by Holly Bush
“Rightful heir . . .” Elspeth repeated.
“What do you mean?” Kirsty said. “You are making no sense. Who is this MacTavish?”
Muireall turned in her chair to face Kirsty. Aunt Murdoch reached over and took her hand, patting the back of it with her other.
“Our father was the Ninth Earl of Taviston and our mother the countess.”
“What are you talking about?” Kirsty said.
Elspeth stared at Muireall. “I remember,” she whispered. “I remember them calling her Lady Taviston. That is why, is it not?”
Muireall nodded. “Father was ‘my lord.’ Do you remember, Elspeth?”
“I do. He was always just Papa to me and to you and to James, though. Do you remember his plaid? And Mother’s gown that matched?”
“I do. He wore the plaid and his bonnet with the three feathers when they entertained, and Mama wore her dark blue dress with the plaid sash pinned on her left shoulder.”
Elspeth could feel her lip tremble. Her memories, the flashes of long ago faces and places, dear to her but forgotten or forced away. “You told me,” Elspeth said, tears welling in her eyes, “and Aunt and James too. You told me to forget it all, to never mention any of it again. But we had such a lovely, happy family.”
“We couldn’t trust a child your age to not blurt out some mention of Taviston or of your home and your parents. Kirsty was too young and Payden just a babe in my arms,” Aunt said. “It was too dangerous.”
Payden stood, his back straight, his face serious and a little pale. “What does it mean, Aunt Murdoch? What do you mean, I’m the heir?”
“You’re the Tenth Earl of Taviston, Lord Taviston. You inherited when Father died,” Muireall said and stood. “You’re the chief of the clan.”
Payden stared at Muireall, his head dipping as she dropped a curtsy, his face paler than before. He turned, hurried out of the room, and Elspeth heard the beat of his steps on the stairs. A door slammed above them. They all were all staring at the door to the parlor, as if an apparition had just appeared, or rather disappeared.
Robert stood. “I’m going to wait a bit and then knock on his door.”
“How arrogant you are, Muireall,” Kirsty hissed and jumped from her seat. “So sure of everything and everyone that you are the only one worthy to know and understand this. You, the head of the family! Elspeth and I and Payden are too stupid or ridiculous to understand? What a mess you’ve made.”
Muireall was white-faced, her mouth open, when she dropped into the seat behind her.
“She’s been shocked by it all,” James said, glancing at Kirsty. “She’ll cool down, Muireall.”
Elspeth stared at her older sister and shook her head. “It was wrong of you, Muireall, but I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same if you really think there is danger. Is this why you are so worried that someone is after us? That someone has figured out who we are? Who Father was?”
Muireall covered her face with her hands and bent over at the waist. Aunt was shushing and rubbing her back. Elspeth looked at Aunt Murdoch.
“Tell me. Tell me the whole story. What is the danger?”
“Your grandfather, the Eighth Earl of Taviston, had a son by a washer woman in the village prior to his marriage. He did not marry the washer woman, of course. The son is Cameron Plowman, as your grandfather refused to allow her to use his surname. He married your grandmother, the third daughter of the chief of the Clan McKenna, shortly after and sired your father, Rory, and your aunts, Maeve and Katherine. Maeve was James’s mother and Katherine was Mrs. McClintok’s.”
“And the danger?”
“Grandfather gave his by-blow an education far above what was expected, and Plowman went to Edinburgh and worked for a shipping company after he was done with his schooling. He took possession of that company on the owner’s death. The man had sons, but after he died, stabbed to death leaving a tavern, it was discovered that his will had been recently changed, probably under duress. All of the man’s commercial holdings, ships, warehouses, private wharves, all left to Plowman,” James said.
“And the family suspected foul play?” she asked.
“They were a wealthy family even without the business and took Plowman to court, but they abruptly dropped the case,” James said. “One of the man’s daughters was brutally assaulted. She was never right in the head after that and hanged herself from a beam in their carriage house stables.”
“Oh my God,” Elspeth said. “But how is he connected to us other than being half-sibling to our father?”
“Cameron Plowman claimed that he was the rightful heir to the earldom, that he was chief of the clan. An illegitimate heir can inherit in Scotland if the parents are eventually married,” Aunt Murdoch said. “He came back to Taviston rich and brutal with anyone who got in his way. He said he had documents that proved his mother was married to your grandfather.”
“Was there any chance he was right?” she asked.
“No. No, of course not. Right or wrong, the earl would marry a woman of his own class, prepared to be a countess. Plowman’s mother was an illiterate washer woman, and a prostitute when necessary to keep a roof over her head, although your grandfather provided well enough for them all to live on without her lifting her skirts ever again. She had six other children, two died in childbirth; one died when the man she was servicing took exception to the child’s cries and put a pillow over the infant’s face. Two sisters survived, although one had followed her mother into prostitution. Plowman was furious with her when he returned from his schooling and beat her near to death.”
“Didn’t the constable do anything? Were there no police?”
“Not that would challenge Plowman.”
“Why did Father not stay and fight? Certainly, an earl—and a wealthy one, as you’re saying—would be able to rid himself of this man,” Elspeth said.
“He tried,” Aunt Murdoch said wearily. “He tried very hard, but Plowman had an ear at the register where the marriage licenses were filed. Rory received a letter that there was evidence that a marriage to the Plowman woman did exist and was legitimate.”
“Father contacted the Court of the Lord Lyon, and the claim was rebuked there. He believed all was well. He believed it was over,” James said. “But that’s when strange things started to happen at Dunacres.”
“Strange things?” Kirsty asked.
“Yes. Strange things happened within the walls of Dunacres,” Aunt Murdoch said. “Broken dishes, staff hurt or sick, sheep and horses down. Your father knew it was Plowman but had no proof. He knew there were servants who were causing the accidents and illnesses, but he did not know which ones. So many of them had been in service to the MacTavishes for ages, but there was new staff too.”
“Then Mother fell down the steps,” Muireall said without emotion. She stared at Kirsty and then turned to Elspeth. “She lost a sister or a brother of ours that day and told me that she was certain she was pushed but did not see who had done the pushing.”
“I was away that day,” Elspeth whispered. “I was somewhere else, but I can’t remember where. When I came home, everyone told me that Mother was not feeling well and was keeping to her rooms.”
“She miscarried the afternoon she fell. She was only a few months along. It was a miracle she didn’t break her neck,” Aunt Murdoch said, her lip trembling. “It was such a terrible time.”
Elspeth couldn’t look away then. Aunt was a pillar of strength and common sense, with little tolerance for emotional outbursts of any sort. But here she was dabbing at her eyes with a lace hankie, her voice shaking and weak.
“And then they took Payden.”
“What?” Kirsty shrieked.
“Took Payden?” Elspeth whispered.
“They took him,” James said. “I was with Father when we went looking for him. We were lucky: a dairy woman out before dawn thought she saw someone run past an old shed near where the herd was grazing. I ran, following him and old Mackie, both carrying
their long guns and dirks. I wasn’t very old, only eleven or so, but Father put a knife in my hands and told me to defend myself and Payden at all costs.”
“Where was he?”
“Behind the shed. He was laying there on his side, in the tall grass. It looked like they’d dropped him as they ran when they heard Father and Mackie’s battle cry, but Payden wasn’t fussing or crying. Father put him in my arms and sent me running back to the house while he and Mackie went looking for the kidnapper. There were other servants already heading toward me, but Father had told me to not stop until Payden was in Mother’s arms. And that’s what I did. I went through them, Payden in one arm and the knife in the other hand, until I could hand Mother her son while she held up a long sword at the ready.”
“Oh, my dear Lord,” Kirsty said.
“You were just a boy,” Elspeth said.
“I was. But it didn’t matter. The family had to be protected,” James said.
“Mackie was found dead the next morning. His ale had been poisoned,” Aunt said.
Elspeth could hardly take it all in. No wonder Muireall and James and Aunt were so fearful.
“Now you know why Father left. I don’t think he ever intended it to be for more than a few months. Aunt told me he sent letters to the officials in London and Scotland by special messenger and letters to other peers and judges. I think he hoped that Plowman would be caught. That the bad actors at Dunacres would slink away if their leader was gone and that he could keep the family safe away from Scotland until that happened,” Muireall said.
“And you think the men who’ve followed us are connected?” I asked.
“I’m certain they are,” Muireall said. “Do you imagine that we’ve twice had someone randomly follow us?”
Elspeth noticed Kirsty was weeping, and she went to her and knelt in front of her. “You mustn’t cry, dearest. We have to be strong.”
She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “They killed Mother and Father, didn’t they? They killed them on the ship.”
Elspeth sat back on her haunches. It had not occurred to her until that very moment that her parents may have been murdered. It felt as if the earth beneath her feet shook, as if every foundation she had, every truth and reality that she believed, was no longer certain. Nothing was real, it seemed. She stood up slowly and turned to look at Muireall, Aunt Murdoch, and James. Muireall was the only one looking her in the eye. She was calm, rather than the near hysteria she’d seen in her sister earlier.
“Yes. Our parents were murdered. We knew they’d been murdered and hid away for the rest of the journey. What has been done, what has been said and not said, has been done so that the MacTavishes live on, so that Payden can take his rightful place, so that Father and Mother will be honored, that their lives were not in vain. I would do it all again exactly the same way,” Muireall said. “James and Aunt have supported me. I expect you and Kirsty to do the same. There is nothing, nothing more important than guarding Payden and holding up the earldom for his return.”
“It’s been thirteen years, Muireall. We’ve become Americans. Our lives are here.”
Muireall stood and stepped close to Elspeth. “We are MacTavishes. We are the direct line of the chief of the clan. We will never, ever shirk our duties. Not as long as I draw breath.”
Chapter 13
“Pardon me, Mother?” Alexander asked as he picked up his fork and knife.
“I’ve planned a party—more a ball really, considering the number of guests who’ve said yes.”
Alexander was having dinner with his parents and Annabelle, as he did every Sunday evening. He glanced at his father. “This is the first I’m hearing about it, Mother.”
“I didn’t know I needed to ask your permission, darling,” his mother said with raised brows as she sipped her wine from a long-stemmed crystal glass.
“Of course you don’t need my permission. It’s just that there are several . . . things going on that may prove challenging for entertaining.”
“Such as?”
Alexander cut his filet mignon and shrugged, hoping to appear more nonchalant than he felt. “Well, security for one thing. You know that Father has added security to the house and the factory and to the two of you,” he said with a nod to Annabelle. “Large groups are a challenge even for Graham. Am I right, Father?”
“You are absolutely right,” he said sternly. “Your mother and I have had one of our rare disagreements about it, but she and your sister have run roughshod over me. I’ve got three meetings planned with Graham on the subject. You’re welcome to attend. In fact, I wish you would, considering who all is on the guest list.”
Alexander turned his head to his mother. “Not the usual? Uncle Nathan and Aunt Isadora? Your committee ladies? Some of Father’s cronies?”
“She’s invited all of them,” his sister said and studied the asparagus on her fork. “She’s also invited people whom she’s never invited before.”
“Must this be a guessing game?” he said with a laugh. “It would take me all evening to name all the Philadelphians who would kill to get an invitation to one of Mother’s balls.”
“I’ve invited the Misses Thompson, their brother, and their aunt,” his mother said. “I am much looking forward to meeting the whole family again. I haven’t asked the youngest brother. Not quite old enough, but I will if you would like me to.”
Alexander shook his head in disbelief and looked at his father, who was grim-faced. He turned to his mother and struggled to keep his voice even. “I wish you would have said something to me earlier. I would not want to raise any expectations from that family, and there are other matters that must be taken into consideration.”
“Miss Kirsty and Miss Elspeth are friends of mine, Alexander,” Annabelle said. “I thought they may be more inclined to come if the whole family was invited.”
Alexander stood. He had to, otherwise he would shout his displeasure. “Father, may we speak in the study? Now?”
Andrew Pendergast rose and laid his napkin beside his plate. “I assumed you’d want to speak straightaway. We’ll be back shortly, Gwen. Annabelle.”
Alexander could barely hold his temper until he closed his father’s study door. “You’ve got to stop this, Father! Elspeth was followed home last week by two men, one of whom beat me up in that alley the night of the fight. A prostitute Schmitt frequented was murdered. James Thompson and I believe there is considerable danger. How will we keep everyone safe? Can’t you just tell Mother no?”
Andrew Pendergast harrumphed a laugh. “Just tell Gwendolyn Smithers Pendergast no? That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull’s nose. And anyway, I don’t just tell your mother what to do, and I doubt whomever you choose as a bride will allow you to dictate to her either. It doesn’t work like that with bright, capable women, and who else would you want to marry?”
“This could be a nightmare. The house is so big, with so many rooms, and there’ll be extra staff we don’t know.”
“I’ve told your mother she must bring in any additional workers from the staff at the house in New Jersey and told her to see if Isadora will lend her some of her staff for the evening. We’ll be going over all of this with Graham this week. Let’s wait and see what he says.”
“Maybe it will all work out as you like, Alexander,” Annabelle said with a sly smile after he and father were reseated. “Maybe none of the Thompsons will be interested in coming. Maybe some aren’t as interested in you as you’d like to think.”
Alexander snarled at his sister, much like he used to do when he was ten years old and she was five. She laughed at him, much like she used to at that young age, and turned to her mother to discuss decorations for the upcoming event.
“Mr. Pendergast!” Kirsty said when she answered the door. “Oh, come in. You must come right in.” She took him by the hand and pulled him along to the open parlor door. “Look who is here, Muireall! Mr. Pendergast. Now you may ask your questions about the ball! Here. Seat yourse
lf here. I’ll get the tea tray.”
“What brings you here, Mr. Pendergast?” Muireall asked.
“I was hoping to visit with Miss Elspeth,” he said. He rose when Kirsty returned, followed by Robert carrying tea and coffee.
“Do sit down,” she said. “What will you have? Cakes? Tea? Coffee?”
“Just coffee,” he said.
“Elspeth is out doing some shopping,” Kirsty said and glanced at him. “Oh, do not panic. She is with our brother James. No one will bother her.”
“I hope you are all limiting your outings,” he said.
“We are,” Kirsty said. “I am so sick of looking at the faces of my brothers and sisters I could scream, and here it is April, when the flowers are blooming and everything is looking fresh and new, and we are stuck inside. But enough of that. I want to know every little thing about the invitation we’ve received.”
“Yes, Mr. Pendergast. Tell us about the invitation my sisters received,” Muireall said.
“My mother said the invitation is for everyone in your family including you, your aunt, your brother, and your youngest brother too, if you are so inclined.”
Kirsty put her hands together under her chin, smiling broadly. “Oh yes! Muireall is less likely to complain and even forbid us to go if Aunt Murdoch can chaperone.”
“Kirsty,” Muireall hissed. “Our decisions will be made privately.”
“I hear them now, Mr. Pendergast! I hear James and Elspeth,” she said and hurried from the room. “Elspeth! Mr. Pendergast is here. We’ll put that all away when he is gone. Come!”
Elspeth touched her hair and skirts, hurriedly following Kirsty. “Hello, Mr. Pendergast,” she said when she came into the room, and he stood.
He smiled and walked toward her. “Hello, Miss Thompson. You look lovely today.”
“That is enough oohing and aahing between you two. I want to know all about this event Mrs. Pendergast has invited us to. Come in and sit. There is coffee and tea. Where is James?” Kirsty said.