by Emma Fraser
Jessie stayed in bed, straining her ears, but all she could hear was Archie’s voice: he was talking in a low, urgent tone.
She pushed away the covers, shivering as her feet hit the cold floor. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders and went through to the other room. Her mother was looking up at Archie with imploring eyes, her cheeks streaked with tears.
‘What is it?’ Jessie asked. ‘What’s the matter?’
Mam wiped her face with the edge of her apron. She’s so thin, Jessie thought. Why did it take me so long to see it?
‘Your brother’s leaving.’
‘Leaving?’ Jessie echoed. ‘To go where? Why?’
She stepped closer and peered at Archie’s face. There was a livid mark along one side. ‘What’s happened? Are you hurt?’
He raised a hand to his cheek, and when he did, Jessie saw that his knuckles were grazed. Her heart started to race. Something bad had happened – she just knew it. ‘Archie, Mam. Tell me what’s going on!’
Archie looked at their mother and shook his head slightly. He took Jessie’s hands in his and squeezed them. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘I tripped and hit my face on a rock.’
The mark on his face wasn’t one that would have been made by a rock. It looked more like the lash of a thin branch.
‘You’re going away?’
‘I have to, Jessie.’ He glanced at their mother, who was stony-eyed. ‘There’s nothing here for me. Not any more. There’s a ship leaving Glasgow for America on Thursday. If I get the boat from Dunvegan tomorrow morning, I’ll be able to get onto it. But I have to set out now.’
How long had Archie been planning this? Why hadn’t he said anything before? If he went, Jessie couldn’t even go to Portree to school: Mam couldn’t be left on her own.
‘But you promised,’ Jessie cried. ‘You promised you’d stay so I could go to school.’
‘I know I did, Jessie, and I’ll make it up to you one day, but I have to leave here.’ He led her over to a chair. ‘You know how much I’ve always wanted to go to America. John the blacksmith has a ticket that his brother, who died from typhus, was going to use for the sailing on Thursday and he’s sold it to me. If I wait, it might be months before I can get another berth.’
‘But—’
‘I’ll send money when I can. And as soon as I’m settled I’ll send for you and Mam. Don’t you see, Jessie, it could be a chance for all of us.’
‘I don’t want to go to America and neither does Mam. I want to go away to school and then to Edinburgh so I can be a nurse.’
‘You can be a nurse in America. They must need nurses there too.’
Mam stood up and started taking Archie’s clothes from the drawer of the sideboard. She held his good sweater to her face for a moment before placing it in a paper bag.
‘Mam! Tell him not to go!’ Jessie cried. If Archie knew Mam was sick he would never leave them. ‘Tell him that you’re—’
‘Jessie!’ The word was like a whiplash above the sound of the storm. ‘Eisd! Enough!’ Her mother’s voice softened but Jessie could see the pain in her eyes, even in the dim light from the oil lamp. ‘He has to leave,’ she continued. ‘He’s right. There’s nothing for him here. Only years of working all the hours God sends just so we have enough to eat.’
Jessie could hardly believe her ears. She knew Archie wanted to go to America, but he’d agreed to wait until she had finished her training. Why was he going back on his promise to her? Was it something to do with Isabel? Had he decided that now she was going away he could no longer bear to be here? Or did he have hopes that, if he earned enough, he would have a chance with her? If he did, he was mistaken. No matter how much money he made, he’d never be able to marry her. That was just the way it was, and no amount of wishing could change it. She had to make him see that.
‘Is this anything to do with the doctor’s daughter?’
Archie started and narrowed his eyes. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Are you going because you think you’ll make your fortune and then she’ll court you? Is that it?’
Relief crossed Archie’s face. ‘Oh, Jessie, do you think I don’t know that Isabel isn’t for me? At least, not now. But you’re right in one respect. In America a man isn’t judged by where he comes from but by who he is and what he makes of himself. That’s one of the reasons I need to go.’
‘One of the reasons?’ A sob caught in her throat. Couldn’t Archie see that she needed him here?
Archie clamped his lips together as if he’d said too much.
Mam stepped forward and placed her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. ‘Let him go, Jessie. It’s for the best.’
Jessie looked from her to Archie. They had made up their minds. How could he do this to her? With him gone, Jessie would have to stay to work the croft. There was no way Mam could manage it on her own.
‘I hate you, Archie MacCorquodale,’ she cried. ‘I don’t care if I never see you again.’ She pulled her shawl over her head and ran out of the house.
By the time she returned he was gone.
Two days later the policeman from Portree arrived at their door looking for Archie. Mam was up to her elbows in flour and Jessie was sweeping the floor.
‘I’d like to speak to your son,’ he said.
His serious expression frightened Jessie. She glanced at Mam who had paled, but then calmly wiped her hands with a cloth.
‘He’s not here.’
The policeman, a man in his forties with a greasy moustache, frowned. ‘Then I shall wait for him.’
‘I don’t expect him to return for some time.’ Mam moved the kettle from the side of the stove onto the heat. ‘Will you take a cup of tea? You’ve come quite a way.’
The policeman shook his head. ‘When will he be back?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Why are you looking for my brother?’ Jessie put the broom aside and stepped forward. ‘Is he accused of something?’
‘You’ll have heard that Lord Glendale’s son is missing.’
‘Aye,’ Mam answered, turning away to place the kettle on the fire. ‘What of it?’
They’d been aware that he hadn’t returned home after going riding. How could they not be? Every man in the village had been dragged from his work to search for him. Gossip was that he’d stopped over at someone’s house and was drinking. He’d been known to disappear for days at a time but he always turned up sooner or later.
‘Your son was seen fighting with Lord Maxwell on the day he went missing.’
Jessie’s blood ran cold as she remembered the mark on Archie’s face and his grazed knuckles. Dear Lord, had Archie harmed the man? Was that the real reason he’d left? She slid a glance at her mother, who was still fussing with the kettle. When she turned back to the policeman her face was white. ‘Who is this person who claims to have seen my son fight with Lord Maxwell?’ she demanded.
The policeman puffed himself up, like a male swan spreading its feathers. He folded his arms and glared at Jessie. ‘I’m asking the questions here.’
‘Was it Lachie McPhee?’ Mam persisted.
The policeman consulted his notebook and his eyes flickered. ‘What if it was?’
‘Lachie McPhee has no reason to like my son.’
‘If anyone was fighting with Lord Maxwell,’ Jessie said, ‘it would be him. He fights with everyone, and his daughter, Flora—’
‘Hush, Jessie.’
The policeman ignored Jessie and kept his beady eyes on Mam. ‘It says here that it was Flora McPhee who saw your son fighting with his lordship. At least, that was what her father told us. But when we questioned her, she denied saying anything to anyone. She says her father drinks and makes up stories. Others say the same.’
‘See, now,’ Mam said. ‘If Flora says she didn’t see it, you should believe her.’
‘We might have believed her if we had been able to find his lordship. If we could question your son, we could clear up
this matter. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to be afraid of. Now, I must ask you again, where is he?’
Jessie’s mother glanced at Jessie and clasped her hands together. ‘I don’t know for certain.’
‘Is he up on the croft or fishing? Just tell me where he is and I’ll go and find him.’
Mam took a deep breath. ‘He’s gone to Glasgow,’ she said finally. ‘There was a difference of opinion between us. You know how sons can be with their mothers. It was over something silly – I forget what. I imagine he’ll be back in a week or two, once he cools down.’
Jessie didn’t think anything could shock her more than the police looking for her brother, clearly of the mind that he had had something to do with Lord Maxwell’s disappearance, but she could never have imagined hearing a lie slip so easily from her mother’s lips – in God’s hearing. Why didn’t she just tell him Archie had gone to America to look for work? Many had gone before him and, no doubt, many would follow.
‘What was this “difference of opinion” about?’ the policeman asked.
‘I—’ Mam was clearly struggling to come up with another lie.
‘He said he wanted to find work away from this island,’ Jessie said quickly. ‘He said that he was tired of working his fingers to the bone for nothing.’ She forced a smile. ‘You’re a Skye man, sir, and must know how hard life can be. We didn’t want him to go. If it’s hard for a man to make a living here, it’s even harder for two women on their own. There was a row, as Mam said, but Archie went anyway. He’ll be back soon enough.’
Jessie sent a silent prayer upwards, hoping God would forgive her.
The policeman looked unconvinced. ‘Mrs MacCorquodale, if you know where Archie is, it will be better for you all if you tell me. At the moment we only want to ask him some questions, but if I have to send word to the mainland for the constables there to search for him, it will not look good for your son.’
‘As soon as we have an address for him we’ll let you know,’ Jessie said. ‘He won’t leave us long without one.’
Jessie’s mother placed her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. ‘My Archie is a good man. As God is my witness, I swear he would never hurt anyone.’
‘Then he has nothing to fear from our questions.’ The policeman looked uncertain – as if now he couldn’t drag Archie off to Portree gaol, he didn’t know what else to do. ‘I’ll go for the time being, but if you hear from your son, you must inform the police station in Portree. If he’s gone to ground somewhere, word will reach us, and we’ll know he has something to hide.’ He picked up his hat. ‘I’ll send a telegram to Glasgow and ask them to look for him there. In the meantime I’ll bid you good day.’
After he left, her mother collapsed into a chair. Jessie poured her a glass of water from the jug on the table and waited until she had taken a couple of sips and some colour had returned to her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell the policeman that Archie had gone to America, Mam? Why did you lie and say he was in Glasgow?’
‘Because if I told them he was on his way to America, they would have found out easily which ship he was on and would be waiting for him. Perhaps they wouldn’t even allow him to travel.’
‘You can’t think he has anything to do with this, Mam. Not Archie!’
She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘All I know is that he didn’t harm anyone.’
‘Then he has to come back to clear his name. Otherwise they’ll believe him guilty and he can never return to us.’
‘If Lord Maxwell turns up dead, then someone will have to be held accountable. I cannot take the chance that my son is blamed for something he didn’t do.’
Jessie knew she was right.
‘I knew nothing good would ever come of his friendship with the doctor’s daughter,’ Mam muttered.
A shiver ran up Jessie’s spine. Lord Maxwell had been on Galtrigill, as had Isabel and Archie. She knew Archie cared more than he should for the doctor’s daughter. And there had been the gossip from one of the maids at Borreraig House about his lordship calling on Isabel and being turned away. Not once, but several times. Had he and Archie fought over Isabel?
‘What do you mean, Mam? What do you know that you’re not telling?’
She looked startled, almost as if she’d forgotten Jessie was in the room. ‘I mean nothing. Nothing.’
Jessie crouched by her side. ‘Please, Mam, if you do know something, you have to tell me. Did Archie have anything to do with whatever has happened to Lord Maxwell? Is that the real reason he left?’
‘I’m telling you the same thing I told the policeman. Archie is a good man – as you well know. Now, leave it alone, Jessie.’
From the determined set of her mother’s lips, Jessie knew she’d get no more from her. She made up her mind. ‘I’m going out, Mam. I won’t be long.’ She took her shawl from behind the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. She had to speak to Isabel, before she too left Skye.
Jessie marched down the dirt road leading to Borreraig House with no idea of what she would say when she got there. All she did know was that she had to speak to Isabel – to ask her whether she’d found Archie that day or seen Lord Maxwell. Had she witnessed the fight between them? Perhaps she could vouch for Archie – tell the policeman he had been with her that afternoon.
The truth was, she didn’t know what she hoped to achieve by speaking to Isabel, but she couldn’t sit at home and spend the rest of her life wondering what had really happened.
But as Borreraig House came into view from behind the small copse that shielded it from the road, the eerie stillness hanging over the house sent a shiver up Jessie’s spine. A raven cawed, the sound ringing through the still air, its wings flapping over her head in a black blur. All the curtains were drawn, although it was still light. It was a sign that someone in the house had died. Everyone knew ravens foretold death, and Dr MacKenzie had been ill.
She went around the side of the house to the kitchen door. She knocked briefly and, without waiting for an answer, walked straight into the kitchen.
Chrissie MacDonald, the MacKenzies’ cook, was pummelling dough, her face streaked with tears, while Seonag sat at the table polishing the silver. She, too, had been crying. They looked blankly at Jessie.
‘Is it the doctor?’ she asked bluntly.
‘Ochone! Ochone! He passed away this morning,’ Chrissie replied.
‘Oh, no!’ Dr MacKenzie had been a fine man and a fine doctor.
Chrissie sucked in a breath. ‘We’re all at sixes and sevens. There’s a lot to do. There’ll be folk from the big houses wanting to pay their respects and the house is to be closed up.’ She glanced at Jessie and frowned. ‘What is it you’re wanting?’
‘I need to speak to Miss MacKenzie. It’s important.’
The cook wiped her hands on a towel and gave Jessie an incredulous look. ‘You’ll not be able to speak to Miss Isabel,’ she said. ‘She has the scarlet fever too. Poor mite doesn’t know her father has died and we don’t know if she’ll come through either.’ A soft sob came from Seonag. ‘But she’s strong. Her papa wasn’t. She placed a hand on Seonag’s shoulder. ‘Enough of your crying, lass. Away upstairs and see what the mistress needs.’
Seonag scuttled off, wiping her eyes with the hem of her apron.
Jessie was uncertain of what to do next. Archie gone, Lord Maxwell missing, the doctor dead and Isabel sick: how could the world have turned upside down in three days?
‘Whatever it is you need to ask Miss Isabel will have to wait,’ Chrissie continued. ‘As soon as she’s fit to travel, they’re leaving for Edinburgh. The doctor is to be buried there.’ She sniffed. ‘Seems the island soil is not good enough for Madam. If you ask me, the doctor would have liked to be laid to rest here, with the people who loved him.’
It was no use. Isabel, even if she wasn’t sick herself, would be in no state to answer questions.
‘Please give the family my respects,’ she said. ‘Tell them they’ll be in my prayers.’
Chrissie nodded. ‘I will, lass. Now you’d best be going.’
Jessie pulled her shawl over her head. She couldn’t speak to Isabel now, but as soon as the doctor’s daughter was better, she’d come back. One way or another she’d find out the truth.
Chapter 13
It was as if someone had placed a weight over Isabel’s eyelids. Her heart was pounding, her muscles frozen with fear. Someone was chasing her. She didn’t know who or why, but she knew that if she didn’t open her eyes he would catch her. Using every ounce of her strength she forced her lids apart.
She was in bed, in her room, and it was dark. What time was it?
The memory of Charles and his hands on her body rushed back. He was the one who had been chasing her. He had tried to violate her. She’d been running, trying to get to Papa. Papa! She had to speak to him. Tell him what had happened.
‘Papa?’ Her throat was dry and the word came out as a croak. ‘Papa,’ she tried again, her voice stronger this time.
A figure detached itself from the chair next to her bed and bent over her. Isabel smelt violets. ‘Mama?’
Her mother’s face swam into view. She was drawn and pale, and her eyes were awash with tears. Did Mama know what had happened?
‘Ssh, darling. Don’t try to speak. You’ve been very ill and need to rest.’
She’d been ill? She raised a hand to her throat. It was painful to swallow. She remembered feeling hot back there on the moors. Hot and dizzy.
Her mother pressed a cup to Isabel’s lips. ‘Drink this, darling.’
Isabel managed a swallow, but lifting her head took so much effort that she fell back on the pillows, exhausted. Where was her father? Why wasn’t he here? ‘Where’s Papa?’ she asked. ‘I want him.’ Terror squeezed her chest. And Charles? Had he told everyone that she had kissed him, even though it was against her will? Did everyone know that his hands had been all over her body?
‘Papa isn’t here,’ Mama said, her voice shaking. ‘You need to sleep now, Isabel. We’ll talk more when you’re stronger.’
Isabel wanted to get out of bed and find her father, but her body wouldn’t obey her commands. What if he wasn’t coming because he was angry with her? What if he’d heard what had happened and blamed her? She should never have been walking on her own. Not at eighteen. He was right to be angry. She slumped back on her pillows. She would sleep a little and then she would speak to him.