Janet watched Alastair talking to the innkeeper, who nodded, and after a few moments turned and smiled at her.
'I'm sorry for your trouble, lass. I've only a small room, my son's, but he's away right now, and you're welcome to it. Your man here has agreed to sleep in the hayloft, while your poor grandmother lies at rest in the barn. He,' he added, nodding towards Murdo, 'can sleep in the hay as well.'
Janet, thankful to be relieved of responsibility, followed the innkeeper inside and was handed over to his wife, who murmured in sympathy and insisted on bringing a bowl of broth and some bread and cheese up to the room.
'You'll be better alone,' she said, nodding to herself,. 'We've a whole group here tonight, a rough-looking lot, some of them, and angry at being turned off their crofts. Best you keep out of their way.'
The room was tiny, but Janet was thankful to be alone, to give way at last to her grief. She was almost too tired to eat, but the broth was warm and comforting, and she forced herself to swallow some of the bread and cheese. The next day would be difficult, saying a final farewell to her grandmother.
On the following day Mary was laid to rest in a small churchyard, and after a last lingering look at the hastily filled-in grave, Janet squared her shoulders and turned to face the future, Glasgow and then Canada.
***
Chapter 5
When the track was wide enough, Murdo brought his horse alongside the cart, sometimes jostling to get in front of Alastair. He, however, seemed content to ride behind them, to Janet's regret. She was still weary, desolate at the final parting with her grandmother, and wanted peace to come to terms with her loss. Murdo's repeated urgings that she marry him eventually made her turn on him in fury.
'Murdo, leave me alone! I don't want to marry you, and the more you pester me now the less likely I ever will!'
Murdo looked at her, a hurt expression in his eyes. 'I only want to protect you,' he muttered. 'But I suppose you think I've nothing to give you, no money for fine clothes, like wealthy Englishmen can provide.'
'I'm going to Canada! I don't want fine clothes!'
'You're just bemused with that smooth Englishman flinging round his money and his orders.'
'Would the innkeeper have let us stay if he hadn't been there?'
'He'd have listened to me.'
'Unlikely! Or the Minister agree to bury Grandmother? I don't think so, and I'm grateful to him, but nothing more.'
'He'll ask for payment, you see! Englishmen are all the same. They take what they want by force, or soft words and promises that mean nought.'
'You don't know him. He's not your rival, Murdo. And I mean nought to him, he's merely being kind because Mary asked him to help. She knew it was near the end.'
She spoke vehemently, and Murdo had to drop back as the track, passing through a wooded area, narrowed, but Janet wondered whether she had not protested too strongly. Alastair had kissed her, after all. Was he, as Murdo suggested, likely to demand payment? Was he attracted to her more than for just casual dalliance? Would he expect her compliance? Was that why he had been so helpful?
He wasn't like that. She was sure he would not exact a reward such as Murdo, jealous and possessive, predicted. She thought back to that first, devastating kiss, and felt a slight tremor deep within her. No man had ever kissed her like that. And when he had held her in his arms for comfort, he had felt warm and strong and reliable.
She sat up straighter. He meant nothing to her, just someone who had snatched a kiss when the chance arose, which ought to make her wary, but didn't. And his kindness since had had a brotherly feel about it. It was how Iain would have behaved, no more.
Soon she would be on her way to rejoin Iain. It had been her plan, and she could now think of the details. How soon might she expect to find a passage from Glasgow? The ships taking the emigrants on the long voyage to Nova Scotia left frequently, she'd heard. Luckily it was still early summer, there was time to make the crossing before the winter gales stopped them.
Thoughts of what Canada was like, recollections from Iain's letter describing the harsh country near Halifax, occupied her until she was jolted back to the present by shouts coming from the densely growing trees on either side of the narrow path.
The pony reared in fright, and would have bolted had two men not leapt forward and hauled on the reins. Several others surrounded the cart, and one reached up, grabbed Janet round the waist, and dragged her to the ground.
She fought viciously, biting and kicking, and he swore loudly as her boots connected with his shins.
'Ye'll pay for that!' he growled, pulling her towards him and imprisoning both of her arms behind her back with one hand while with the other he tried to turn her face towards his. 'Ye're a beauty, a wildcat, but we'll tame ye.'
'You'll do no such thing.'
It was Alastair's voice and Janet sagged in relief, then took the opportunity of her captor's relaxing his grip to drag free. She glanced behind her to see Alastair, still mounted, pointing two pistols at the men. Murdo was tussling with one of them, both rolling on the ground, but the others, she thought there were four or five, had drawn back from the cart and were regarding Alastair warily.
'Murdo!' Alastair's brusque tone penetrated to the men on the ground, and they looked up. Murdo struggled to his feet, kicking the other as he did so.
'Shoot them,' he panted.
'Don't be a fool. Get some of the rope that ties the bundles, but don't get in between them and my line of fire. You can tie them up.'
Murdo began to protest that they should be killed, it wasn't safe to leave them alive, but Janet nodded and moved towards the cart. Careful not to block Alastair's aim, she quickly found a spare hank of rope which had been used to secure the abandoned chair. She took it behind the men and began securing their hands behind their backs. Murdo hovered behind her, demanding to be allowed to take over, but she shook her head and curtly told him to keep away and stop distracting her. Having nothing with which to cut the rope, she simply hooked the men all together, until she had all the attackers imprisoned.
'Well done,' Alastair said, chuckling as he dismounted and put away his pistols. 'We'll tie them to a tree, and it will take them some time, I think, to find a way out of that tangle. Murdo, go and catch your horse. He won't have gone far.'
He led the imprisoned men, stumbling, spitting and cursing, further into the wood until he found a tree to which he could lash the ends of the rope, well above their heads.
'That should keep them occupied for a while,' he murmured.
'I didn't know you carried pistols,' Janet said as they walked back to the cart.
'Fortunate that I do,' he replied easily. 'Those were other poor dispossessed devils, I imagine. Soldiers would have been more organised. These seemed rather desperate.'
'They will be able to get free, won't they?' Janet asked. 'They won't die there?'
'Of course not! If they can't find a way of undoing the ropes they'll be heard by other travellers,' he said, laughing, and Janet grinned. She too could hear the frantic shouts for help coming from behind them.
'We'd better rid ourselves of the cart and the cow as soon as possible, though,' Alastair said as, before Janet knew what was happening, he picked her up and lifted her back into the driving seat. 'It slows us down, and you won't need to keep more than the absolute essentials, for I'll look after you now.'
Murdo, who had been standing moodily beside the cart, holding his own horse's bridle, began to protest that the cart was useful, but Alastair cut him short.
'Let's move. It may not take them very long to free themselves, and they'll be thirsting for vengeance.'
There were no more chances for talk. Janet's thoughts were confused. What had he meant? What had Mary made him promise to do? Did he merely intend to escort her to a ship, or had there been something more sinister in his promise to look after her? Was Murdo right after all?
She hoped not. She had trusted Alastair, was coming to rely on him, and been gr
ateful to him for his help, but she would not become his mistress, if that was his intention. And what else could he mean? Marriage, the only other interpretation, was out of the question even if she would agree. And she was going to Canada.
He was wealthy, he owned English estates, and though he hadn't said it, surely there would be pressure on him to marry the heiress who had been promised to his dead brother? What was her name? Sophia, with estates adjacent to his. It would be an ideal match, as Janet knew. For the aristocracy and landowners marriage was a calculated arrangement. Not for them the pairing from inclination and choice of the lower orders. Had her own parents lived, she would no doubt have been married off to a man who could enlarge her father's business.
Her musings were interrupted as they approached a large village. Alastair led them to the shade of a large oak, and Janet was soon busy sorting out the essentials she could carry on the pony while she rode. It was not a great deal, a few clothes, her letter from Iain, her own store of gold coins and Mary's few jewels in the small box where Mary had always kept her most precious possessions. The rest of it she was happy to sell, and soon Alastair, who had been to the nearby inn, returned with a couple of men who were interested in the cow and the cart.
They haggled, but Alastair haggled back, and soon a price was agreed, better than Janet had expected. The cow was led away, lowing plaintively at all this unaccustomed exercise, and the other man fetched a pony to hitch to the cart. Alastair handed Janet a bag full of coins.
She was busy arranging the bundles she had left behind the rug which would serve as her saddle, and strapping the box between them.
'Thank you. I didn't expect to get such a good price.'
'Put it away safely.'
She opened the box, and blinked in astonishment, and then began. to search frantically in the small wooden box. 'No! It must be here!'
'Janet? What is it?'
'My money, the gold I had to pay my passage! It's gone!'
'Are you certain? Has it slipped under something else?'
Janet shook her head. 'I've looked. There isn't much else, nothing big enough to hide it. Look for yourself.'
'Ye don't need it, I tell you,' Murdo said. 'I'll provide all we need.'
Janet ignored him. She was trying to think. Who had been near her box? When could it have been taken? 'Those men who attacked us, they didn't have chance to open the box.'
Alastair took hold of her hand and stroked it to still the trembling. 'Steady, now, let's try and work it out. When did you last see the gold?'
Janet took a deep breath and tried to think calmly. She clung to Alastair's hand. His touch was comforting. 'Before we left the cottage. When I loaded it onto the cart.'
'So there have been times when the cart has been left, when anyone could have stolen it.'
Janet forced herself to think. 'Yes, the first night when we had to sleep on the hillside. When I helped Murdo away, after he'd been wounded. Then the night Mary died, I was alone, and in the morning I went to the river to wash, I left the catrt. Did you see anyone around, Murdo, when you came? Before I got back?'
He shook his head. 'I heard some rustling, but it could have been deer, or foxes. There was also the night Mr Fenton made us leave poor Mary's body in the barn.'
'Did you hear anything?' Janet asked.
Alastair shook his head. 'We were right above it in the hayloft, we'd have heard. Besides, the barn door was secured inside with an iron bar. That must have made enough noise to wake me. Murdo, did you hear anything that night?'
'No, but as I tell Janet, it doesn't matter, I'll look after her.'
'I'm going to Canada!' Janet said, exasperated, and then she realised that without the gold she could not pay her passage. 'But now I don't have the money.' She thought hard. 'I might have enough if I took ship to Ireland. The cost's less in their ships.'
'And from all I've heard they are leaky old tubs, riddled with vermin, half of them never get there and on the others most of the passengers die!' Alastair said bluntly. 'You can't go on one of them. Besides, would you have enough to keep you until you could follow your brother to wherever he's gone? Canada is a huge place, it could take months before you found him.'
'Then I'll have to find a job in Glasgow,' she said blankly. 'How long do you think it will take me to earn enough?' Was Alastair trying to deter her? And if so, why? What did he want of her? Was Murdo right, that he would expect payment for the help he was giving them?
'You don't need to,' Murdo repeated, 'I'll find a job.' Neither Janet nor Alastair paid him any attention.
At the same time Alastair spoke. 'We can't think about it now, Janet. Let's get on our way, and we can make plans when we've reached Glasgow.'
It took over a week, during which they slept in the open, rolled up in cloaks on beds of heather. They passed other groups of travellers, stopping to exchange news and talk of plans. Many were going to Canada, and Janet absorbed all she could of what they knew about the new country.
She was weary of riding by the time Alastair drew rein outside a large new house on the west of the city.
'We'll be able to stay here,' he said.
Janet looked dubious. Would they accept her, bedraggled as she was after so long a journey? It was a district where many new houses had been built by the wealthy merchants and lairds, in the cleaner air. It was late, after sunset, and Janet forgot her doubts as she thought longingly about whether she would be able to lie on a soft mattress this night.
'A cousin's house,' Alastair explained. He plied the knocker and the door was opened promptly by a liveried manservant, who expressed no surprise to be confronted by three travel-stained riders.
Murdo, who had been moody during the entire journey, drew back. 'I'll be away to find myself a bed,' he muttered. 'I doubt I'll be welcome here, in this fine house. Now I know where you are, Janet, I'll come and talk with you tomorrow.'
Alastair merely nodded, and turned to help Janet dismount. As she passed through into the wide hallway she turned and saw Murdo, suddenly looking forlorn, his shoulders drooping, riding away.
Then her attention was taken up with greetings from Alastair's cousin, a woman a few years older than he was, and her husband, a wealthy merchant who owned, they told her later, several silk works.
Gordon and Margaret MacBeith seemed delighted to welcome their unexpected guests, and Margaret hustled Janet upstairs, calling to the maids to bring water, quickly.
'You'll like a bath, no doubt, and some supper in your room, in peace,' she suggested, and Janet smiled thankfully at her.
She did not feel like making polite conversation to strangers, and besides, her gowns were all crumpled, and not at all fine enough to wear in this luxurious house. For a moment she thought wistfully of the gowns she had possessed in her own home in Edinburgh, but thrust the thought aside. She would never again have the need for silks and satins. Her working gowns, all she had kept, which had been her normal attire in Strathnaver, would serve while she worked to raise money for a more comfortable, safer passage, and no doubt in Canada she would need the same, for life there would be hard too.
Several maids bustled about, lighting the fire in Janet's bedroom, filling the bath they set in front of it from steaming copper cans, warming thick soft towels, and whisking away her clothes to wash and iron. She felt pampered, and sank down into the soft, scented water with a sigh of sheer bliss. It was the first time, she thought, that she had felt truly content since Mary died.
Afterwards a tray appeared, borne by a plump, motherly woman who announced with an English accent that she was Mistress MacBeith's personal maid, and if there was anything Mistress Mackay wanted of her, she would be very happy to oblige.
'You're to be left to sleep in the morning, but when you are ready to eat, ring the bell and a tray will be brought.'
Janet was soon asleep, and even the unaccustomed noises of a town did not disturb her. The sun was high in the sky when she awoke, to find the fire burning cheerfully, her fres
hly laundered gowns hanging on hooks, and a can of hot water waiting her on the washing stand.
She washed, revelling in the luxury of it, and rang the bell. A maid appeared almost at once, bearing a tray with porridge, thin slices of bread and butter, a dish of tea and one of chocolate.
'We didn't know which you'd prefer,' she said, bobbing a curtsey, 'so cook said to bring both. And is there anything else you'd like? Some cold beef, perhaps? Or ham?'
'No, nothing, this is perfect,' Janet reassured her.
'Then I'll come back later to help you dress and show you to the mistress's room,' the girl said.
Janet nodded, but she had dressed herself in her best gown before the maid reappeared. She'd never had her own maid, though if her parents had not died she would soon have been provided with one, as she began to go about in society. Seeing the little maid's anxiety at having been, as she thought, late, neglecting her duties, Janet tried to reassure her, and allowed her to brush out her long hair which, from having been washed the previous evening, was in a fly-away state and difficult to confine in a decorous style. In the end Janet secured it with a ribbon and tied it in a loose knot on top of her head.
When Jeannie, as the maid shyly told her she was called, was satisfied, she led Janet down a flight of wide stairs to the room she called the boudoir, where Margaret MacBeith was sitting at a small table teaching a little girl of about five to write, using a small slate.
She turned and rose to greet Janet.
'My, you look so much better. I hope you slept well?'
'Wonderfully,' Janet replied. 'I am so sorry I'm so late, it's rude of me.'
'Not at all. From what Alastair tells me you've had a difficult time, and you must have been exhausted. This is my daughter, Flora. Say good morning to our guest, Flora, then you must run away, your lesson is over for the day.'
The child, dark, petite, and with an enchanting smile, curtseyed and almost fell over. She giggled gleefully and went off skipping, holding Jeannie's hand.
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