Susan Johnson (39 page)

Adam returned in three days. But his unorthodox arrival was a panic-stricken, whipped, and spurred gallop up the long drive. His shouts of alarm carried across the tranquil winter landscape—faintly at first, and as he neared, his yells echoed from the high stone walls, frightening the peacocks on the terrace lawn, and bringing several of the staff racing from their duties on the grounds. Dankeil Willie was roused from the main house so he was waiting at the steps of the entrance when Adam hauled his lathered mount to a skidding stop on the gravel.

“Dragoons! At the tavern in Kelso!” he cried, leaping from his horse. “Come to take the Laird away!” Racing toward the bank of steps leading into the house, he shouted, “Where is he?”

Already sprinting back up the stone staircase, Willie shouted, “Follow me.” And as the two men rushed through the double doors held open for them by two footmen, Willie snapped orders to the lackeys in the entrance hall. He needed Mrs. Reid, he shouted as he ran, two grooms, Munro, and Kinmont to meet him in the
breakfast room immediately. There was no time for finesse or respectful courtesies; Lady Elizabeth would know soon enough anyway.

“How much time?” Willie tersely queried, dashing headlong down the corridor toward the east wing. He didn’t ask why; he knew the Laird of Ravensby had enemies enough in the current embroiled state of the nation.

Keeping pace at Willie’s side, breathless after his headlong flight from Kelso, Adam said, panting, “I left Nab … and Dougie to buy them … some rounds of French … brandy. Hopefully … an hour. Maybe longer …” The men’s boots beat a racing tattoo on the parquet flooring, the richly decorated rooms flashing by in colorful progression as they sped toward the breakfast room: a wink of gilt-edged mirror, the sheen of brocaded wall-covering, crimson, cobalt, verdant green, the mellow glow of polished brass
torchéres
, Ming vases, Dutch porcelain, painted ancestors stiff in Court costume.

And they burst into the sunny morning room like cannon shot.

One look at their faces and Johnnie was out of his chair. In a flashing moment more he’d gestured them out of the room. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured to Elizabeth, who’d half risen in surprise. Leaning across the small table, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Adam was on an errand for me.”

“I’m not a child who needs protection.” She knew Willie would never have so impetuously intruded without serious reasons.

“I’ll tell you when I get back.” He smiled. “Five minutes,” he murmured, holding his hand up, fingers splayed. And he spun away, already planning how he was going to garrote Matthew Graham with his bare hands.

“The Edinburgh dragoons are in Kelso. Come to get you,” Willie brusquely said when Johnnie shut the door behind him.

“I saw them not twenty minutes ago,” Adam said, “at Wat Harden’s.”

“For me?” It wasn’t Elizabeth. “Did you hear why?” Politics was always a dangerous business, but enormous
sums of money, men’s livelihoods, were at stake in the deteriorating relationship with England; which of his enemies had felt him so dangerous to his aims?

“The major said you … were being delivered up to Edinburgh … to answer a rape charge,” Adam replied, his chest heaving, his face flushed red from his exertions.

“A lie that is!”” Dankiel Willie’s eyes snapped affront.

“But it’s the only charge not included in the Indemnity Act,” Johnnie thoughtfully noted.

“They’ll emit letters of fire and sword against you,” Adam said, the dread words etched on every man’s liver.

“Outlawed.” Johnnie’s voice had gone very soft. “So when I’m banished or hanged, my estates are forfeit, with no hope of pardon. And Elizabeth will be obliged to testify, so he’ll have her back in his hands. He’s thought of everything, apparently.” It wasn’t as though Johnnie hadn’t considered retaliation from Harold Godfrey, yet he’d not anticipated such thoroughness. Godfrey was by nature a plunger; the subtle machinations smelled of Queensberry

“And what of Matthew Graham?” Johnnie’s tone was so normal once again, Adam wondered whether he misunderstood the degree of his peril. He’d been in effect sentenced to death wherever he could be found.

“You don’t have much time, Johnnie,” he nervously declared.

“Nor do any of us.” The two men’s eyes held for a moment. “You’ll all have to leave Goldiehouse,” Johnnie went on, “or at least those of you they might wish to impress for witnesses. The Tolbooth isn’t a healthy place to await a court appearance. But tell me first of Matthew Graham, so I know where else to expect attack.”

“He’s huddled frightened inside Carlisle Castle now, but when he hears of this, he’ll come sniffing round like crows at a carcass.”

Johnnie nodded, apparently agreeing. Catching sight of Kinmont and Munro, he waited until they reached him before motioning over the staff Willie had summoned.

“Some of you may have heard already the dragoons
have come from Edinburgh for me,” Johnnie said. “I’m being summoned to Criminal Court.”

“They’re out to hang ye then,” Mrs. Reid interjected. “Ye’d best be gone.”

“I’m on my way. I’ve only time to give instructions once, so everyone listen carefully.” And then he issued a rapid-fire round of orders: the valuables that could be carried away in an hour were defined and allocated for safe destinations; arrangements were made for housing his staff at homes of his friends and relatives; his stable had to be dispersed so Queensberry and Godfrey wouldn’t profit by his prime bloodstock; when it came to his library, he sighed. Reputed to be the greatest library in Britain, it was impossible to move at such short notice. “I need provisions for Lady Elizabeth and myself for a fortnight, Mrs. Reid. Munro, Robbie must be found immediately. As he’s my heir, they’ll be out to capture him as well. Tell him I’ll need a ship off the coast as soon as possible. You know Robbie’s haunts in East Lothian. Kinmont, take what records you feel shouldn’t fall into England’s hands. Adam, clear out the weapons room and give everything to the men to take away. In the meantime,” he briskly went on, “Lady Elizabeth and I will await the outcome of my trial in a more salubrious location than the Tolbooth.” The outcome was inevitable and, whether he was present or not, he knew the verdict had already been decided.

He took a few minutes then to answer the rush of questions, assuring his staff that he intended to return, and when he did, they’d once again be welcomed back to Goldiehouse. But he didn’t linger over his farewells.

“You don’t want a guard?” Munro asked when the staff had dispersed to see to their tasks.

“I don’t want to attract attention with too large a party. I anticipate a week or so at Dens Cottage to give the hue and cry time to settle, and then we’ll make for the coast. That should give Robbie time to bring a ship into Margarth Cove. Stay with the ship; I’ll need you with me abroad.”

“Will Elizabeth be able to ride that distance?”

“It’s my greatest worry,” Johnnie replied, his brows
drawn together in a mild scowl. “The rest of us could fight our way across Scotland if need be. But I can’t with her.…”

“We can see that the way is clear into Margarth, at least,” Munro assured him.

Johnnie smiled. “Then we’ve only twenty miles to manage from the forest’s edge to the coast. If there’re no patrols on the roads, we’ll see you in a fortnight.”

The cousins embraced, perhaps for the last time in the home they’d both known from childhood, and then Johnnie returned to the breakfast room.

Elizabeth’s face drained of color as he explained what he’d heard, what was required of them. “I’m sorry, Johnnie,” she whispered when he’d finished. “It’s my father, of course,” she added in a small, tortured voice, overwhelmed with self-reproach, horrified at the terrible price he was paying for loving her.

He went to her immediately, kneeling beside her chair, taking her hand in his. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said very softly, knowing Godfrey’s animosity was of long standing, separate from her. “It’s Queensberry, too, your father’s not acting alone,” he added, his dark hair limned by the sunshine pouring in the windows of the gilded breakfast room, an incongruous setting for such appalling events.

They shouldn’t be talking about dreadful possibilities, of treachery and persecution, Elizabeth thought, with the day so bright and beautiful. “What if you went to Edinburgh?” she asked in a small, hopeful voice. “I’d testify that you never raped me; I’d tell them how much I love you. How I was more willing than you, more wanton. It wasn’t your fault, Johnnie. I could make them believe me.…”

He was gently stroking her hand, his long, slender fingers dark against her pale skin. “It takes considerable influence to bring charges against me, sweetheart. The particular type of accusation doesn’t concern them; if not rape, they’d have trumped up something else.” And he was convicted already, he knew; the trial would be a mere formality. “What we’re going to do now,” he said, carefully keeping his voice reasonable, “is leave Scotland
for a time. Until I can arrange some settlement …” There wasn’t time now to go into the complex process necessary to organize his partisans, to outmaneuver Queensberry’s greed and Godfrey’s need for vengeance. He shifted his position, restless, precious minutes ticking by. “But we haven’t more than an hour right now.…” He came to his feet.

“Sometimes I wish my father were dead,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice trembling with emotion, wondering if her father’s perfidious blood had been passed on to her. She felt utterly coldhearted at the moment.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Johnnie declared. And to the startled query in her eyes, he said, “You had gone to Hotchane already; you weren’t there.” He grimaced at lost opportunity. “And I was naive enough to be taken in by your father.”

“One learns.” A chill ruthlessness cooled her words to ice.

“One learns,” he quietly agreed. “And we must fly now, love, or we’ll be spending tomorrow in the Tolbooth.”

Taking both her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet, the baby very large already, her health in the coming days a distinct worry to him.

“We’ll ride very slowly,” he said, beginning to walk toward the door, her hand in his, “so the travel shouldn’t be wearing on you. And we’ll wait out the search parties at my gamekeeper’s cottage.” Only a few of his staff knew of its location.

“I can ride, Johnnie. You know I’ve never felt better. There’s no need to coddle me.”

But he insisted she wait downstairs in the small drawing room just off the entrance hall while he went upstairs to supervise the packing. He needed money and pistols, and ammunition enough to see them to the coast; he wanted to see that Helen packed warm gowns for Elizabeth, and he had her send Elizabeth’s cape and boots and shawl down so she was ready when he came to fetch her. He put a miniature of his mother and father in his coat pocket, then went to his dressing room to see
that his valet packed the shaving kit his father had given him when he left for Paris.

Elizabeth had put on her fur-lined cape, the sealskin soft as velvet. Booted and gloved, a lavender plaid draped over the green wool of her cape, she paced, feeling not only the disastrous cause of Johnnie’s adversity, but useless at such a harrowing time.

“Let me do something,” she pleaded when Mrs. Reid ran into the room for the second time with a question about food.

“Ye just sit still, my Lady, and take care of ye and the bairn,” the housekeeper replied, pushing her toward a chair. “I’ve a houseful o’ help. Now tell me whether ye wish sweet wine or claret, for the Laird dinna know.”

And the next half hour passed with numerous staff rushing in to query her about her preferences on food, clothing, reading material—even her jewelry.

“Thank God,” she said with anxious relief when Johnnie appeared at the doorway, booted, spurred, a dull green plaid wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m going mad with worry just sitting here. No one will let me do anything.”

They were only following his orders, but he smiled and said, “You can ride your little bottom off now, my darling Bitsy. The next hours should be more eventful.”

“Will they harm Goldiehouse?” she asked, rising with less grace than in the past.

“We’ll lose some portraits and family papers. I don’t expect Queensberry will want to be reminded of the Carres. But”—he shrugged then, as though he’d reconciled himself to the inevitable—“I’m sure he’ll enjoy my home. He shouldn’t become too attached though,” he added with a modicum of his familiar impudence.

“You can’t defend yourself against this?”

“Not at the moment.” Moving toward her, he smiled, her beauty always a source of pleasure to him. “But eventually I will,” he said, taking her gloved hand in his. “We’ll talk about this later.” He had to see that she was safe away.

When he lifted her onto the padded pillion, he indicated a holstered flintlock pistol hanging from the saddle
pommel. “It’s small enough for a lady to use,” he said. “Redmond tells me you’re his best pupil.”

Swallowing a twinge of apprehension, she answered with what she hoped was equal equanimity, “Just let me know what you want me to shoot.”

“If it comes to that,” he quietly said, arranging her cape so it covered her legs. “I’ll be very specific.”

And within the hour, Johnnie and Elizabeth were away from Goldiehouse with two packhorses and enough silver and supplies to see them safely to the Continent. They traveled at a sedate walk, avoiding the villages, traveling cross-country when they could, keeping to the valleys as much as possible. He would have preferred traveling at night, but the dragoons in Kelso wouldn’t wait for that convenience, so they kept off the main tracks, and once they reached the forest of Dens in the early afternoon, he stopped looking over his shoulder.

The dense undergrowth concealed them as did the towering ash, sycamores, and firs planted by his grandfather. And they stopped a short distance inside the tree line, safe from detection. He lifted Elizabeth down from her pillion so she could stretch her legs.

“Does anything hurt?” he solicitously asked, still holding her, his hands firmly at her waist, bending his head so their eyes were level. “We’re almost there,” he added.