Grace in Thine Eyes (50 page)

Seventy

Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak!
H
ENRY
W
ADSWORTH
L
ONGFELLOW

D
avina bowed her head, disheartened to find herself sitting once more in the room at the top of the turnpike stair in the oldest part of Brodick castle. The room where Somerled had offered all he owned in exchange for her hand in marriage.
Whatever you say, I shall give
.

He could not have imagined what his love would cost.
Everything
.

“Miss McKie?” Lewis Hunter’s voice forced her to look up. He knew of her impediment and so did not press for a verbal response. “Pardon me for asking you to join us. You have my sincerest sympathy. Alas, ’tis imperative that I have the entire McKie family present for this formal inquiry.”

She acknowledged him with a slight nod, then looked across the table at the twins, sitting in the same chairs they’d occupied on Monday and wearing the same clothing. Her father as well. Ian was by her side, as Somerled had been, and her mother to her right. Mr. Hunter did not begin to fill Sir Harry’s seat, though that was the chair he’d claimed at the head of the table.

“You should know that Lady MacDonald was informed of their deaths sometime overnight. When our messenger returns, we shall ascertain her wishes concerning her family members’ remains.”

Davina’s heart sank at the thought of this woman she had never met answering her door in the dark of night, learning the worst news of her life. Her dear husband. Her only son.

“And now, if you will, Peter.” Mr. Hunter gestured to his clerk, who occupied a small desk in the corner. “At twelve twenty on Thursday, the seventh of July, a formal inquiry commenced regarding the deaths of Sir Harry MacDonald and Somerled MacDonald.” The steward listed
those present, carefully spelling out each name for the record. “I will direct my questions primarily to William and Alexander, though I may call upon their father or Miss McKie for verification of certain facts. Mrs. McKie, you and your eldest son are welcome to offer silent support but no other.”

Leana responded, “Then I am free to pray.”

“You are indeed. Man’s laws are no more than a fumbling attempt to make God’s laws sovereign. ‘Thy will be done.’ As justice of the peace, that is ever my prayer, Mrs. McKie.”

“And mine,” she murmured. “Let thy mercy, O L
ORD
, be upon us.”

Mr. Hunter cleared his throat. “I shall begin with the results of our medical examination of the deceased, the bodies having been recovered with some difficulty early last evening.”

Davina stared at her hands, fearing she might be sick.
The deceased. The bodies
. No longer Sir Harry and Somerled.
Sown in dishonor. Raised in glory
. She would cling to that promise and remember them as they were. Strong men with stout hearts.

After shuffling his papers, Mr. Hunter found what he was looking for. “The duke’s surgeon conducted the inspection of the bodies. His report indicates he found no evidence of foul play.”

The room seemed to exhale, the red sandstone walls expanding and contracting with their collective relief. Oddly, Will and Sandy showed little reaction to the news, though of course they already knew foul play was not involved. Vengeful as the twins might be, they were not murderers. Not the brothers who’d doted on her from the time they were children.

“Furthermore,” Mr. Hunter continued, “we have determined that no weapons were employed, neither blunt nor sharp, and no bullet wounds were found. Their injuries suggest a struggle only with the mountain itself.” He paused, as if considering whether to elaborate. The paper before him clearly listed further details.

Davina pleaded with her eyes.
No more. Please
.

Though he did not look up, the steward honored her wishes nonetheless, moving to the next item. “Since both MacDonald men were older and physically larger than the McKies, it is unlikely that
William and Alexander could have overpowered them. We also found no indication of a scuffle having taken place on the summit. No torn bits of clothing, freshly scraped rocks, or traces of blood.”

Davina had barely come to terms with Somerled’s being gone from her life. She had not yet begun to think of him as truly dead. But she could not bear to envision him dying. Crying out in pain. Injured, bleeding. Fighting for his life and losing.
Nae, nae
. A tear slipped down her cheek.
I pray it was swift. O Father, I pray you were with him
.

Beneath the table an embroidered handkerchief was placed in her lap.

“I have reviewed the many questions posed yesterday, gentlemen, and am satisfied with your answers. For the record, William, please state once more the exact sequence of events that led to both deaths.”

Will squared his shoulders as if preparing for battle. “While standing on the cloud-covered summit of Goatfell, Sir Harry MacDonald inadvertently stumbled over the western precipice, falling several feet beyond our reach. His son, Somerled MacDonald, made his way down the slope in a valiant attempt to save his father. Unfortunately, Sir Harry slid farther down the steep hillside and was lost to us. Since he’d grasped his son’s boot in the process, Somerled’s safety was compromised as well. My brother and I climbed down on either side of Somerled and did everything in our power to reach him. To save him.”

“You wanted him alive.”

“Very much, sir. For our sister’s sake. And for his.”

“Almost the very words we recorded yesterday,” Mr. Hunter murmured. “Either you are well rehearsed, or ’tis the truth.”

“You may depend upon it, sir,” Will said evenly. “I did not rehearse my testimony.”

“As it happens, we found a piece of your brown woolen coat, snagged by the granite, in the very place this rescue attempt of yours was said to have occurred. ’Twas quite far down. You took a great risk, William.”

“ ’Tis a difficult thing, sir, to watch a man die.”

“I am sure that is true.”

Davina had not considered the grim scenes that must haunt Will and Sandy. Hearing the men’s desperate cries. Watching their torment.
My dear brothers
. She would pray for their peace of mind.

“There is one final matter that concerns me.” Mr. Hunter leaned back in his chair. “The marriage agreement prepared in this office on Monday states that, upon the death of both Sir Harry and his heir, all but a small portion of the MacDonald fortune is to be awarded to Miss McKie.”

Her mouth fell open in dismay, only now remembering the terms of their agreement. And Somerled’s offhand remark.
After all, it will cost us nothing. Unless we die
.

Mr. Hunter pointed his knife-sharp gaze at her brothers. “All our current evidence notwithstanding, such an agreement, newly signed, provides a strong motive for murder.”

Davina stared at him in horror.
Nae!
Her brothers loved her. They could never have … not possibly …

“But ’tis our sister who is the beneficiary,” Will reminded him, his voice cool. “My brother and I had no incentive whatsoever to kill these men.”

“Unless Miss McKie promised to divide the spoils with you.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “My sister is not capable of such a devious plot.”

“I am not suggesting that it was her idea.”

Only half listening, Davina wrote furiously across the page of her sketchbook.
I do not want or need the MacDonald fortune. See that Lady MacDonald retains the whole of it
. Satisfied, she presented her sketchbook to the steward, certain her bold statement would put their discussion to an end. There could be no motive for murder if there was no reward.

Mr. Hunter read her words, then peered at her over his spectacles. “I am afraid ’tis not so simple as this, Miss McKie. The wishes of Sir Harry and his son were clearly stated: You are the sole beneficiary of the MacDonald holdings. Those rights were irrevocably assigned to you by the deceased.”

Davina turned to her father. Though he had not officially been called upon, perhaps he might come to her defense.
Please, Father. Say something
.

He did not disappoint her. “Surely the law would allow my daughter to accept and then reassign these same holdings to Lady MacDonald.”

Mr. Hunter pursed his lips. “While such generosity is admirable, if
you mean for it to resolve the problem of an obvious motive for William and Alexander to commit murder, I am afraid you have not persuaded me.”

Davina reached for Ian’s hand, at a loss for what else she might do to convince Mr. Hunter their twin brothers were innocent.

The steward looked down the table, folding his hands over his notes. “Now I have a question for you, Mr. McKie, regarding this unusual marriage agreement. ’Tis uncommon enough to name a wife as sole beneficiary, entrusting her to provide for her offspring rather than allowing one’s heir to inherit his fortune directly. But to visit such riches upon a young woman to whom a gentleman is merely betrothed”—he spread out his hands—“ ’tis unprecedented. In light of that, I am curious to know if Sir Harry made such an offer of his own volition. Or was it someone else’s suggestion to pursue such a course?”

Davina knew the answer.
The twins
. She had watched them huddling in the corner that day. Had seen her father shake his head, even as Will shook his finger. Recalled Will saying to her father at the table, “We agreed on this.” But Will had presented the idea. Not her father.

Would Jamie say as much? Build a gallows for his sons with mere words, however truthful?

Her father hesitated only a moment. “ ’Twas my idea.”

“Oh?” Mr. Hunter’s black brows arched. “Then if I may ask, why were you so eager to see your daughter provided for, even before her wedding day? You are a wealthy gentleman in your own right, Mr. McKie. Was there some concern that has not been voiced here?”

Davina quietly retrieved her sketchbook. And prepared her heart.

If her father confessed that Somerled had violated her, Mr. Hunter would have an even stronger motive for murder at his disposal. Not only greed but also revenge.

So she wrote the words herself. And spared her father the dilemma.

I am no longer a maid. We were allowing for the possibility of a child
.

Her mother gasped when she read the words over her shoulder, but Davina resolutely placed her sketchbook in Mr. Hunter’s hands. She did not care what the man thought of her. If her words—truly written—saved the twins, her pride was well sacrificed.

Mr. Hunter did not tarry over her confession. “I see. Well.” He pushed her book away with a faint look of disgust. “That explains your need for haste. If the agreement was your father’s suggestion, and he was at the manse at the time of the accident, he can hardly be implicated, nor does he stand to gain from the deaths of these good men. As to your own gain, Miss McKie, I leave that up to you.”

I have gained nothing. I have lost everything
.

Davina closed her sketchbook, grateful he had not glanced through the other pages. She, too, had recorded the truth.

A sudden knock at the door made them all jump.

Mr. Hunter bade the person enter: a kintra man of thirty-odd years. His clothes looked slept in, his chin needed shaving, and his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“I’m jist back from Argyll and thocht ye’d want tae hear the news wi’oot delay.” When the steward nodded for him to proceed, the man shuffled from one foot to the other as he told his sad tale. “I found Leddy MacDonald at hame. ’Twas four in the mornin’, and the sun weel up, though I fear I stirred the puir woman from her sleep.” He hung his head. “She did greet for a lang time, and I canna say I blame her. She asked tae have their kists delivered tae her hoose in Argyll and for a piper tae
fallow
them from Brodick castle tae her door.” He shrugged. “ ’Tis not me place tae say, but it seems a fair request.”

“We’ll take care of things, Fergus.” Mr. Hunter stood, ending the inquiry. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must attend to these details on behalf of Lady MacDonald. Miss McKie, do you have any desire to see your betrothed before …”

Nae
. Davina pressed her hand to her mouth, imagining his broken body, then shook her head.

“In that case, you and your family are free to return to the inn. You are not at liberty, however, to leave Arran. Not until I review my records on this case and make a final decision on whether or not the deaths were accidental.”

Jamie stood as well. “Might I ask when that will be, sir?”

Mr. Hunter’s gray eyes bore no hint of his verdict. “You shall have my ruling in the morning.”

Seventy-One

Could he with reason murmur at his case,
Himself sole author of his own disgrace?
W
ILLIAM
C
OWPER

C
ousin, will you not sit and have some breakfast?” Jamie did not object to Benjamin Stewart’s company or Mrs. McAllister’s tea; he simply could not remain seated for very long without bolting to his feet to pace the floor. The justice of the peace had promised an answer by morning.
’Tis morning, sir
. How much longer would the man make them wait? Perhaps Lewis Hunter took delight in making the accused suffer. Or perhaps he had no notion of the misery he inflicted.

Whatever the official verdict, Jamie did not doubt for a moment the twins’ guilt.

His wife and daughter both refused to consider the possibility. Ian was a gracie lad, like his mother, and slow to find fault. But Jamie knew the twins were fashioned out of the same black cloth God had used to make him. Thievery and deception were woven through his past; the same threads ran through the fabric of his brutish sons.

Forgive them, Father, even as you have forgiven me
.

But until the twins sought God’s forgiveness, until they repented and were divinely changed, Jamie could do nothing but look in the mirror and heap their guilt on his own shoulders.