She squared her shoulders and turned from the window.
For the first time, she did believe.
***
Gavin studied Matt Kerr in the witness’s chair, wishing someone else had been appointed to prosecute this case.
Matt had testified in McGil’s case, calmly relating how Lyulf was murdered. He’d come across as believable. Now with shoulders slumped, the lad shook visibly, not that Gavin could blame him. Elspeth’s testimony had condemned him. Gavin wanted to throw Matt a lifeline, if he’d only take it.
He took the tartan that had strangled Nye and waved it in front of Matt. “Tell us when you first saw this plaid.”
Matt shook his head. “I kenna remember.”
“Let me refresh your memory. When you were arrested, you said that you got it from Lady Vanora Gilmour.”
Murmurings broke out in the spectators’ area. Sir Angus banged his gavel. “Quiet.” When silence fell over the room, he directed a stern glance to Matt. “Answer the question, Master Kerr.”
Matt’s gaze shifted right and left, and Gavin was afraid he’d faint. “I lied. I dinna get it from Lady Vanora. I know I speak before God now, I kenna lie.”
“That’s right. You can’t lie.” Gavin waited until the young man made eye contact. “So, I’ll ask you again, when did you first see this plaid? Was it the day Nye was killed?”
“Aye,” Matt whispered.
“Speak up.”
Matt raised his voice. “Aye.”
“Lady Vanora didn’t give this tartan to you. Who did she give it to?”
Gavin watched as Matt struggled, swallowing a couple of times. “Remember you’re testifying before God, Who’ll hold you accountable at the Great Judgment.”
“She gave it to Tor.” Tears spilled down the lad’s face.
Gavin felt sorry for Matt, but now that the truth was coming forth, he had to press on. “Your brother?”
“Aye.” His voice cracked on the word.
“Where did this happen?”
“At our house…ootside. Lady Vanora wouldna come in.”
Remembering the stench of the hovel, Gavin could well understand why. “Tor went out to meet her. Where were you?”
“I watched from the window. I wished I hadna.”
“What did they say?” Gavin flung the question like a challenge.
“I couldna hear what they said.”
“How long did they speak?”
Matt sent Gavin an agonized look. “Not long, a minute or two.”
Gavin considered that. “Did Tor come back inside?”
“Nay, he helped Lady Vanora on her horse. She left and he walked toward the forest.”
“He had the plaid?”
Matt sunk lower in the chair. “Aye.”
“Speak up so we can all hear you, Matt.”
Matt squirmed, then cleared his throat. “Aye. If I had known, I’d stopped him.”
Gavin sat, signaling the end of his questioning. Sir Morgan stood. “I should wish to know what Lord Carmichael’s reasoning is behind this interrogation.”
Sir Angus motioned for Gavin, Sir Morgan, and the other officers of the court to come before his bench. They stared at each other in tight-lipped silence. “Gavin, give us your reasoning. Lady Vanora isn’t on trial, yet it’s clear that’s where you’re going.”
“Tor Kerr isn’t on trial either, but I believe he’s the one who killed Nye at Lady Vanora’s bidding.” Gavin waited until the men’s mutterings ceased and continued. “No one with any rational thought can come to the conclusion that Matt Kerr murdered Nye, who was a hearty man. On the other hand, Tor was larger and stronger. We have to consider these things. After all, a young man’s life is at stake.”
“Aye,” Sir Morgan said, “but you have no evidence of Lady Vanora’s involvement except for Matt Kerr, who’s trying to save his own neck.”
Their stares bore into Gavin, waiting for his rebuttal. “Might we call Lady Elspeth back to testify?”
“No, I think not.” Sir Angus’s blue eyes turned hard. Elspeth was his daughter, after all. Nor could Gavin dismiss the fact that Vanora was Sir Angus’s granddaughter. He’d have to bow out of the proceedings if Vanora was charged.
“We couldn’t guarantee the lady’s safety,” Sir Angus said. “You saw how chaos broke out from her earlier testimony.”
The others nodded. “You tried to get McGil to admit to being influenced by Lady Vanora, and he refused.”
It was true, McGil had said not a word during his trial. Gavin decided to make himself clear. “I believe Lady Vanora wished to be rid of Lyulf, but it wasn’t enough for her to have him killed outright. She wanted McGil to do it, knowing that would incite the passions of the clan.”
He paused to look at each man, hoping to find some understanding. “Go on,” Sir Angus urged.
“She took the strip of plaid to implicate Lyulf and got Tor to use it to strangle Nye. Then she went to McGil and convinced him Lyulf was guilty, planning to send Lyulf into the woods so McGil could do the deed. I admit I’m basing that on what Matt Kerr told me when he was arrested.”
“But he admitted he lied then. How can we believe him now?” Sir Morgan asked.
Gavin’s head was beginning to throb, and he rubbed his forehead. “Half-truths are always harder to prove or disprove.” He turned to Sir Angus. “If you will indulge me a bit longer, I’d like to call on Mrs. Kilgarney and Dr. Paul to testify about a separate matter.”
“That’s out of line.” Sir Morgan grumbled.
“But it might help strengthen Matt Kerr’s testimony regarding Lady Vanora.”
“Do you gentlemen agree?” Sir Angus sent the question to the other men.
“I can’t see the reasoning.” Sir Morgan blew out a puff of air that ruffled his powered wig. “But we want to get at the truth. Let’s hear it.”
“I had hoped to finish today, and we’ve not yet heard Matt Kerr’s defense, although you’ve done a good job of it.” Sir Angus threw an accusatory glance Gavin’s way as he hit his gavel to reconvene.
Mrs. Kilgarney testified about the lamb stew being spoiled and causing illness within the Frasier household.
The questioning glances of the spectators told Gavin they didn’t understand what this testimony had to do with Nye’s or Lyulf’s murders. Mrs. Kilgarney probably didn’t either, though she conducted herself with more decorum than he expected. She’d obviously rehearsed her answers.
Dr. Paul took the witness chair and explained the condition of Mrs. Frasier and the children who’d succumbed to their illnesses.
Gavin paused a long moment to gather his thoughts, knowing he was about to cause tempers to flare. “Doctor, do you think these deaths were caused by spoiled food?”
The doctor shifted in the chair. “No, it shouldn’t have caused death.”
“Might the deaths have been caused by poison?”
Havoc broke out in the back of the room. After order had been restored, the doctor spoke. “I can’t know for certain, but the death of Mrs. Frasier and the two children could have been caused by poison.”
Sir Angus’s gavel had no effect on the howls of dissension. “Ye ken what he’s trying to do?” One of the Gilmour clan shouted. “He’s trying to lay the blame on Lady Vanora, and the poor lassie isn’t even here to defend herself.”
Gavin expelled a long sigh of despair. Whatever good will had been earned during the cheilh was gone. Vanora was their Joan of Arc. They’d never believe a word against her.
When the crowd started to press forward, guards and turnkeys with raised swords and muskets pressed in on them, forcing them outside.
“Send them all home,” Sir Angus ordered, and the doors were closed and barred.
Mrs. Kilgarney stood. “Wait, I kenna let ye do this. There was no poison.” She turned to the jurors, though she already had their attention. “I ate the stew myself, and except for a bit of queasiness, felt nothing. I’m alive. It couldna been the stew. More likely that poor
family was cursed.”
It would do no good for Gavin to point out that Mrs. Kilgarney was out of order. Even if she weren’t under oath, she’d have been believed.
Chapter 21
Halberd stood beside Alana’s chair at the dining table awaiting instructions. “Thank you, Halberd, that will be all for tonight,” she said. He bowed primly and left her with Gavin at the head with her on one side and Rory on the other.
After Gavin blessed the food, she broke her bread. “I’m glad they found Matt Kerr not guilty.”
“But why did they release him?” Rory blew on his mug of chicken and lentil soup. “He was in it with his brothers.”
“We hope Matt will lead us to his brothers,” Gavin said. “You and I are riding out tomorrow with the rest.”
Alana’s heart sank. “Why must you go?”
Both men looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I must lead my men, lass.”
“You speak as if it’s war.” Maybe she was being selfish, but she didn’t want her husband endangered, nor her brother-in-law.
Rory gave a mirthless, sardonic snort. “It could well be war. The crofters are gathering what arms they can.”
His ominous words kept her silent as she attempted to take a bite of her bread, then placed it on her plate. What little appetite she had was gone. “Why? Because you dared to speak out against Vanora.” That was her fault. She’d urged, nay, provoked Gavin to charge Vanora with murder.
A bitter knot formed in her throat as she watched Gavin’s scowl. “How could they discount Mrs. Fraser’s death? Those innocent children? Do they still blame me?”
“When we bring the Kerr brothers in, we’ll bargain with Tor.” Gavin’s voice had dropped to a conspiratorial tone, though only the three of them were present. “He should be willing to tell the truth in exchange for his life.”
What good would that do her if Gavin was killed? A wave of nausea swept through her. What good would it do their child? Perhaps if she told him she carried his child he might change his mind about going out to pursue the Kerrs. The look of determination in his eyes told her he would go, regardless. “When will you be going?”
“At sunrise in the morning.”
“I suppose I should visit Aunt Elspeth.” She sought Gavin’s approval from under her lashes.
An expression she couldn’t fathom flittered across his face. “I’d prefer you not go out just yet, not until the murmuring has died down.”
She dropped her gaze. The murmuring wouldn’t die down. She and Gavin would have to leave Scotland to face an unknown world. Vanora would win.
With a slurp, Rory finished his soup and set the mug down. “We shouldn’t be gone but a few days.”
Gavin smiled. “Spend extra time with Father. I fear the trials upset him more than he’s let on.”
Aye, they’d upset her too.
More to calm her own nerves than for Barthy’s sake, she spent much of the next several days reading the Bible to him or listening to stories of former days. She managed to keep her fears at bay while sitting with Barthy, but couldn’t help feeling the old chieftain wasn’t fooled. He deftly skirted around talk of the clan to protect her from further distress.
But in her lonely bed at night, doubts came pressing in to disturb her sleep. What trouble was Vanora scheming at this verra moment with Miriam?
Miriam. Her mother? Alana couldna accept that, though she feared Mrs. Kilgarney hadna lied about the circumstances surrounding her birth.
Yet the woman had lied about the poisonous stew on the witness stand. Mayhap she lied about Miriam’s babe being given to Hester. Alana pulled that hope around her like a warm blanket.
It couldna keep the hounds of worry at bay. Whether Miriam was Alana’s mother or not, she could help Vanora stir up trouble in London.
Gavin sneered at the idea Vanora could convince the king the Carmichael clan was raising a rebellion. But Gavin hadna heard Vanora boasting to her crofters that she would do exactly that to wrest control from Lyulf. She would come like a Joan of Arc with the English soldiers to rescue her people.
Such bombastic bluster seemed ridiculous, except that Lyulf was now dead. And Nye. And Mrs. Frasier and her children.
She prayed for Gavin’s safe return home until sleep claimed her.
***
A knocking sound penetrated through Alana’s slumber laden mind. She opened her eyes to the darkness and turned to where Gavin should be. He was out there somewhere hunting a murderous band of highwaymen. Someone pounded the door again.
She shook off sleep and fumbled around for her robe. The knocking grew sharper. More urgent. Without waiting to light a taper, she stumbled to the door.
Halberd stood there. She took in his tearful expression and thin, pursed lips. Fear shot through her. Had something happened to Gavin?
“His lordship has taken a turn for the worse, m’lady.” The normally stoic servant’s gravelly voice frightened her more than the words.
“I’ll get dressed and come down right away.”
Breaking decorum, he caught her arm. “Nay, there be no time.”
That could only mean one thing.
Barthy was dying.
Numbed, she pulled her robe closer and followed Halberd down the hall and stairs.
How could this be? Barthram had been improving. With the fresh air and better food, he’d grown stronger, and she’d actually seen some color in his cheeks. Dear God, why now when Gavin is away?
Gavin. How could he withstand this grief? She knew he depended on his father for guidance as well as comfort. What would Gavin do without his compass? What would she do without Barthy to give her confidence?
At the door to the Blue Salon, Halberd turned to face her. “Dr. Paul is in there. He sent two footmen out to notify Lord Gavin and Rory, though he doubts they’ll get here in time.”
She nodded as he opened the door for her. The room was well lit, but she noticed a different ambiance, an air of dread, though quiet and peaceful at the same time. Dr. Paul stood beside Barthy, holding his wrist.
Lord Barthram lay still against the pillows. There was no struggle for breath, and Alana feared he was already gone. Then she saw his chest rise and fall ever so gently, along with a whispering sound from his throat.
“He’s unconscious, m’lady, and in no pain. I’ll leave you to sit with him for a bit.” The doctor lay Lord Barthram’s hand down and left her before she could even think of anything to say.
She wanted to scream after the doctor, tell him to come back and do something. Surely something could be done. God wouldn’t leave her to face this alone.
Halberd sat in a chair in the corner of the room, with head in hands, and Alana took her customary place beside the chaise where the old chieftain lay. The intensity of her emotions held her in its grip. She’d never seen anyone die, nor anyone seriously ill. Certainly no one she loved as much as Barthy.
She took his cold, limp hand, and swallowed the constriction in her throat. “I wish there was something I could do, Barthy.” She’d never told him all that he meant to her.
He responded with a surprisingly strong squeeze of her hand. He could hear. Tears welled in her eyes at that discovery.
It wasn’t too late. She could tell him. “I want to thank you for welcoming me to Stonecrest when I knew no one else would. For all the wisdom you’ve given me in our talks. For just—” She struggled to put her emotions into words. “For being a father to me.”
Another squeeze let her know he understood. “Thank you, Barthy, for showing me the ways of God, even when I didn’t know that’s what you were doing. I came to feel His presence slowly, without even realizing it. When I came here I was afraid that everyone would hate me, even Gavin. But Gavin only showed me love, and now all my doubt is gone. I love your son, Barthy. You may rest easy in that. We love each other, and we’re to have a child—your grandchild.
“We’ll tell that child and the others that may follow, about their grandfather. You will be
an example forever, but you knew that, didn’t you?”
His fingers pressed her palm. “Look down on us kindly, Barthy, because we may make mistakes, Gavin and I, but we’ll always love each other and our children and our people.” She swiped the tears from her face with the back of her free hand. “Doona have a care about Rory. We’ll see him settled, and we’ll make certain the servants are taken care of. The crofters—we’ll work with the crofters to make Clan Carmichael endure…until…until eternity, if it be the Lord’s will.”
She paused, trying to think of anything else Gavin would wish her to mention. “We love you, Barthy.” Tears clouded her eyes again, and she bowed her head, breaking into a prayer of thanksgiving. “Thank you, Heavenly Father, for this time we’ve had together…until we greet each other again, and there will be no more partings.”
Silence fell and she could hear nothing except Halberd’s soft sobbing from the back of the room. She lost all sense of the passage of time, but finally realized minutes had passed since she felt the pressure of Barthy’s fingers in her hand. Raising her head, she confirmed Lord Barthram had slipped into eternity.
She rose and with a glance, caught Halberd’s attention. He came to stand beside her. “I’ve been with his lordship over fifty years. He took me in while I was still a lad with nowhere to go and no one else would have me. He was a good man, m’lady, always taking the servants and crofters into consideration.” Halberd sniffed. “At least he’s at peace. It fair tore me heart how he suffered.”
She patted the old butler’s arm. At this moment, they were united, servant and mistress, in grief. “Well I know, Halberd. He told me just yesterday that he didn’t count the suffering a burden but since his body was worn out, he thought of the suffering as the last thing he could offer to his Lord.”
Halberd nodded. “He was a man of God, to be sure.” He cleared his throat. “Do ye think we could remove the pillows, m’lady? He wanted to lie down so badly.”
“Of course.” She didn’t think the request foolish at all and helped Halberd slip the pillows from under the prostrate chieftain, laying him flat. In repose, he looked better than he ever had in the weeks she’d seen him living.
The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1) Page 21