“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised with a smile.
She sat back and watched him leave with patient longing. William was her only comfort there. The second night after they had arrived, six nights ago, she had broken down and told him her fears of Thomas killing him and leaving her alone, or adversely, Thomas getting the upper hand and selling her off to the Frenchman.
Her confession was met with his fears of losing the battle of proving who killed her father and not clearing his clans’ name so she could be with him. They had connected that night on a spiritual level that nothing could break.
There was little to amuse herself with and the place was safe so she went to lie down and rest. Her mind was emotionally exhausted and she dreamt. Nothing in her dream was solid, it was all smoky and ethereal, but she did feel fear. Malicious words, uttered in her brother’s voice sent deep, soul-crushing pain spiking through her body and soul. You must die!
She woke up with a scream threatening to burst through her yet she managed to slap a hand over her parting lips. Her heart was racing and her breath was short. Emma’s hand clenched the sheets beside her so tightly, her hand went numb. The sky was dark and angry with the foreboding promise of a thunderstorm and she began to pray without ceasing that the sky and her dream were not mirroring omens for William.
* * *
The Inn, Galashiels
Not a heartbeat had passed before William had dashed into the sanctum of the Inn before the sky erupted and its fury was turned on the Earth. The ear-splitting thunderclaps shook the Inn’s walls and the rain battered its windows but he was safe from its rage.
The innkeeper looked up at him, “William, correct?”
“Aye,” he sighed, while looking at the nearest window. He stomped his boots and then went over to the desk, “Is Goraidh McKenna here?”
“I believe his is,” the man replied. “And he is in—”
“I’m right here,” the very much welcomed voice of Goraidh said from the doorway behind him. William spun, with relief washing over his soul and mind, that his friend was alive. His knees felt weak but he was stable enough to walk over to him and grab him in a strong hug.
“Yer alive,” William’s voice was flooded with his relief. “I was a heartbeat away from sailing to France ta find ye. How did it go?”
Goraidh’s eyes dimmed in unrest and he shook his head, “It’s nae guid William. Come, let’s talk.”
William was not sure if that was what he wanted to hear but Goraidh had not been clear so he followed him to a sitting room nearby. Goraidh sat and clasped his hands between his English breeches and leaned forward. “He killed him, William. Thomas Marston planned to kill his own father long before he died.”
That was blunt and when the shock wore off, William felt relieved that his suspicions were right.
Massaging his brows, William marshalled his growing fury and asked Goraidh to tell him all he knew from the beginning. Goraidh excused himself to go get something from his room and while he was gone, William amused himself with revisiting his ideas of taking bloody retribution on Finley.
Goraidh came back and pressed a letter into his hands. It was a statement from Pierre Belmonte, the Frenchman allied with Marston, and the words were as comforting as a noose wrapping around his neck.
On October 1734, Monsieur Thomas Marston contacted me to craft a mutual deal that would benefit us both. His offer was to marry Mademoiselle Emma Marston, his sister, to me after the death of his father. I presumed the man was ill and so his intention to give the lady a lovely life with me was only reasonable. In return, I would send him cloths and forge business connections with the French firms for him.
He read the statement that was only a statement. There was no sign that the man was guilty in making the actual plan to kill the Earl. “He was an unwilling partner in Marston’s scheme, William,” Goraidh shook his head.
“Did he say anything aboot Finley?”
“Nae,” Goraidh replied, “But Marston wouldnae be that foolish to complicate an emissary to England with a crime when he wanted him to take the lass off his hand.”
“Yer right,” William replied. “But…me gut tells me that Finley is involved.”
“I guess ye’d have ta’ find that oot, when ye get back to the Highlands,” Goraidh added.
“Nae…” William was contemplative. “We need to go back to England first. The only person going home would be ye, me friend. Thank ye fer such a sacrifice fer me.”
“Eh,” Goraidh shrugged, “Yer in love with the lass. If I had been in yer position, I ken ye’d do the same fer me…and…” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I found me some herbs an’ wine that will get me lass going, if ye ken what I mean.”
Laughing at his friend’s success, William began chatting with Goraidh about his trip while keeping an eye on the rains. The second the downpour stopped he would be out the door and riding back to Emma. The hammering eventually slowed to a drip and just as he was excusing himself Goraidh said. “Ye best be going, eh. Safe trip, William, an’ I’ll see ye on the other side.”
Grasping his friend in a one-armed hug, William nodded, uttered his farewells, and left with his heart thumping for another reason. A meeting with Marston was inevitable but William knew the new Earl would not go down quietly when his crime was laid bare. A fight was already brewing in the air.
* * *
Peebles, Scotland
The finishing touch to the peppery cock-a-leekie soup was being added when the familiar thumps of William’s boots were heard outside. Emma rushed to open the door and he stepped in, shaking the droplets of rain from his wild hair. Her heartbeat began to pound.
“Did you find him?” she prayed silently.
His lips thinned and her heart plummeted until he nodded, “Aye, Emma but it’s not pretty.”
“He killed my father…,” she said tonelessly. “Didn’t he?”
William did not get to nod before she turned away. “Emma—”
Her laugh was bitter. “You know, I would have wanted to think that he was not capable of doing that but now… now it makes sense. Horrible, insidious, despicable sense but it makes sense.”
She felt him edge closer to her and rest a hand on her shoulder, “Will ye be alright?”
“We need to get back to England,” Emma declared. “If my uncle has not done it yet, we need to get to him and save Mother.”
“Me thoughts exactly,” William nodded, “We ride out at dawn.”
“No,” Emma said tightly, “We ride out tonight. William, I do not care if I have to sleep in a tree, we have to get home. We need to get home and deliver justice to my traitorous brother, no matter what it takes.”
Her statement clearly took him aback and his eye widened before a grin stretched his lips and he reached for her. “Blood or bone, eh. I’ve ken I’ve created a savage.” He then sobered, “Emma, ye do ken that Marston isn't going to admit to it. It might take some desperate measures to get him to confess.”
“He killed my father and I know he made my mother suffer. He was ready to sell me off to the highest bidder, first you and then this Frenchman, and if I refused, he was going to send me to an asylum,” Emma’s voice was like flint. “He does not need to confess…he needs to die.”
“Emma!”
“I mean what I said, William,” she interjected “I have had enough. Look what he put us through? Running from one place to another like scared rabbits. And he accused your clan of a murder he contrived and committed. You cannot tell me that is not a crime worthy of death?”
His expression agreed with her but he did not speak a word. “Let’s eat and then we are off back to England, William. This ends now!”
“Aye Emma,” he agreed, “This ends noo.”
Chapter 29
Four Days Later
The Marston Townhome, Manchester
Cool air blanketed Withington, a rural community that lay just south of the Manchester City center. It was dominated by large spates of
land and the fitting country manor that housed the owner of the land. Emma had not been at her Uncle’s house more than thrice in her childhood but she knew the address by heart.
Three days on the road with little more than five hours between them had carried Emma and William, both worse for wear, to the front steps of her Uncle’s home at just before dawn. The misty air was slithering under the thin cloth of her gown and Emma was almost ready to trade her left arm for a warm bath, soft clothes, and a fire.
She knocked on the door and waited before knocking again, this time with more impatience than anything. They both heard footsteps hurrying to the side and she stepped back just as the carved wood was pulled in. A footman, dressed in his livery but still sporting sleepy eyes, greeted them.
“May I help you?”
“I am Lady Emma Marston and I need to speak with my Uncle,” Emma said tiredly, “Please, let us in.”
The footman opened the door wider and she and William stepped in, as he bowed and said, “I will wake the master.”
As he ran off, Emma sagged on the wooden paneling just inside the door and looked at William who was decidedly uncomfortable. Her smile was faint and tired, “We made it.”
He never got to answer as feet were rushing down the stairs, and not just one set but two. Emma straightened up as her uncle in his robe and her mother — thank God — came down the stairs. She rushed to her mother first and hugged her tightly.
“Mother!” she cried, “Mother, you’re here! I am so glad you’re safe!”
“Emma,” Lady Katherine embraced her just as tightly, “I was so worried. I prayed day and night for your safety. Thank God you are here.”
Mutually, they pulled away and Emma wiped a tear from her mother’s eyes and smiled, “I am well, Mother, and it’s all because of William.”
Pulling away, Emma went to hug her uncle and kiss his cheek before turning to William. “Mother, you already know William MacNair but Uncle you do not. William saved me from Thomas, Uncle. He saved my life and I love him.”
Uncle Henry reached over and grasped William’s hand and shook it. He even clasped his other hand over William’s in a gesture of appreciation. “Thank you, son, I cannot tell you how much I thank you.”
“Emma, darling,” Lady Katherine said, while pressing her hand to her daughter’s face, “You look exhausted. Are you eating well?”
“We rushed from Scotland, Mother,” Emma sighed. “Because we have some dire news Mother, and I don’t think it can wait. It is Thomas, Mother… he killed Father.”
“I know,” Katherine’s reply stunned her and William. “I know…Emma, I remember.”
Uncle Henry cleared his throat, “Let us go to the sitting room. We can talk then. I’ll get someone to take care of your horses.”
He ushered them all inside a nearby room and directed a footman to get a fire going, and a maid to get some tea and finger foods for them to nibble on. Emma sat on a loveseat with her mother and leaned into her while William took a wingback chair, and Uncle Henry took the last chair. Daylight was beginning to stream through the window as they sat.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” Uncle Henry directed. “And I think it may begin with Emma. Emma, please?”
Clearing her throat, Emma began and told them how they had come from the MacNair Clan and how Thomas began to control her regarding her future. She told them how he suddenly introduced the Frenchman, Pierre Belmonte, and the threat to lock her away if she did not agree.
A maid came in with the tea and they took a moment to pour it out, making the hot drink how they each liked it before continuing. This time, William took the reins.
“Them leaving Clan MacNair dinnae sit with me so I followed them,” William said, “I hated how he would force Emma to ride all day an’ sleep in tha’ worst places. One night she was laying on rocks for God’s sake. I came in an’ we spoke.”
“I told her that I was watching over her so she dinnae have to worry. Her horse got away from her, I saved her, an’ she made it back home safe. Even then, I wasnae settled. I spied on her an’ heard her fussin’. I rescued her from her room an’ took her to a cabin nearby. We then came to Scotland while me friend Goraidh went to France to find the truth.”
Nibbling on a warm roll slathered with preserves, Emma continued. “We went to Galashiels and found a cabin to stay in while we waited for word from Goraidh. We had to run after knowing that Thomas knew where we were, and had to go to…er…. Peebles?”
“Aye,” William spoke. “Goraidh came back with this letter from tha’ Frenchman.” He dug into the sack he had and handed the letter over to Henry. “Thomas planned the killing of his father months ago an’ planned ta’ sell Emma off ta’ France.”
“While he used laudanum to keep me dull,” Lady Katherine finished. “I saw when he had opened that vail and dumped the blue liquid in Peter’s wine.”
“Blue?” Henry asked, “Was it Opium?”
“Opium would not make a man froth from the mouth,” Emma added and blushed when she saw all eyes on her and murmured something about a book she had read. “I think Thomas made a mix of poisons.”
“Because he hated his father,” Lady Katherine sighed. “He would make sure he died.”
Emma glanced over to her Uncle, whose face was full of angry lines. “Uncle?”
Henry stood and began to pace, “Emma, your father was a horrible human being, I can admit that freely. But for Thomas to kill him this way, I need answers and I need them from him. We will go today… that is if you are rested enough?”
Emma and William shared a look before she asked. “Er, can we have an hour or so?”
“Good enough for me,” Henry nodded. “I will ready two rooms for you.”
“Um,” Emma’s head was down as heart crawled up her neck, “Uncle…we sleep together. I am sorry but that is how it is. I know it is not fitting for an unmarried woman to do so…but I was in distress and he calms me. He has done in the past um…four weeks, I believe.”
She was being a little light with the truth but if her mother knew the heights of pleasure William had taken her to while unmarried, she would have an apoplexy.
Her head was down but she could feel the scandalous look her mother was trying to drill into the side of her head. “Emma!”
“I’m sorry, Mother—"
“Ye have no right to be, Emma,” William cut in. “My Lady, I have all the intentions of doing tha’ honorable act and marrying her. She is going to be me wife one day an’ I love her, so I dinnae ken comforting her in her distress was anything to be ashamed of.”
His short speech shocked the two seniors in the room and nobody made a sound. Henry still was unsure about what to do. Again, William cleared it for him. “Emma, an hour is nae long. We can sleep away from each other for that time. After this is all sorted out, we’ll say our vows an’ then everything will be settled.”
“Um, I suppose,” Emma was reluctant. “Sleep well.”
While her uncle led William off to a room, she answered her mother’s unsaid question. “No, Mother. He did not lie about marrying me and I am not increasing. We spoke at length about that and not until we are married under the eyes of God, will we have congress. Right now, we need to deal with Thomas. I am sure we can talk about this after, Mother.”
Lady Katherine’s hand smoothed over her head and she smiled. “Certainly, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”
“Thank you, Mother,” she sighed.
* * *
William would have rather rode his horse instead of being with the three others in the Marston’s carriage. The trip to Northumberland was going to take a good few hours and with every rotation of the wheels his anxiety was building up. He knew Marston would not own up to his deeds and he was not going to stop until he got his confession…even if he had to beat it out of him.
He looked over to Emma who was leaning on her Mother’s shoulder. She looked so much more rested in one hour than the five or so they had in woods. The
miracles of a featherbed. He had taken a much-needed bath and by the light sheen in Emma’s hair, she had one, too. Turning back to the window, William began to plan. How exactly would he deal with facing Marston?
Well, I ken what I want to do…I want his head on a pike an’ I ken Emma wants it too but…when it comes to it…will she regret her decision?
Sensing someone watching him, he looked up and met Emma’s hazel eyes on him. They held a comforting smile and he felt her calmness wash over him. He wished it could stay but he knew that the moment they met Marston calm would go out the door. She broke away from her mother and came closer to him. “We will get justice today, William.”
Disciplined by the Highlander: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 26
