mungo said. 'And I feel deep sympathy for you, Dorothea. It was not your fault, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it.'
I nodded. 'It still happened,' I said. 'I was violated. I was contaminated.'
'They attacked you,' Mungo said. 'I wish you could find a man who deserves you.'
'I have found a man like that.' I said, suddenly forceful as I met Mungo's gaze. I finished my claret and passed over the empty glass for a refill. I needed French courage more than I had when I faced Findhorn.
'Ah, the bold Captain Rogers,' Mungo nodded. 'He is a good man.' I hoped I heard jealousy in his voice. Trying to push Mungo away was cruel-hard. I did not wish to hurt him.
A blackbird called outside, the notes as melancholic as a sunset, the call as beautiful as any orchestra and more poignant than the most exquisite piece of literature. I did not reveal my final secret to this pig-headed, ugly and utterly beautiful man. I could not tell him that ever since I had arrived back in Scotland, I had been living a lie. As soon as he knew, our friendship would end, and I did not want that. I wished to savour what we had as long as I could, although it was a house of deceiving cards built on sand. I had dealt some of my hand, and he had countered; now I only held the joker.
'That's unusual,' Mungo glanced out of the window. 'There is a coach drawing up outside the house.'
I looked. Lady Pluscarden's mulberry coach slid to a silent halt on the road, with the two footmen as handsome as ever as they opened the door and the driver bending to talk to his horses.
My heart began to patter again.
'What on earth does Lady Pluscarden want with me?' Mungo shook his head.
'Maybe she has heard how good a physician you are.' I tried to sound amusing.
The second that Lady Pluscarden emerged, one footman closed the coach door, and the other approached the house. I saw Her Ladyship's gaze rest on him for a second and shook my head. She must have been at least seventy yet was still full of fun and mischief.
'Doctor Hetherington!' Lady Pluscarden met his bow with a shake of her head. 'Oh, stand up man; I've no time for that nonsense today. I come bearing tidings of great joy, rather like the three wise men except there is only one of me and I'm neither wise nor a man.'
I stood up, curtsied despite Lady Pluscarden's words and watched as she sat in Mungo's seat.
'Indeed I am only a stupid old woman,' she eyed Mungo up and down. 'You have a comfortable house, Doctor.'
'It is a poor place for you to visit, Your Ladyship.'
'That's surely great nonsense, sir.' Lady Pluscarden used her favourite phrase. 'Now, sir and lady, what's all this I hear about you, eh? What's been happening here?'
'I'm sure there's nothing you wish to hear, Your Ladyship,' I said.
'If I didn't wish to hear, do you think I would have asked? And you should be ashamed, lady, hiding away as you have. Miss Flockhart indeed! I've never heard the like!'
I felt Mungo's eyes on me and could not control my blush of embarrassment.
'We'll come to that later, lady! Now, Doctor, where are your patients hiding?' Lady Pluscarden stamped her foot on the table. 'Tell me, sir! I will not be denied! There are too many secrets in this house.'
'One patient is in my bedroom and the other in the box room next door,' Mungo said. 'There is no secret there, Your Ladyship.'
'Let me see.' Rising abruptly, Lady Pluscarden strode to both rooms. 'Ah, yes, two little angels recovering from their ordeal. I heard some of what happened from Mrs Macfarlane.'
'Mrs Macfarlane?' I stared at Lady Pluscarden.
'Don't look so surprised, lady! I've known Isabel Macfarlane all her life.' Lady Pluscarden nodded to Mungo. 'Miss Flockhart, as she calls herself, is in a state of fragile nerves, Doctor. Pour us both some claret and tell me all.'
'Yes, your Ladyship.' With an apologetic look at me, Mungo hastened to obey as Lady Pluscarden settled herself down in his chair. She listened as Mungo told my story and, being the honest man that he was, he left nothing out. As he finished, Lady Pluscarden nodded.
'Good, well done Doctor and you lady. Now, what are you going to do with your prisoners? And with that rascal Turnbull?'
I shrugged. 'I had not thought that far, your Ladyship, and as for Turnbull, I don't know where he is.'
'He's tied securely in Hoolet's Wa's in the Pentland Hills,' this surprising old woman said. 'Safe, if not warm.' She pursed her lips. 'As for your prisoners, Macfarlane and I will take them to town. We'll leave them naked at the Tolbooth with a placard around their chests stating what they have done.' Lady Pluscarden smiled at me. 'It's all right, lady, I won't mention your name and nobody will dare question me. I know all the judges, intimately in most cases.' Her smile was pure mischief. 'They'll reputations will be ruined and they won't ever be in a position to bother you again.'
There was a sound from the bedroom and
Marie's voice sounded.
'About time that young woman awoke.' Lady Pluscarden raised her voice. 'Robert!'
The tallest of her footmen entered.
'Robert! Bring in our passenger. Quickly now!' Lady Pluscarden watched Robert scamper away, winked at me and proffered her glass for a refill. I heard the coach door open and close again and footsteps in Mungo's small entrance-hall.
Gibbie Elliot had lost weight and looked ten years older. He gave me a wan smile. 'Where is Marie?' He asked.
'I'll take you,' Mungo said at once. 'It's good to see you again, Elliot.' He led Gibbie though, and I heard Marie's wild cry of delight. Mungo returned, smiling.
'Without any accuser,' Lady Pluscarden explained, 'the procurator fiscal had no reason to hold him. Gilbert is free, and if he tries to gamble again,' she fixed me with a hard eye,' he'll have me to answer to.'
'How do you know Mrs Macfarlane?' I could not stop the question.
'She's my sister,' Lady Pluscarden said. 'We are not all born into lands, lady. Some of us marry greatly.'
'I had no idea,' I stared at this powerful lady who had just admitted to being low-born.
Lady Pluscarden finished her claret and smiled when Mungo handed her the bottle. 'Thank you, Doctor Hetherington. I concealed my past because it amused me. Others conceal their past for quite the wrong reason.' She looked at me, raised her eyebrows and smiled.
I knew Mungo was waiting for me to say something. I heard low voices from the bedroom next door. Marie laughed. If she could forgive Gibbie, perhaps Mungo would forgive me?
Lady Pluscarden eyed me over the rim of her glass. 'You are very quiet, my Lady.'
Mungo raised his eyebrows. 'My Lady?' He was smiling.
Thank you, Lady Pluscarden, I thought, before facing Mungo. I had to tell him sometime. 'When I was in India, Lord Tynebridge died, and with no males in the family, I fell heir to the title. I am Lady Tynebridge.'
Mungo gave a small nod. 'Yes, your Ladyship. I know.'
'You know?' I stared at him. 'How do you know?'
'I knew Lord Tynebridge and when he died all the talk was of the new heir, a woman in India, and then a year later, you turn up with your knowledge of Tynebridge Hall.' His smile was slow. 'It was not hard to put the pieces together.'
'Why did you not tell me?' I was quite indignant.
'Why did you not tell me?' Mungo returned.
'I thought my elevated rank would put you off,' I said. 'I was not sure how people would react to me.'
'Why Flockhart?' Mungo asked. 'Why choose that name?'
'It is my mother's name. I am legally entitled to use it if I wish.'
Mungo nodded, his eyes concerned. 'Why hide who you are at all?'
'I was ashamed,' I said at last. 'I was ashamed of what had happened to me.'
'You have overcome that now,' Mungo said. 'You have nothing of which to be ashamed. Now you start again, my Lady.'
'My Lady,' I repeated in misery. 'I knew you would withdraw from my company if I told you.'
Mungo frowned. 'You are my lady,' he said. 'I have already told you that. I don't care if you have a title or not. I believe Robert Burns said: rank is but the guinea stamp, the man's the gowd for a' that.' He smiled, 'in your case, the woman's the gowd, and pure gold at that.'
'Oh.' I stared at him, unheeding of Lady Pluscarden or anything else. I suddenly remembered precisely what Mother Faa had said. She had said that there would be a man in my future and he would wear a uniform. That had been accurate. George Rogers had worn a uniform. Mother Faa had not said I would marry that man. I had misconstrued her meaning. I pushed George to the past and smiled at Mungo.
'I'd rather you called me Dorothea.' I said. 'A while ago you said you wished I could find a man who deserves me. Well, I have.'
Mungo nodded. 'I am sure Captain Rogers…'
'No,' I shook my head. 'Not the gallant captain. I mean the loyal Doctor Hetherington if he will have me.'
Mungo stared at me with his mouth slightly open. 'Have you?'
I saw Lady Pluscarden's nod of approval as I waited for Mungo's reply.
'I would be honoured, my Lady Dorothea,' Mungo stepped across and kissed me, just once.
'Lovely,' Lady Pluscarden craned her neck to examine Mungo as he bent over me. She had the last word. 'You have found a good man with a broad chest and a shapely rump; you will never be short of entertainment, Lady Tynebridge.'
Historical Note
Much of the historical detail in this book is accurate, or as accurate as it can be. In 1803 there were fears that Bonaparte may invade and the coast east of Edinburgh held encampments of militia. Edinburgh was like an armed camp with thousands of men enrolled in Volunteer and Militia formations in expectation of the French landing. There were Field Days at Portobello beach, where the Royal Navy simulated a French invasion, and the local Volunteers and militia fended them off. Walter, later Sir Walter, Scott, the novelist, was only one of the prominent men involved in the Volunteer movement.
There were some invasion scares, including one in early 1804 when an over-zealous watchman believed that a fire in Northumberland was a sign that the French landed. He set light to a signal beacon, and the Volunteers from across the Borders mustered to repel a non-existent invasion. I used that incident although pushed it forward a few months.
Alexander McKellar was a real person and famous on Bruntsfield Links. He ran an Edinburgh pub, but not the Golf Hotel, which still stands. Women played golf at Bruntsfield from at least the middle of the 18th century.
Whisky smuggling was rife at the time, with Highlanders making illicit whisky, often known as Ferintosh, and carrying it into the urban centres. There were also local men and women involved in the trade.
Crichton Church and Crichton Castle exist. However, the church was in bad shape in 1803 and not until the 1820s was it restored to anything like its present condition. Tynebridge Hall is not real and nor was the Royal Union Bridge. The details and geography of Edinburgh and Midlothian were much as described.
The incident where Dorothea drove her gig over the Royal Union Bridge was inspired by a newspaper article of 2nd November 1808:
On the morning of Wednesday 26th a most dreadful accident happened to the London mail in crossing a bridge nine miles on the Glasgow side of Moffat. The centre arch of the bridge had previously fallen and the night being very tempestuous, the lamps were blown out in consequence of which the circumstances could not be observed by the coachman who proceeded unknowing the danger. The horses were precipitated over the ruins into the river carrying with them the coach by which dreadful accident two persons were killed and another so bruised that scant hopes are entertained for his recovery. The coachman and guard were saved but much bruised and three horses were drowned.
Mr Clapperton the surgeon is to be much praised for his ready assistance and the exertions of Mr John Giddes, one of Mr Rae's servants are deserving of notice who at the risk of his life went into the river with a rope fastened to his body and saved the life of a lady, one of the passengers and some of the mail bags which must otherwise have been carried down the stream.
Helen Susan Swift
Scotland
March 2018
Dear reader,
Thank you for taking time to read A Turn of Cards. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
A Turn of Cards (Lowland Romance Book 3) Page 24
