Amanda Scott (40 page)

“Aye, and we met at Bristol, the three of us,” he said. “Duncan thought he’d best go back to London and look after the others, but Chuff came with me. I had the devil’s own time persuading him to come to Shian, but he came, right enough.”

“I expect that Bridget was glad to see the pair of you.”

His smile was grim. “I haven’t seen the wicked lass yet, so I cannot say if she will be glad or no. My guess is that when I tell her what I think of her behavior she will wish me to the devil.”

Pinkie sighed. “I expect that Duncan will be angry with me, too. He warned me not to put myself in danger again, or I’d know his wrath.”

“As to his anger, I cannot say, lassie, but it is no longer his business to deal with you. It’s mine, and whether you believe I’ll beat you or no, I
will
have some few things to say when you are better. You should not have gone after Bridget by yourself. For now, though, I’m just glad to have you safe again. Bridget is another matter, though. It is my business, and no other man’s, to deal with her.”

Pinkie took a moment to decide how much to tell him, then decided that nothing less than the whole truth would do. “She is married,” she said quietly.

“Aye, I know. Connal told us Sir Renfrew was seeking his wife at Mingary.”

“He forced her, Michael. He had a tame parson waiting, and he forced her.”

In a tone far more gentle than she had expected, he said, “Did he bed her as well, or did all this ruckus prevent that?”

Believing that he hoped he could still get the marriage annulled, she hesitated to reply. He was already angry, both with her and with Bridget, and could get much angrier. She could not blame him if he did. Nothing, however, could alter the facts.

“There can be no annulment,” she said. “He made certain of that.”

“Witnesses?”

“Aye, or so he threatened, and so it looked to me when last I saw Bridget.”

To her surprise, he nodded with evident satisfaction.

Bewildered, she said, “I thought you would be furious to find your sister wedded to that awful man.”

“If I do not mistake the matter, my sister is now a widow,” Michael said. “’Tis better, under the circumstances, that he did marry her, I’m thinking.”

“A widow? Is Sir Renfrew dead?”

“So it appears. Chuff and Connal are searching, but Tam said Sir Renfrew went under, so it’s a fair guess they’ll find him dead if they find him at all.”

“Bridget will be a wealthy widow if that’s so,” Pinkie said.

“Not necessarily,” Michael said, “but that does not matter. I am concerned about her reputation. A widow is much more respectable than a runaway brat.”

“She is wealthy, nonetheless,” Pinkie said. She explained about the parson’s conditions and the settlement paper. “She inherits all that is not entailed, sir, which means all but the title and Sir Renfrew’s mother’s house near Arisaig. Everything else is hers to do with as she pleases unless she should have a child by him.”

Michael was silent for a long moment, but when Pinkie shivered, he noticed at once and urged his mount to a faster pace.

The sky had lightened, and clouds overhead were parting. When a shaft of sunlight struck the hilltop ahead, Pinkie saw the shadowy figure waiting there.

“Cailean! It
is
Cailean, is it not?”

“Aye, lassie, it is.”

“I thought it was the ghost’s dog when I saw him before. Oh, I’m so glad he’s not dead, after all!”

“I expect he is pleased about that himself,” Michael said with a smile.

Sir Renfrew’s men joined the searchers as soon as they learned that he was missing. Less than an hour later, two of them carried his body into the hall on a plank and set it up on supports well away from the fire. By then, Michael and Pinkie had changed into dry clothes, and had warned Bridget that she had likely become a widow. Neither the warning nor the reality appeared to distress her in the least.

Without comment, Chuff, Connal, and the other searchers retired to change their clothes, and Michael stirred up the fire. The hall was chilly.

Having looked to be sure that Sir Renfrew truly had departed this life, Bridget returned to warm her hands at the fire, saying, “Now that I am a widow like Aunt Marsali and Cousin Bella, you must not scold me anymore, Michael. You no longer have that right, so I can do as I please.”

“I am still your brother, Bridget. That alone gives me the right to speak as I will to you. Do you honestly think your widowhood would prevent that?”

She looked annoyed, but when she spoke, it was in a smaller voice. “I think I shall prefer to live in London or in Edinburgh.”

“You may certainly do so if you choose,” he said, “but before we can make that decision or any others, there will be many things to discuss and to arrange.”

Pinkie, noting a newcomer peeping in from the stairwell, exclaimed, “Mrs. Conochie, do come in. How are the children getting on?”

The plump cook bustled in, tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands held out, saying, “Och, miss, ’tis splendid they be, praise be to God and to ye and them others. When I heard my bairns had taken the wee boat onto the loch, I feared the worst. I dinna ken whether to hug them or skelp them, I tell ye.”

“They were very brave,” Pinkie said, taking both outstretched hands in hers and giving them a squeeze. “They were going to seek help, you know.”

“Aye, so they tell me. I told them ’twas too dangerous for the men to try to steal away, and so they slipped out the postern gate themselves, believing no one would stop them.” As she talked, she kept glancing curiously at Michael.

“This is my husband, Lord Kintyre, Mrs. Conochie. Lady Campbell is his sister. Sir, Mrs. Conochie is the cook here at Shian. Tam and Flora are hers.”

“So I had collected,” Michael said, smiling and nodding politely when the cook turned from Pinkie and bobbed a curtsy.

“They told me what you did, sir, and I’m most grateful to ye.” She went on at length in this vein, repeating her thanks to Pinkie, expressing amazement that Sir Renfrew had died saving young Tam, and giving thanks to God for sending aid to the children in time. “And that great, elegant creature yonder,” she added abruptly, eyeing Cailean with the same curiosity she had shown toward Michael. “I am sure ’tis the largest dog I have ever seen, sir. Is it friendly, and all?”

“Quite friendly,” Michael assured her.

“But rather tired at the moment,” Pinkie added. “Cailean helped bring our rescuers to us, all the way from Oban.”

“Did he, now? What a clever fellow!”

Cailean, recognizing a friend, thumped his tail but remained curled up in front of the fire.

Mrs. Conochie glanced doubtfully at Bridget’s set face and said to Pinkie, “I will not intrude on you any longer, my lady. I did just want to say my thanks and to see if there is aught you will need for supper.”

“We’ll not be staying, Mrs. Conochie,” Chuff said from the doorway. “There will be men arriving from Dunraven soon, and we will go back there with them when they leave. You would find it hard to feed so many with what we keep here, but Dunraven is always prepared to accommodate Balcardane and any number of guests. We’ll leave Sir Renfrew’s body to be prepared for burial, however, if you will be kind enough to supervise that task.”

“Aye, I will, and gladly, but will his lady not wish to help, my lord?”

“She will not,” Bridget said evenly before anyone else could speak.

Mrs. Conochie said no more about the corpse, but she lingered to express her deep appreciation to Chuff for his part in the rescue, repeating herself to Connal when he returned. Then, with a final curtsy, she returned to her kitchen.

Without waiting for her footsteps to fade, Bridget said, “I never knew such a one for encouraging familiarity in servants, Pinkie. How you did let her go on!”

“I have known her since I was a child,” Pinkie said quietly. “She was a scullery maid at Balcardane when Chuff and I first went there to live.”

“Hardly a recommendation for friendship,” Bridget said with a sniff. “We were talking about more important matters, anyway, were we not, Michael?”

“Not so important that it excuses your rudeness, Bridget I merely said there were matters we must discuss.”

“That’s exactly what I mean, for goodness’ sake.” When he frowned, her lips tightened. “I know that to live in Edinburgh I must have a proper house,” she said, “but when Aunt Marsali returns, I can stay with her until we find a suitable one. I shall need clothing, too. People will expect me to mourn him for a year, I suppose, but although I shall purchase all the proper attire, I shan’t mourn him for anything like that long. He was horrid, and I’m glad he is dead, although it
was
thoughtful of him to die whilst rescuing the children, was it not?” Her spirits visibly lifting, she added, “Why, people might even call him a hero.”

“That will make it easier for you to mourn him,” Michael said dryly. “However, I was not speaking of your living arrangements or costume requirements. I referred to arrangements we must make before you can get your hands on any of his money. There is also the small matter of my debt to him.”

“But surely—” Breaking off, she looked at him in astonishment. “Do you mean to say that you now owe all that lovely money to me?”

“Of course I do. Our father owed it to Campbell, and I inherited the debt just as you will inherit his estate. Since I now owe that money to the estate, in due time it will be yours. Before then, however, if you are not to make a mull of things—”

When her chin rose sharply, he said hastily, “Don’t fly into the boughs. What I mean to say is that you cannot begin running up debts in the expectation that the estate will settle them. Since you do not know the extent of his fortune, that would be madness. For the present, I think you’d be wise to let me continue to frank you. You can keep a reckoning if you like,” he added shrewdly, “and repay me later.”

Her expression altered ludicrously. “A reckoning?”

Pinkie looked at Chuff and saw his lips twitch.

Meeting her look, he donned a more serious expression and said quietly, “I know you do not wish to hang on your brother’s sleeve now that you are a widow, ma’am. Indeed, I believe you will find it quite unnecessary to do so.”

Bridget looked more favorably at him. “How do you know?”

“Thanks to Duncan’s insistence that I understand my own fortune from the start, I have experience in such matters. You must learn as quickly as you can who manages Sir Renfrew’s affairs, then inform that person of your altered status. Once he knows, you can begin to receive an allowance from the estate. I should think it will take no longer than a sennight to put the matter in train.”

She looked at him gratefully. “I certainly would prefer that, sir.”

“I, too,” Michael assured her. “Nonetheless, even with an allowance, I think you must return to Dunbeither House for a time, at least. Penelope and I can go with you, if you like, to bear you company and to learn how matters stand there. You will not want to be thought uncaring, my dear, especially if you want your late husband to be remembered for his heroic deed. Indeed, you must not go into company for at least six months.”

Bridget began to look stormy again. “I will
not
stay at Dunbeither House for six months, Michael, and you need not think that I will. By then it will be the depths of winter, and even if it proves a mild one, I should be stuck there till March or April. I mean to spend the winter in Edinburgh.”

“We can discuss that later,” he said, clearly hoping to fend off another tantrum. “Doubtless we can arrange something more to your taste, but in the meantime, there are other important matters—”

“I cannot imagine what could be more important,” she snapped.

Chuff said evenly, “Perhaps you should decide what you intend to do with the corpse, ma’am.”

She looked at him in astonishment “Corpse? Goodness me, I don’t know what to do with it. Mrs. Conochie said she would look after it.”

“She can prepare it for burial, and one of the men here can make a coffin for it, but what then?”

“What do you mean, ‘what then’? Can you not just bury him here?”

“No, I most certainly cannot,” he said. “Of all the shatter-brained notions!”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with it. Someone must tell me. Michael?”

“I think we must make every effort to return his body to Dunbeither,” he said. “It is still cool enough, I think, for it to make the journey without suffering too much deterioration.”

“I hope you don’t mean for me to travel with it,” Bridget said. “I couldn’t!”

“You know,” Chuff said to her, “you are the most outrageous female. You were perfectly willing to run off with him—”

“I didn’t run off with him,” she snapped. “I thought he was someone else altogether. In fact, I…” Clearly realizing where this line of conversation was leading, she fell silent, flushing deeply. When the others remained expectantly silent, she muttered, “I don’t want to talk to you at all. You are mean and stupid.”

Pinkie could not resist looking at her brother to see if he realized what Bridget had thought.

Chuff seemed oblivious.

Michael said, “You still thought he was your secret admirer, didn’t you?”

“Me,” Chuff exclaimed. “Nay then, I’d never make such a cake of myself, not over any lass, and certainly not over such a shrew!”

“A shrew, am I?” Bridget’s voice was shrill.

“That’s enough,” Michael snapped. Turning back to Chuff, he said more calmly, “How soon can Balcardane’s people be ready to receive us at Dunraven?”

“They are always ready, so we can leave as soon as the others arrive. We must rest the horses we rode from Oban, and make arrangements to return them, but there are others here, of course, and boats for them who prefer them. The wind has died enough to make the crossing safe.”

“Is it a long walk?”

“It won’t take more than an hour,” Chuff said. “One crosses at narrows a mile or so north of here.”

Michael looked thoughtfully at Pinkie. “Have you walked it, lass?”

“Aye, sir, many times.”

“Good.” Turning back to Chuff, he said, “I think I’d enjoy the walk, and since she seems fully recovered from her ordeal, I’ll take my lass along with me.”