by Clare Jayne
“I will speak to Jed and ask him to make enquiries about it.”
She suspected that Mr Cassell had already done this, as by now he knew as much as they did about what facts were useful in such matters. If no one had already come forward with such information, perhaps they were too afraid to do so.
After Mr MacPherson left, Ishbel went looking for Lucy, who was in the kitchen mending the hem of one of Ishbel’s dresses.
“How can I help, Miss?” Lucy asked when Ishbel said that she needed information for their enquiry.
“Would you be able to find out Mrs Duncan’s Christian name and maiden name for me? I do not wish to trouble her directly for it unless I have to.”
“I’ve heard a few people use her first name – it’s Beth. And my family attended the wedding of Mrs Duncan’s sister. Before she was wed, she was Miss Emily Grey, so Grey would have been Mrs Duncan’s maiden name too.”
“That is perfect. Thank you.” Ishbel went on to let her know that their suspicion of George Smith had got nowhere but that they were still working on the matter and Lucy seemed happy with this.
Ishbel then walked from the servants’ wing up to the main house and then up the larger staircase to her chamber. She sat at her desk and, since she did not know which church Mrs Duncan had been married in, she wrote a letter to all the churches in Edinburgh asking for information from Elizabeth Grey’s Marriage Certificate.
She then opened her reticule, got out the parchment contained in it and re-read the sonnet Ewan had written for her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
MATILDA AND her family were due to arrive in Edinburgh today, so Ewan invited a few of his acquaintances to his house for an informal tea party. In truth, it was an excuse created for the purpose of introducing Ishbel to his family.
He spent the morning supervising the household arrangements for his family’s arrival, managing to thoroughly annoy his butler, MacCuaig, who had had the work entirely under control. Ewan was excited to see his family but also extremely aware that he did not live the kind of life they would wish him to. He had always been able to talk easily to his sister, though, and would need to rely on her to handle her husband, whose old-fashioned opinions Ewan clearly recalled.
Ishbel was the first person to arrive at his home, escorted by Lord and Lady Huntly. Ewan had realised he could not invite Ishbel without her family, but he was not confident that Lady Huntly’s forthright views would be appreciated by Picton or even Matilda. His plan was that, after making the introductions between them all, he would spend the next hour keeping them as far away from each other as possible.
Chiverton then arrived with his sister, Miss Chiverton, his older brother, Henry, and his brother’s fiancée, Miss Anne Castlebrook. McDonald’s carriage drew up to the house just behind theirs. Everyone had dressed in smart clothes for the occasion, the men in bright colours, their neck-cloths tied in elegantly designed knots, while Lady Huntly, the only married woman present, wore an elaborate sky-blue gown with a velvet mantelet – a short cape – and feathered hat. The unmarried ladies wore pale dresses and Ishbel was particularly lovely in a gown that had small pink embroidered flowers on it, her hair a mass of copper curls beneath her shepherdess hat and her delicate features slightly flushed. Ewan could hardly bear to look away from her.
A footman handed out drinks as the guests talked to each other and, even half distracted by what lay ahead, Ewan could not help but notice which people conversed easily to each other, who disliked whom and who was nervous. While several people avoided getting into conversation with Lady Huntly, Miss Castlebrook listened to her every word with awe and admiration.
While the others were occupied, Ewan and Ishbel wandered out of hearing distance and Ishbel said quietly, “I do hope your sister will think well of me. Would you remind me what are the names of your nephew and nieces?”
“Rebecca, James and baby Anne. I am certain my family will be enchanted by you, although I wish I could introduce you to her as my fiancée,” Ewan said without thinking and was then horrified with himself for such a blunder. He had not only ruined the opportunity to make an elegant proposal but had also spoken in an unfair way about their relationship.
Ishbel took in his expression and said calmly, “Then you should do so.”
He stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
She gave a wide smile, her eyes shining. “Nothing would give me more happiness than to become your wife, Ewan.”
“Good. I... May I...”
“Yes,” she said, so he leaned forward and kissed her. It was meant to be the kind of polite kiss that was appropriate to such a situation but they rather forgot themselves. And the fact that the rest of Ewan’s guests were able to see them.
They hastily unwound their arms from each other’s person as Lady Huntly said dryly, “I trust this means that you have an announcement to make?”
Ishbel put her hand on his arm and, brimming over with happiness, Ewan said, “Miss Campbell has consented to accept my hand in marriage.”
“Finally!” Lady Huntly said but she was smiling as she spoke.
They headed back to the group at the same time as Chiverton and McDonald approached to hug Ewan and congratulate him. Miss Chiverton likewise embraced Ishbel as the men continued to slap Ewan on the back and express their pleasure.
“Mr MacPherson,” a voice said and Ewan turned to his butler who told the assembled group, “Lord Picton, Lady Picton, Miss Rebecca, Miss Anne and Master James.”
Ewan had not heard the carriage arrive, nor the front door open in all the excitement. His sister and her husband entered the room with their three young children, the baby resting in Matilda’s arms. Ewan strode across to them and said, “Welcome to my home. This is the happiest of days.”
He kissed Matilda’s forehead and exchanged a fond smile with her, then shook Picton’s hand, noting that the man’s hair had a touch of grey at the temples now. Picton had never been a dashing man but he had an air of authority and Matilda had found him good-hearted and reliable. Ewan crouched down to hug and kiss Becca and Jamie before straightening and touching the cheek of the sleepy baby. The older children had a look of Matilda in their eyes and smiles but Ewan could not yet tell who the baby would resemble.
“This is Anne, your newest niece,” Matilda told him before saying to the infant, “and this is your Uncle Ewan.”
The baby waved her tiny hands and he watched her with a smile, grateful that he would have the chance to see her grow up. Perhaps in a few years Anne might even have a baby cousin to play games with and the thought made his smile grow.
“If you are not too fatigued from the journey may I introduce my guests to you, those you have not already met? I thought you might enjoy informal refreshments with a few of my closest acquaintances and my cook made some sweetmeats for the children to enjoy.”
“That sounds lovely,” Matilda said. She had changed little in the years they had been apart, although he had grown taller while growing to manhood, making the difference in their heights more marked. She had the same wide green eyes as he did but had inherited their father’s darker hair. Although she was a mature wife and mother now of two score years and three, he could still see the girl who had played outside with him, told him stories and comforted him after their mother died.
Ewan turned to Ishbel, smiling at her and receiving a warm look in return. Although they did not have a great deal in common, he felt sure that his sister and Ishbel would like each other. “This is Miss Campbell, who has today done me the immeasurable honour of agreeing to become my wife.”
Matilda’s expression hardened as Ishbel walked forward and curtsied to her.
There was a pause where Matilda should have returned the gesture and did not, and that was the instant when Ewan began to feel uneasy. The light conversation between the other guests tailed off as all eyes turned towards the women, who were still facing each other.
Matilda finally responded to Ewan’s statement in a quiet but
firm manner: “I think not.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
JED STOOD on the crowded High Street and handed out pamphlets advertising a new shop to anyone who would take one. He was worn out, having worked half the night too, but he needed the extra money. His youngest brother was finally recovering from a long illness that his whole family had feared would kill him, but the care and treatment of a physician had cost a fortune, more than most people of his class could pay. Jed had refused to do nothing and watch him die, telling his parents and older siblings that he would be responsible for paying the fee, but it was a struggle to pay the monthly amount. Without the generosity of Miss Campbell and Mr MacPherson he never could have managed it.
He heard someone call his name over the shouting of the street sellers and clatter of horses’ hooves, and looked around, to see his friend and fellow caddy, Billy, jog over to him, a frown on his freckled face instead of the usual smile.
“I was asking about the Morag Duncan murder for you,” Billy said in an undertone, while Jed continued to give the sheets of paper to passersby. “It turns out that I wasna the only one and someone threatened to beat me up unless I left the matter alone.”
“Was it Gabe Fryer who said this?”
“No, a couple of other men. Known criminals. The violent types.”
How many people had been hired? The person in charge either had a lot of money to throw about or they knew a lot of criminals. He would guess at the latter. It made him wonder if Morag had been involved in something far bigger than he had discovered so far. No one went to this much trouble over a small-time thief.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. They didna do nothing, but someone really doesna want Morag’s murder solved.”
“Was anything at all said about who hired them? Even a hint?”
“No,” Billy said, smiling at a pretty woman in a large feathered hat as she took one of the pamphlets. He clearly wasn’t too shaken by his earlier encounter. The lady ignored him and, as she strolled off, he gave his attention back to Jed. “You need to be careful, maybe even stop working on this matter, because these thugs are dangerous. I don’t want you getting killed too.”
“I’m not backing off but I promise I’ll keep to the busy streets and not turn my back on anyone rough-looking.” It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d helped catch a criminal and he knew how to take care of himself.
“That’s probably what Morag Duncan told herself,” Billy said, his eyes shadowed with worry before he walked away.
Jed was too busy thinking over what this information revealed to give any serious thought to the additional danger.
* * *
Ishbel stayed silent, not knowing how to respond to Lady Picton’s words. Her cheeks burned at the snub as she turned back towards her family. To know that someone so close to Ewan thought so little of her was worse than anything said or implied by Edinburgh’s ton. Harriette put an arm round her shoulders, eyes flashing with fury, and Lord Huntly’s normally amiable face held a frown.
Ewan whispered something to his sister, who shook her head, expression unbending. He shot a glance at Ishbel in which she saw her own hurt and mortification reflected and then, since he could hardly send the other guests away, he was forced to introduce the other people to his family as if nothing was amiss. Chiverton and McDonald already seemed acquainted with Ewan’s sister and Ishbel remembered that they had been friends with him since childhood, so they would have known all his family. She gathered that they had also met Lord Picton, although they seemed to have little to say to him. No one had much to say in this uncomfortable atmosphere.
Ewan muttered something in the ear of Mr Chiverton, who nodded and engaged Lord Picton in conversation, drawing the rest of the group into his circle. Ewan then led his sister to one side. Before Ishbel could stop her, Harriette marched over to them. Fearful of what her cousin might say, Ishbel drew closer to unobtrusively eavesdrop, ready to step between the women and lead Harriette away if an argument broke out.
“I am Lady Huntly and Miss Campbell is my cousin,” Harriette said in the tone of one of society’s leaders, someone who could elevate or crush a person with a few well chosen words.
“I have heard of you,” Lady Picton said in a respectful voice, “and know that no stain can possibly fall on you or your husband, but your cousin’s mother is infamous...”
“That is nothing to do with Ishbel. She came to live with Lord Huntly and I when she was still a child and I trust you will find no fault with that arrangement.”
“I am not so hard-hearted that I would hold her mother’s immoral behaviour against Miss Campbell if she comported herself in a respectable manner. However, I am informed by friends that she does not.”
Ishbel could not bear to hear any more of what had been said against her so she joined Mr Chiverton’s group. Her breath was shallow, her limbs shaky and she could not bring herself to meet the eyes of the other people, horrified at the idea of what must be going through their minds at this time.
Miss Chiverton took her gloved hand. “Do you think spring is on its way, Miss Campbell? The milder weather of the last few days has been quite invigorating.”
“Yes.” She swallowed and gratefully focused on the fair-haired woman. “I hope so. It has been a harsh winter.”
Mr McDonald joined in. “We must put together a party next month for a picnic.”
“That sounds delightful.” Ishbel smiled at him but her body tensed again as Ewan, Harriette and Lady Picton re-joined the main group. Harriette’s fierce expression told its own story and Ewan looked just as angry. Lady Picton moved to stand next to her husband, body turned slightly away from her brother. The children’s governess had taken charge of the children who were enjoying the cakes and lemonade, too young to recognise that anything was wrong.
“MacPherson,” Mr McDonald said, “where do you think would be an enjoyable location for a picnic?”
Ewan gave a strained smile. “There are many pleasant areas outside the city. Perhaps somewhere with a view of the coast?”
The tea party continued in the same manner, with superficial conversation failing to hide the tension between half of those present, and at the same impossibly slow pace. By the time her family took their leave of Ewan, it felt to Ishbel as if she had experienced a lifetime of embarrassment here.
Ewan took her hand and squeezed it, positioning his body to hide what he was doing from the others present. “I will resolve this with my family,” he said to her in an undertone, “and everything will be well. I love you.”
These words almost caused her to break into tears on the spot. She looked into his eyes and let herself believe all that he had said.
After all that their relationship had survived, she needed to have faith that it was not over now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“HOW COULD you treat the woman I love in such a cruel manner?” Ewan demanded.
The guests were gone and the governess had taken the children and the baby upstairs to rest. He was left in the drawing room with Matilda and Lord Picton, she seated near the fire while her husband stood beside her chair with Ewan standing opposite them, close to the door.
“I do not appreciate you speaking to my wife in that tone,” Picton said.
“Then you can understand my anger and hurt over the way Ishbel was spoken to.” Ewan glared at them both, barely able to believe that a sister who loved him could behave in such a way.
“Ewan,” Matilda said in the gentle tone she had used when they were younger, one that was painful to hear in these circumstances, “I would be remiss in my duty as your older sibling were I to sanction a match between you and someone so lacking in all propriety.”
“Matilda, it has been a considerable time since I was a child, so it is not your place to choose my bride for me, nor to argue with my own choice. Also, since when were you so lacking in good sense that you would base your entire opinion of someone on cheap gossip?”
His sister stiffened at the rebuke and Picton intervened again. “That is going too far, MacPherson.”
Matilda looked up at her husband. “I wish to answer, Gregory.” When he put a hand on her shoulder and nodded, she turned back to Ewan. “I very much regret causing Miss Campbell any grief but everything I have heard, even from you – speaking of her as your partner in your crime solving – goes against her. Your announcement of an engagement forced me to make my feelings clear about such a thing while there is still time to put an end to this liaison.”
“Nothing could induce me to break my engagement to Ishbel.”
Matilda raised her chin. “You would ruin the good reputation of your own family by forcing such an unsavoury association upon us?”
Ewan opened his mouth to give the response to this accusation that it deserved, but Picton spoke first. “This has been a long, tiring day for everyone. I think we will be able to reach a more satisfactory outcome to such a conversation tomorrow when everyone’s emotions are less volatile.”
Matilda agreed to this with a look of such relief that Ewan felt a stab of guilt at distressing her, even though his anger and worry for Ishbel and their relationship remained strong. He realised how close he and his sister were to an estrangement when, given the chance to get to know Ishbel for herself, Matilda might be persuaded to change her opinion.
“Yes,” Ewan said, grateful for Picton’s intervention. “Perhaps that would be for the best.”
He left them alone and went for a walk to calm himself down. He wondered how Ishbel was feeling and it hurt to think that his own family had put her through such a painful ordeal. When she had agreed to marry him he had thought their lives would be transformed, that nothing would seem difficult or unpleasant ever again. They had both been happy.
Perhaps he should have foreseen this and written Matilda long letters telling her all about Ishbel’s virtues, of which there were many, but it had never occurred to him that his sister would react in such a way, as if his own feelings meant nothing compared to a handful of people decrying the match. He thought back to Matilda’s own entry into society – she had certainly shown a more perfect version of herself, sensitive to the thought of any negative pronouncements being made about her character, but she had barely been an adult at the time, so such a reaction was understandable. He had assumed that her marriage would allow her to view the world around her in a more considered manner, caring more about her family than the opinions of strangers. Perhaps that was at the heart of her fears: the idea that her husband would criticise her for Ewan’s actions. But Picton had not said a word against Ishbel. At least, not in Ewan’s hearing.