A Dangerous Past

by Clare Jayne

  A Dangerous Past (Campbell & MacPherson 3)

  Third Novel of the Historical Mystery Series

  By Clare Jayne

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2018 Clare Jayne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission in writing of the author, except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews.

  All names, places, characters and incidents in this book are fictional and any resemblance to any person, business, place or event is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Free To Be Cover Designs.

  Chapter One

  Edinburgh, March 1789

  “MAY I speak to you, Miss?”

  Ishbel looked up from the medical textbook she had been studying at the sound of a weak, shaky voice that sounded nothing like the usual cheerful tone of her lady’s maid. Lucy’s face had a pinched, shadowed look to it. Ishbel hurriedly got to her feet and put an arm round her shoulders, leading her to a chair in the bedroom and waiting until she was seated before fetching the chair she had been sitting on at the desk, then placing it opposite that of the other woman. She sat down and asked, “Lucy, what is wrong?”

  “I just heard that a friend of mine is dead, Miss.”

  “You have my deepest sympathies. If you need to take some time off from your job to help the family...”

  “... I think she was murdered,” Lucy interrupted.

  Ishbel’s heart fell. She had turned her back on the attempts she and Ewan MacPherson had made to solve crimes after the disasters of the first two matters they had been involved with. She might have been able to cope with the result of the Viscount Inderly’s court case, where he had received only a fine after causing the death of Aileas Jones, but finding out that Mr Fillinister would hang for killing Duke Raden, who had mistreated his sister, had destroyed her faith in the justice of the Scottish law courts. She had rejected Ewan, something she had regretted every day since his departure, because of her belief that they had done more harm than good in their work. The last thing she wished for was to be pulled back into dealing with another murder now.

  She could not ignore Lucy’s plea for help, though. Lucy had worked for her for nearly five years and had swiftly become a confidante and friend, helping Ishbel in the unladylike pursuits of studying at Edinburgh University and later solving criminal activities while the rest of Edinburgh society showered disapproval down on her. Before Ishbel met Ewan, Lucy had been the only person who was wholeheartedly on her side; even her cousin, Harriette, disliked her academic interests. Ishbel must do whatever she could for Lucy now.

  “Tell me everything you know about the crime, starting with how you came to know your friend,” she said.

  Lucy nodded, agitation fading. She believed that a positive outcome would come from Ishbel being involved in the matter and Ishbel desperately hoped that she would not disappoint her. “Her name is – was Morag Duncan. We grew up on the same street, four houses away from each other and, being the same age, we became good friends and for years we spent all our time in and out of each other’s houses, playing together and sharing hopes and secrets. Morag was twelve when she got a job in a clothing factory and family friends let her live with them, as they were closer to where she worked than her parents’ house was. She came back to visit them most weeks at first, and I often saw her, but she gradually returned less and less often and, of course, when I was fourteen I came to work for you, Miss, and was given a room here. It must be six years since I last saw Morag but our families still live in the same houses. Ma heard from Mrs Duncan what had happened and, knowing from me about the killers you’ve stopped, she said you might be able to discover the truth of how Morag died. Will you help us, Miss? We all need to understand why Morag was killed.”

  It seemed that Ishbel’s desire to escape the world of criminals had failed. She could only resolve to get a better result this time than she had been able to achieve before. “I promise I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to your friend.”

  Chapter Two

  “A LETTER for you, sir.”

  Ewan took the folded parchment from the silver tray his butler held out. “Thank you, MacCuaig.”

  The butler withdrew and Ewan broke the thick seal of red wax and opened the letter. He recognised his sister’s writing at once and smiled, happy to hear from someone he loved. At least he still mattered to Matilda. It had been three months since he had last seen Miss Campbell, after her assertion that she did not wish continue her association with him. Even knowing how much he loved her, she had dismissed him from her life as if he were no more than a casual acquaintance. Before that he had actually begun to believe that she returned his affection and that they could have a happy life together.

  Refusing to allow himself to dwell, yet again, on the past, Ewan took a fortifying sip of chocolate and began to read the letter.

  My dearest brother, I have news that I hope will be as delightful for you as it is for me. Lord Picton has grown disillusioned by the growing decadence of London society and has decided to move our family to Edinburgh.

  Matilda was coming home. It was what he had always wanted. Seven years older than he, Matilda had been more mother than sister to him for much of their childhood, looking after him while their mother’s health declined. Matilda was already gone – living with her husband in London – when their father became ill and the transition from youth to the master of an estate had been a difficult one for Ewan to handle alone. After six years apart, he would have his family back and not just the two of them: Matilda and Picton had three small children, a son and two daughters. Ewan had not even met his youngest niece, born just last year, and could not wait to do so. He returned eagerly to the letter, to find out what else his sister had to say.

  I told Lord Picton that you would have no objection to us residing with you while he finds a house for us and I hope this will cause you no inconvenience.

  On the contrary, Ewan would have wanted nothing else. He stood, letter still in his hand, and walked across the room to ring the bell. His butler appeared at once.

  “MacCuaig, would you have the staff make the necessary arrangements for us to receive visitors for an extended stay? My sister and her family are returning here.”

  The butler’s craggy face brightened into a smile, one of only a handful Ewan had ever seen. “To live, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “On behalf of all the staff, may I express my pleasure at the news?”

  “Thank you, MacCuaig. It has considerably brightened my own day.”

  “When should I tell the maids to have the bed chambers ready, sir?”

  Ewan looked down at the letter, his eyes searching through it for a date and he smiled again when he found it. “They will be here in a fortnight.”

  “And we shall be ready to receive them, sir.”

  When his butler had left, Ewan resumed his place at the dining table, his meal forgotten as he read the remainder of the letter.

  Rebecca and Jamie are excited to see their Uncle Ewan again and I know you will adore Anne, who is the most lovely and well-behaved baby. My husband and I have only one concern, that I am certain you can resolve for us. We have heard reports from acquaintances in Edinburgh that you have become entangled with a woman of sordid background and have been spending time in the company of people of low birth and character. I am certain, knowing as I do your upstanding character, that a misunderstanding must have occurred and wait for you to allay our fears. Your loving sister, Matilda.

  A chill ran through him as he read the final sentences and he felt offended on Miss Campbell’s behalf at hearing that she had been described in such a way. He had not mentioned h
is recent involvement in criminal matters in his latest letters to his sister as he had anticipated explaining them to her in person in his intended summer visit to her family in London. He had been sure she would understand his motives in undertaking the work if he could see her face-to-face and tell her how important it was to the families involved. He should have realised that she would have kept in touch with some of her friends, who would have given her the worst interpretation of his actions.

  He stood up, intending to go to his study and compose a letter to Matilda that said why he had begun solving crimes with Miss Campbell, but then he realised with a stab of pain that there was no longer any urgent necessity for him to do so. His relationship with Ishbel was over, as was the work they had undertaken together to catch criminals. All he needed to tell his sister was that he would explain the matter to her fully when he saw her and that it was in the past and could, therefore, cast no stain upon the character of their family.

  Picton was the old-fashioned type – rather stuffy in Ewan’s private opinion – so, although it was the last thing he wanted, perhaps it was for the best that his time spent hunting down murderers was over.

  The door to the dining room opened and MacCuaig told him in a tone that dripped with disapproval, “Miss Campbell is here to see you, sir.”

  Ewan’s heart jumped at the words. It was almost as if she had responded to his thoughts about her. Ishbel would not call here at his home except for the most important of reasons. Could she have changed her mind and decided to marry him after all? He could think of nothing else that would bring her here after they had been out of touch for so long. “Please show her in.”

  “If that is your desire, sir.” MacCuaig didn’t quite give a sigh of displeasure but it was a close thing. He vanished, reappearing an instant later with Ishbel, who had a young woman with her that Ewan recognised as her lady’s maid. At least she was not here without a chaperone, although he doubted that Edinburgh society would view her visit to an unmarried man’s house as anything other than scandalous if anyone discovered it. Such behaviour would, of course, be forgiven if an engagement announcement swiftly followed it.

  “Miss Campbell.” He bowed to her.

  She responded with a curtsy that, as always, was a touch clumsy. It was still endearing to him. “Mr MacPherson.”

  She was as beautiful as ever, outfitted in a green walking dress and paisley shawl that complemented her pale complexion and the rich copper coloured curls that showed beneath her favourite wide-brimmed hat. Her expressive eyes held a nervous expression that he at once felt the need to alleviate.

  “Please would you have a seat. May I have refreshments brought in?” While it was still breakfast time for him, he knew that she would have been awake for several hours, her attendance at university lectures meaning that she did not keep to the fashionable hours of late nights and a breakfast at ten or eleven in the morning.

  “No. Thank you.” She sat down on an oak chair near the fireplace, the firelight giving warmth to her delicate features. “I know I should not have called upon you here but I could not request that you visit my home after our last meeting. I have no right to ask such a thing but a friend of Lucy’s –” She gestured to her maid “ – has been killed and I have agreed to help discover what happened.”

  He struggled to take in the words. She was not here because she had missed him or had regretted turning down his offer of marriage. Anger arose in him at the callousness of her behaviour in coming here for nothing more than a piqued interest in a criminal matter. “You wish for my assistance?”

  “Yes, I...”

  “... I fear I cannot help you,” he said stiffly. His sister loved him and he would devote himself to her family instead of longing for a lady who had made clear more than once that she did not care for him. “I have more important concerns that need attending to.”

  “Of course.” She dropped her gaze to her gloved hands and, despite everything, he immediately wished he had not spoken so curtly. She continued, “I apologise. It was wrong of me to speak to you over something like this.”

  She got to her feet and he did the same. “Good day, Mr MacPherson. I am truly sorry that...” Their eyes met once more and hers were agitated, full of turmoil he wanted to understand. “I apologise.”

  She hurried from the room, her maid behind her, before he could decide what to say to her and he was once more left alone.

  Chapter Three

  HOW STUPID she had been to turn to Ewan after the way she had left things between them. She should have expected no other response when, after such a long absence, she spoke only of a crime. There was so much she had wanted to express of a far more personal nature but, with Ewan’s butler and Lucy in the room with them, she had not been able to do so and now she had hurt him all over again. She might never have another chance to tell him how wrong she had been and how much she had missed him.

  “What should we do, Miss?” Lucy asked, recalling Ishbel to the present and the fact that she was standing on a doorstep in the rain. She had made a promise to Lucy and she would keep it even if it meant working alone. She already suffered the censure of high society; she could hardly make her social standing much worse.

  “Do you think your friend’s parents would be willing to talk to me about Morag or, after such a recent loss, is it too soon?”

  Lucy’s worried frown vanished and she gave a smile. “I’m sure it’ll bring them relief to know that you’re looking into what happened.”

  Ishbel instructed the coach driver to take them to the address Lucy gave and forced herself to concentrate on the murder and put thoughts of Ewan to one side for now.

  The street where Lucy and Morag grew up had the look of one of the poorer parts of the city with cobbled grey pavements filled with refuse and a long line of thin houses joined together that rose high above them as if trying to blot out all sunlight. The area could not be more different from the one where Lord and Lady Huntly’s residence resided. There were no trees or carriages other than their own nor finely dressed people strolling about at a leisurely pace. Instead, grubby children played in the road, the stench of horse manure and household refuse filled the air and underfed people hurried along, glancing towards Ishbel – a wealthy outsider – with curiosity or nervousness.

  Lucy led the way to a house that was identical to its drab neighbours and rang the doorbell. A mousy-haired woman answered it and stared at Lucy, then embraced her, tears in the woman’s eyes as she drew back. “I’m glad to see you, lassie. It’s as if the last few years never happened to have you here again and I wish to God that they hadna.”

  “I’m really sorry about Morag, Mrs Duncan. I woulda done anything to stop harm coming to her if I’d known.”

  Mrs Duncan patted Lucy’s cheek. “I know, lassie.”

  Lucy gestured to Ishbel. “This is Miss Campbell, the lady Ma told you about. She wants to help discover who killed Morag.”

  Mrs Duncan made a deep curtsy to Ishbel. “Bless you, Miss. No one else cares about my girl so I prayed you’d be willing to find the truth for us.”

  “I will, Mrs Duncan.”

  “Please come into the parlour.”

  She took them through a damp-smelling corridor to a cold dark room with an unlit fire and, after asking Ishbel and Lucy to sit down in the wooden unadorned chairs, she lit a candle which she placed on the table between their chairs. At once a soft glow made the shadows around them come to life, revealing a dining table on the far side of the room on which lay Morag’s dead body, with glinting copper coins over her closed eyes, a superstition that was meant to keep her spirit from wandering. The coins made it look as if her eyes were moving in her grey face. It was usual for a corpse to be laid out in such a way and Ishbel was used to the sight of dead bodies from her medical studies, although she was acutely aware that this was someone dear to the living people in the room.

  Lucy went pale at the sight of her dead friend and Ishbel took her hand and squeezed it, before turnin
g to concentrate on their hostess. The woman was thin to the point of looking emaciated, skin pulled tight over protruding cheekbones and jaw, and the black mourning dress hung loosely on her.

  “Mrs Duncan,” Ishbel said, “the last thing I want is to distress you but do you think you could tell me what you know of Morag’s death?”

  “Of course, Miss. A member of the Town Guard came to the door yesterday and told me Morag had been found dead in an alley in Miller Street, to the west of the city. The man said it was probably some cutthroat wanting to rob her but Morag never had any money and she had no reason to be there.”

  “Was it near her job? Lucy mentioned that she worked in a clothing factory.”

  Mrs Duncan swallowed and looked away in an uncomfortable manner. “No. She stayed at the factory for a couple of years but someone accused her of stealing and she was fired. She had a few different jobs after that but she didna have anything lately.”

  There was something ominous in Mrs Duncan’s reaction to the question and Ishbel began to fear that Morag might have been involved in something illegal. “Was she still living with family friends at that time?”

  “No, she wasna.” Mrs Duncan hesitated and rubbed at a fraying patch on the chair, the tears in her eyes overflowing and running down her cheeks. “She had a room somewhere. She didna tell me where it was.”

  Lucy comforted the woman and Ishbel did not ask any more questions, not wanting to make Mrs Duncan more upset. It was clear that Morag had had secrets, perhaps dangerous ones, and Ishbel had the disturbing sensation of once again beginning an investigation the answers to which might bring misery instead of relief to the family involved.

  Chapter Four

  “MACCUAIG, WOULD you have my carriage readied for immediate departure?” Ewan said as he left the dining room and headed for the stairs.

  “Yes, sir.”