A Dangerous Past

by Clare Jayne

  He no longer knew what to think, save that he would let nothing and no one come between himself and Ishbel.

  Ewan managed to have a civil conversation with Matilda and Picton over dinner, mainly by focusing on the subject of the children. He wanted to know all about their lives and the stilted manners at the start of the meal faded as everyone expressed genuine enthusiasm over letting the children get to know Edinburgh.

  The next morning, after passing a sleepless night thinking and re-thinking what to say, he asked to speak to Matilda privately after breakfast. They went outside to talk, Ewan hoping that the tranquil setting would allow for a calmer conversation.

  Matilda spoke first. “I very much regret the events of yesterday. You clearly have strong feelings for Miss Campbell and I do not wish there to be a rift between us.”

  “Nor do I,” he said, breathing more easily at these words.

  “Would you postpone the public announcement of your engagement to Miss Campbell to allow me a bit of time to get to know her?”

  That was hardly the direction he had hoped her words were moving in. “Matilda, I very much wish for you to become acquainted with Ishbel but can you not accept my word that she is a good person? After what happened yesterday I would hate for those who were already told of our engagement to believe I had been persuaded to distance myself from Ishbel.”

  “I am sure your friends will understand how important it is for your family to properly make the acquaintance of Miss Campbell. Otherwise I cannot in good conscience support the match.”

  “I will speak to Ishbel about what you have said,” he reluctantly told her, hating the fact that he could not immediately reassure Ishbel that he had changed his sister’s mind. “The final decision on how to progress will be hers.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ISHBEL KNEW as soon as she saw Ewan, the morning after his sister’s arrival, that Lady Picton’s opinion of Ishbel remained the same.

  He told her what Matilda had said. “I wish I knew a way to instantly show her all your wonderful qualities.”

  Ishbel suspected that Lady Picton hoped that a postponement of the engagement would give her a chance to end the relationship. Seen from Lady Picton’s point of view, Ishbel could not even blame her for feeling Ishbel was unworthy of Ewan. Ishbel was aware of the irregular nature of her life when compared to that of some lady of spotless reputation that Ewan might instead marry. She knew too that had she only resolved her doubts about marriage sooner, she and Ewan might already be publically engaged by now, when it would be too late for Lady Picton to stop it without causing more scandal. Her current unhappiness was, therefore, partly of her own doing. As much as she could not bear the thought of a life without Ewan, she did not wish to ruin his relationship with his family. “Perhaps it would be better to break off our engagement so that your sister’s family can take the time to see if they can accept it.”

  Ewan stepped forward and took her hands in his, then leaned down and bestowed a kiss on the back of one hand. The tender action and sensations it provoked in Ishbel were almost enough to drive all other thoughts from her head. He straightened and said, “There is nothing that you need to prove to anyone and Matilda’s reaction was offensive and deplorable. It has no effect on my desire to spend my future with you. Nothing would make me happier than for you to set a date for our marriage right now.”

  His certainty quelled her fears. “I would rather give Lady Picton what she wants and try to win her goodwill.”

  “Thank you. That is generous after what you have suffered.” Her squeezed her hands, his feelings for her written across his features and healing her bruised heart. “Perhaps I should arrange for a small dinner party where you can get to know my sister and her family in a relaxed setting?”

  Ishbel could imagine nothing relaxed about such an event and, at the back of her mind, there was a fear that nothing she ever did would change Lady Picton’s view of her, but she would try as hard as she could just the same. “Yes, that is a good idea.”

  They spoke for a little longer, Ewan’s attitude showing that he did indeed wish for a life with her. They left the library and Ishbel’s calm vanished at the sight of Harriette standing ready to pounce.

  “I trust you have given your sister to understand that she has no right to ill-judge a member of my family and that the betrothal will go ahead with no further impediment,” Harriette said in a glacial tone.

  Ishbel said, “We remain engaged but will make no announcement of the fact until I have had more time to speak to Matilda.”

  Harriette’s biting gaze shifted from Ishbel to Ewan. “How long exactly do you expect my cousin to dance attendance on your sister before you are willing to honour your marriage promise?”

  “Harriette, stop!” Ishbel begged. “Ewan left the choice to me and I have no wish to cause unnecessary trouble between him and his family. Has Lady Picton behaved so unreasonably? If I had become engaged to a gentleman with a bad reputation would you have hesitated in speaking against it?”

  She saw Harriette’s ire fade a little at the truth of this argument.

  “Lady Huntly,” Ewan said, “I wish to appease my sister but I promise you that my engagement and subsequent marriage to Ishbel will go ahead soon. That matters more to me than anything else.”

  “Very well,” Harriette said. “Perhaps I should speak directly to your sister...”

  “... No!” Ishbel and Ewan spoke at the same time and Harriette made the put out expression of a cat that has had a mouse removed from its claws.

  “As you wish.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “WILL YOU let me get you a drink?” Jed asked. He had ended his official work for the day so he no longer wore the blue apron that identified him as a caddy and Betsy Dale slowly looked him over and gave him a flirtatious smile, clearly thinking he was just looking to spend some money on a pretty lass. In other circumstances the dimpled grin might have turned his head, but he had other concerns right now.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll have a brandy.”

  He bought the drinks and they found a free table to sit either side of, while others played dice and cards or just talked and got drunk around them. Betsy settled the panelled skirts of her brightly coloured dress so that they wouldn’t crease, her cheeks and lips reddened with rouge that enhanced her youthful features.

  “I hear you knew the lassie who was murdered in an alleyway not far away.” He knew Mr MacPherson and Miss Campbell had already spoken to her about her friend, but he hoped she might speak more freely to him.

  Betsy pursed her lips. “Oh, is that what you’re interested in?” she asked flatly.

  “I’m helping to try and solve her death and there’ve been threats made against me and others because of it. If you liked Morag Duncan, dinna you want her killer caught?”

  “Of course I do,” she said, with a flash of indignation at the idea that she might feel otherwise.

  “Then tell me what she was up to?”

  “What are you talking about?” She took a gulp of her drink as if she was not planning on hanging about.

  “I know she was selling stolen goods but she must have been doing more than that to have so much money thrown about to keep the matter quiet.”

  “She wasna,” Betsy said, brow furrowing. “She was reluctant to do that much but George insisted that there was no harm in it. None of us thought there’d be any danger. Why should there be?”

  “Did you know that she had a guinea coin on her when she was killed?”

  “Aye, one of the newssheets mentioned it. She coulda sold something valuable, I s’pose.”

  “You canna think where else she might have got the money?”

  “No.” Betsy’s drink sat forgotten on the table in front of her now as she fixed all her attention on him, prettier now she had stopped flirting. “I’ve thought about it a lot, because if it happened to her it coulda happened to any of us and I dinna want to end up dead too. All she did was may
be the occasional bit of pick-pocketing and selling a few things to pawnbrokers and jewellers. It was nothing. No one would kill her for that.”

  She was clearly telling him all she knew and Jed reluctantly found himself agreeing with this opinion. But if Morag was not murdered over the crimes she had committed, what could she have done?

  * * *

  Ewan had hoped that he and Ishbel could once again begin to look forward to a bright future, that the worst problems had at least already come to light. That was until he saw the gaudily dressed visitor in his hallway.

  “How dare you come and accuse my brother of murder,” Nan Smith said in a loud, angry tone as soon as she saw him, before MacCuaig, the butler, could even officially announce her presence.

  “I will eject this person from the house,” MacCuaig responded and nodded for a footman to come forward and take one of Nan’s arms.

  “Get off me,” she complained, trying to pull away.

  This was, of course, when Picton came downstairs to find out what was going on.

  “I can handle this situation,” Ewan told him. “Please return to your wife.”

  MacCuaig had opened the front door and the footman had got Nan halfway towards it but she was determined to have her say. “George didna kill Morag and if you tell the Town Guards otherwise...”

  “... We know he is innocent,” Ewan said and told the footman to let go of her since having her dragged outside would only make the situation look even worse. He could see in the periphery of his vision that Picton had not moved.

  “You do?” Nan’s voice lost its shrill quality. “Well, we cared about Morag so you had no right to say such things.”

  “I apologise for upsetting you both.”

  “All right then, because if I knew who’d killed her I’d tell the Town Guard or do them in myself.” On this note, Nan looked with some uneasiness at all the people who were watching her and left the house of her own volition.

  MacCuaig closed the door behind her and he and the footman vanished, leaving Ewan with Picton.

  “What the devil was that about?” Picton demanded, making the last few steps down into the hall. “Is this the result of these odd crime enquiries of yours?”

  Ewan had never wanted so much to tell a lie. “Yes.”

  “And is your house frequently invaded by such unwanted riff-raff?”

  “It has never happened before,” Ewan said, “and I will endeavour to ensure that it never occurs again.”

  “That is not good enough,” Picton said. “This business has to stop, MacPherson. You will ruin your own good name and ours as well if you continue in this way.”

  Ewan could have cursed the ill-timing of Nan’s appearance. She could scarcely have caused more trouble for him since Picton was the one who had not taken sides against him until now. “It was one unwanted conversation conducted in the privacy of my home. There will be no negative outcome caused to anyone by the situation.”

  “If you believe that, you are a fool,” Picton said. “I will be removing my family from this house as soon as I possibly can.”

  With these words, he left, presumably to tell Matilda what had just occurred, which in turn would certainly increase her dislike of his criminal enquiries and Ishbel’s part in them. Ewan did not dare believe that his standing with his family could not possibly sink any lower, just in case it somehow did.

  Chapter Thirty

  TO APPEASE Harriette and also because Ishbel truly needed help, she asked Harriette’s advice the next morning over breakfast on how to make a good impression on Lord and Lady Picton at the dinner party.

  “You must not doubt yourself again now,” Harriette told her as she buttered a slice of bread. “Any awkwardness you have ever shown in society has been due to a lack of confidence. Otherwise you have behaved exactly as I would wish you to with the ton and you know that my standards are high.”

  Ishbel was touched and reassured by these words. Before she could respond, the butler held a tray out to her and she took the letter it contained and opened it. It took a moment before she could fix her mind on the murder enquiry and make sense of what she was reading. The implication changed everything. “He is alive,” she said. “I must tell Ewan at once.”

  She stood up and Harriette said, “Is this something to do with the latest murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you can hardly show up at Mr MacPherson’s house without a chaperone or his sister will never accept you. Is he not due to call at some point today in any case?”

  “He is,” Ishbel said.

  “Then you must exercise patience.” With a noticeable lack of the virtue she had prescribed, Harriette gestured to the chair Ishbel had just vacated. “Sit down and finish your meal.”

  Ishbel reluctantly did so, the new information about the enquiry almost enough to put more personal worries from her mind.

  When Ewan arrived at the house, she led him into the library and asked first about the intended meeting between her and Lady Picton. “Have you and your sister decided upon a date for the dinner party?”

  “Yes, although there was an unforeseen snag yesterday. Nan Smith appeared at my home shouting about the injustice in our accusing her brother of Morag’s murder. As a result, Picton is now set against our criminal enquiries.”

  “Perhaps I should finish this one alone then.”

  “Certainly not,” he said at once. “I have as little intention of letting Picton control my life as I do of letting Matilda influence who I marry.”

  “If only Nan Smith had come here instead of to your home,” Ishbel said. It was a blow to realise that Lord Picton was now far more likely to adopt his wife’s view against Ishbel and Ewan’s marriage.

  Ewan smiled at her words. “Everything will resolve itself in time.”

  Ishbel wished she could be sure of that. “Do you wish to hear some interesting news about our current enquiry?”

  “Certainly. What have you learnt?”

  “I received a letter today in response to my enquiry for the information about Mrs Duncan’s first husband. There was only one Marriage Certificate.”

  “I do not follow.”

  “Her marriage to Mr Duncan is the only one she has ever entered into, which means that Morag was illegitimate and her father might well still be alive.”

  “Then we must speak to Mrs Duncan.”

  “I have been considering that and I still believe we should not do so,” Ishbel said. “Mr Duncan might not even be aware of this fact and it could rip apart their marriage. Besides, while I can see that it would cause embarrassment to Morag’s father if she had found him, particularly if his life has the appearance of respectability, I cannot believe that her own father would kill her. We must follow this up but it is possible that it has nothing to do with her death, in which case it would be kinder not to reveal it to Mr and Mrs Duncan.”

  “But how can we learn any more without speaking to Mrs Duncan?”

  “It is possible that the name of her father is on Morag’s Birth Certificate.”

  “If the man refused to marry Mrs Duncan or was already married, he would be unlikely to let her put his name on a public document. What if you write another letter asking for this information and, if it has not been supplied, we will try to have a private conversation with Mrs Duncan?”

  This idea resolved her concerns. “I will write at once.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “WHAT MAN do we know who took an interest in Morag’s life?” Ishbel asked the next day, having given the subject some thought.

  “George Smith,” he said promptly from his chair in the library.

  “I was meaning someone older who could be her father.”

  Ewan shook his head. “I can think of no one.”

  “What if part of the reason Morag was sent to live in another man’s house when she was eleven was so her real father could get to know her without anyone suspecting the relationship?” Ishbel noticed an ink stain on the edge of one
of her fingers and ineffectively tried to rub it clean.

  “The family friends. Yes, that would make sense. They did offer her a home even after she committed theft, which was unusually generous.”

  Ishbel said, “I asked Lucy about it this morning and she only knows the general area where they lived, not the address. If we wish to visit them, we can either find out where they are from Mrs Duncan or from Lottie Miller, who we know was in touch with Morag then.”

  “If your theory is right, Mrs Duncan might give something away if we ask her.” Seeing Ishbel’s reaction, he added, “We need not mention the subject of her father but perhaps, if she is alone, she will mention him herself.”

  Ishbel agreed to this and they returned to the street where Morag, Lucy and Lottie had all grown up. She pictured them together, three children, whose lives would soon head in different directions – Lottie getting married, Lucy gaining a well-respected job as lady’s maid and Morag, whose dishonest life somehow brought about her death.

  Mrs Duncan’s face paled when she opened the door to them but there was also a glint of hope in her eyes as she invited them into the parlour. Ishbel’s gaze moved unintentionally to the long dining table beyond the unlit fireplace and, while she would have been buried a few days ago, in her mind’s eye she could still see Morag’s body laid out neatly there. Ishbel thought she had had the same mousy blonde hair as her mother but could not remember clearly and for some reason that bothered her.