Amanda Scott (38 page)

“Nay, I know those men. They be gormless. Shall I go now?”

“Yes, I think so. Just walk straight across the yard. Miss Mary and I will make a thing of bidding you good-night, but you must not answer.”

“Aye, then, I’m off.”

She put a cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood forward so that it concealed her face. She was a large woman, and hunching like she was when she went through the scullery, she did look furtive.

“I’ll be going, too,” Bardie said. “That will give them more tae think about, for I’ll go out the front, and her ladyship can make a thing of seeing me off.”

Diana and Mary hurried after Morag, calling good-night from the doorway and waving. The maidservant waved back without showing her face.

As they had hoped, three of the men Duncan had left watching the house hurried to intercept her, grabbing her by the arms and snatching back her hood. One of the men said harshly, “Here now, lad, who do ye think yer fooling?

At that Morag set up a screech that folks across the loch must have heard, for it sounded to Diana like a banshee’s scream, or that of a demented woman. At all events, the clamor brought the fourth man running round the side of the house.

Pandemonium ensued until Diana and Mary hurried into the yard and Diana exclaimed indignantly, “How dare you attack Morag! Just wait until I complain of your behavior to Lord Balcardane and Lord Calder. You men should be ashamed of yourselves, setting upon a poor innocent woman like that.”

Since by now it was clear to them all that their victim was female, none was brave enough to question her innocence. Morag declared herself too frightened and upset to go any farther and announced that she would just have to wait for another day to go, whereupon Diana and Mary escorted her tenderly back to the house.

Lady Maclean awaited them in the kitchen. “He’s gone,” she said. “Bardie went out the front, and when the man watching heard all the row and ran to see what it was, Bardie signed to Allan that his way was clear. By now the pair of them will be safe in the shrubbery on the hillside.”

“Allan is hardly safe,” Diana pointed out. “The woods will be crawling with Campbells until they catch the murderer.”

“Bardie will use his own ways, however, and will be able to tell Allan which route is clearest,” Lady Maclean said. “Once they catch the right man, things will return to normal, and in any event, I believe Allan is nearly ready to return to France. He said he has been delayed by trouble collecting the second rents.”

“That is hardly amazing,” Diana said. “People don’t like paying twice. I’ll be glad when he leaves though. Too many people think his being here is proof that the rebels are stirring again.

“But who do you think murdered Red Colin?” Mary asked with a frown.

“It is a pity you cannot answer that for us, my dear,” Lady Maclean said. “I can tell you only that it was not a Maclean or a Stewart. You heard them say he was shot from behind. No one we know would do such a cowardly thing.”

Mary’s expression showed a lack of such confidence, and with sinking spirits Diana realized that her own hitherto blind faith in her kinsmen had weakened.

R
ORY RODE BACK TO
Balcardane alone. He had intended to return to Kentallen Inn despite the late hour, to see that everything proper was being done there, but he decided he would do better to write a couple of letters instead, one to the duke at Inveraray and another to the Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer.

At first he dutifully considered what he must write to Argyll, knowing that the rumors that had flown about for months would color any news he imparted. Already he had heard men speculate that Glenure’s murder had been intended as a signal to begin the new troubles, and he knew that Argyll, like Balcardane, would view the crime as a flagrant challenge to the rightful government.

He did not want to augment that view. To be sure, Glenure had been a government agent, but his murder did not prove the existence of any conspiracy.

His letter to the Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, an elderly, lethargic man appropriately named Idle, would be easier to write. He had small respect for Idle, but in this instance, he thought the man’s laziness might prove helpful. The Lord Chief Baron would most likely pass all responsibility for the investigation to the lord advocate and to the Baron who just happened already to be in Appin.

By the time he reached the castle he found himself wondering for the hundredth time how he could balance his growing concern for Diana and her family against his duty as a Baron of the Exchequer and his loyalty to Clan Campbell. That Balcardane would expect complete support was clear. That Argyll would expect him to follow orders went without saying. But Diana would expect—Here imagination failed him. What would Diana expect of him?

At Balcardane he found the great hall empty. A light glowed in the drawing room, but having no wish to exchange small talk with his aunt or with Ian, he went directly to the library, stirring up the fire in there himself.

When a manservant entered, he ordered claret. His uncle kept whisky on a side table near the desk, but Rory knew he needed a clear head to write his letters.

“Beg pardon, my lord,” the manservant said when he had poured me wine, “but her ladyship wished to know if you had returned. I told her I would find out.”

Repressing annoyance, Rory said, “Please, tell her that I have urgent letters to write. You may also inform her that his lordship and Master Duncan are likely to be late. They may even spend the night at Kentallen Inn.”

The manservant bowed himself out, and for some time Rory enjoyed sufficient solitude to write his letter to Argyll. He had decided to state the bare facts without comment, promising to send more information as and when it became available. He was sprinkling silver sand over the letter when the door opened and his aunt peeped in.

“Oh, good,” she said, smiling and entering the room as one certain of her welcome. “I hoped you would be finished, and I see that you are, so perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me what, exactly, has occurred to set everyone in such a bustle. I know that curiosity is a sad fault in a female—or, indeed, in anyone of quality—but no one ever tells me anything. I would never ask questions of just anyone—certainly not the servants—as I am persuaded you must know, but when one’s husband and elder son get up and leave the house just as they are sitting down to supper, without a word of explanation to anyone, and with such a riot and rumpus following hard upon their departure—Well, it leaves one quite speechless, of course, but I did think that perhaps if you do not quite mind explaining—”

“Someone murdered Colin Glenure,” Rory said.

She stared at him in shock. “Who would do such a thing? Why, he was quite important, and his wife is expecting another child quite soon now, I believe. Surely, no one could be so cruel as to kill Colin before the child is even born.”

“Red Colin is dead?” Ian stepped in and shut the door that his mother had left open. “Someone said he had been shot, but I didn’t know he was dead. Who did it?”

Rory was relieved to see him, for he had not known of a tactful way to be rid of his aunt. He was certain he could rely on Ian.

“We don’t know who killed him,” he said. “His nephew was with him. He said he saw a man running away, carrying a firelock and wearing a dun-colored jacket and trousers, but he did not recognize the man. I am just writing to inform Argyll and the Lord Chief Baron,” he added pointedly.

“Then you don’t want us,” Ian said at once. “Come along, Mama. We must let him finish his letters.”

“But he has finished,” Lady Balcardane protested. “He was just dusting his letter with sand when I came in.”

“One letter,” Ian said. “He has another to write.”

“You’ve written Cousin Archibald then—Argyll, as I should say.”

“Yes,” Rory said.

“Then he will be coming here,” she said, clasping her hands together, “and whatever Balcardane says about expense, I mean to make him comfortable.”

Rory nearly told her there was no reason to think Argyll would exert himself to come to Appin, but he held his tongue. As Lord Justice General of Scotland, the duke might well stick his oar in when he learned of Glenure’s death.

Ian turned back to say, “Did Mungo see only the one man?”

“Aye,” Rory said. Then before he thought, he added, “A woman in a red dress was seen, too. Your brother is convinced it was Diana Maclean.”

“The devil fly away with Duncan,” Ian exclaimed. “I know I should not speak ill of my brother, but I tell you, Cousin Rory, there are days when I’d not put it past him to have killed Colin himself just to make trouble for the Macleans.”

“Ian, my dear!” Lady Balcardane exclaimed.

“Well, it’s just that he’s threatened them many and many a time.”

Since the same notion had occurred to Rory, he made no comment, and after a moment of tense silence, Ian said quietly, “Good night, sir.” Gently taking his mother’s arm, he guided her out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

As it happened, Balcardane and Duncan did not stay the night in Kentallen, and unfortunately the following morning Ian repeated his suspicion to his father and Rory just as Duncan joined them in the breakfast room.

“What the devil are you talking about?” Duncan demanded.

“I don’t say you did it,” Ian said. “I just said that it wouldn’t surprise folks much to learn that you had, which is why I thought I should mention it to Father.”

“I ought to take you outside and thrash some sense into you,” Duncan snapped, taking a threatening step toward him.

“Get your food and sit down, cousin,” Rory said sternly. “I’d as lief finish my breakfast without an eruption of violence.”

“That’s just my point,” Ian said, eyeing his brother warily, although Duncan turned without comment and began to serve himself from the sideboard. “You rarely trouble to bank your fires, Duncan. You didn’t like Colin much, and you’re always making mischief for the Macleans and the Stewarts.”

Measuring his words through gritted teeth as he sat down, Duncan said, “You choose to take their side because you are besotted with Mary Maclaine. She has bewitched you till you no longer can see the truth or what danger you put yourself in with such disloyalty to your clan. As for your stupid suspicions, if you paid the least heed to what goes on around you, you would know that the most likely suspect in everyone’s mind is Mary’s cousin, Allan Breck.”

“He is not her cousin,” Ian said with a darkling look. “He is kin to Lady Maclean, and you and the others suspect him of killing Colin only because he is a felon. If he is one, it’s because he fought for what he believes in. Others have been pardoned for the same crimes, you know, if such things are even crimes.”

“What if I told you that your darling Mary and Diana Maclean were probably hiding Allan Breck last night, that they helped him escape the authorities?”

“I’d say they were protecting him out of fear that he would be captured and hanged as an escaped felon. You must admit that he’s a brave fellow, slipping back and forth like he does to bring news of the exiles to their families.”

“He comes to stir up trouble,” Duncan said, getting to his feet. “Don’t disturb yourself, cousin,” he added when Rory put down his fork. “This young fool needs a lesson, but I’ve no time to attend to him properly today, and I’ve lost my appetite.”

Balcardane had been eating steadily, apparently paying no heed to the exchange between his sons. But when Duncan had gone, he shot Ian a sour look from under his brows and said, “You heed what he says, lad. Tempers will be high on both sides, and though I mean to ferret out Colin’s killer as soon as I can, you’d best stay close to home till I get things sorted out. You’re too trusting by half.”

“I have no enemies, Father,” Ian said in his quiet way. “Everyone in Appin knows me for a peaceful fellow.”

When Balcardane did not reply, Rory said, “If you are going to Kentallen, sir, I’ll ride with you.”

“Aye, I’m going. I sent for a doctor to tell us exactly what killed Colin.”

Ian looked surprised. “Didn’t you say someone shot him?”

“Aye, and so they did, but we’ve only Mungo’s say-so and Kennedy’s that there was just one shot. The servant heard nothing, so there may have been more.”

Rory said, “People frequently give differing versions of what they see and hear at such times. It will be helpful to know what the doctor can tell us.”

However, the doctor could tell them little more than they already knew. “Colin Glenure was killed by two bullets that entered his back on each side of his spine and emerged a few inches apart just below his navel,” he said when Rory and the earl sat down with him at a table in the inn’s dark taproom.

“Two killers then,” Rory said, frowning as he signed to the tapster.

“Nay, my lord, I dinna think that. No one heard but one shot, so the musket-balls must ha’ been fired at a single discharge. ’Tis common practice hereabouts tae insert two balls into the muzzle, the first larger than the second. Moreover, the proximity of the wounds tells me the shot came from very close by.”

“Mungo said the man he saw was a fair distance up the hill,” Balcardane murmured thoughtfully.

An unwelcome vision of Diana flashed into Rory’s mind before he recalled Bardie’s affection for secret forest paths, and wondered if the dwarf owned a musket. He dismissed the thought at once, however. Not only did Bardie seem to be a man who used wits rather than weapons but Rory could not imagine the forthright dwarf shooting any man in the back. Nor would Diana do such a thing. He was as certain of that as he was that the sun would rise again on the morrow.

He was not so certain about Neil Maclean or Allan Breck. Neil struck him as a lad who was both spoiled by his family and frustrated by his situation. He was hereditary chieftain of his clan, but the position gave him no power. The entire clan system had changed in the past six years, leaving men like Neil swinging in the wind. And he had been furious with Colin over the eviction.

As for Allan Breck, Rory believed him capable of anything.

Thanking the doctor for his help and leaving him to deal with the removal of the corpse, he and Balcardane rode to survey the route Glenure’s party had taken the previous day. Rory had visited the murder site before, but the light was better now, and men were moving slowly over the hillside, searching for evidence.