Beyond Reason

by Gwen Kirkwood

  Eliza Ross was indignant when the Reverend Drummond refused to discuss the funeral arrangements with her instead of Janet. Doctor Carr had warned him of her wild accusations but he was dismayed to find Janet made no attempt to defend herself.

  ‘I am responsible for Josiah’s death. If only I had not screamed….’ He looked at her pale face with the dark circles beneath her eyes and tried to reason with her.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ she said. ‘He would not have jumped off his bed, or hurried into the library. He would not have reached for the dagger to – to defend me from that – that b-beast. J-Josiah collapsed onto the floor and I-I could not help him … I could not help….’ Tears welled in her eyes.

  ‘Have you sent for Fingal McLauchlan, Janet?’ the minister asked quietly.

  ‘I have written. Doctor Carr took the letter. In his last letter, Fingal said he would be working in another town further north for a while. He may not get my letter in time.’

  ‘He will come for the funeral, I’m sure of it. He will help you deal with Mrs Ross and her son,’ he added firmly, his mouth tightening. ‘Now, do you have the key to Josiah’s desk, please? I know he kept his will in this top drawer. It is locked.’

  ‘I do not have the key. He kept it in his waistcoat pocket on his watch chain.’

  He knew Peggy and Maggie had washed and laid out Josiah’s body but Peggy had told him Mrs Ross had snatched away his suit of clothes as fast as they could remove them. He rang for Eliza Ross now. ‘Can I have the key to Josiah’s desk please?’ he asked.

  Eliza glared at him. ‘Why? You have no authority! My brother’s affairs have nothing to do with you!’

  ‘On the contrary I am the executor for his will, with Doctor Carr.’

  ‘He didn’t leave a will.’

  The Reverend Drummond looked up sharply and saw twin patches of colour stain her sallow cheeks. He guessed he would not find the will in the locked drawer, or anywhere else, even if he had the key. ‘Nevertheless I must search. There are ledgers relating to payments to be made to the workers.’

  Eliza drew herself up and sniffed, but she realized she had no option but to give him the key.

  When she had gone Emma came in with a basket of logs to mend the fire. ‘Please, sir, Mrs McLauchlan said I was to ask you if you would like a tray of tea brought in and if you will be staying for the evening meal.’

  ‘Thank her, Emma. I would enjoy a cup of tea and one of her scones with her raspberry jam, but I shall not be staying for a meal. I have much to do.’ He sighed. He had not found Josiah’s will in the desk drawer. ‘Emma, do you know if anyone has been in this office since Mr Saunders died?’

  ‘Only Mrs Ross, sir. Miss Jan… er, I mean Mrs Saunders often came in here with Mr Saunders. She helped with the ledgers for Home Farm, I think. She hasna been in since he died.’

  ‘So only Mrs Ross has been in here?’

  ‘Yes. She was burning papers,’ Emma said. ‘There were lots of blackened pieces in the grate this morning when I came in to light the fire.’

  ‘I see. Do you know what sort of papers?’

  ‘No, sir, I’m not very good at reading. There had been a big yellow envelope because part of it hadna burned. The papers were written by Mr Saunders. I know that because he had such lovely writing.’

  ‘Indeed he did. Thank you, Emma.’

  ‘Very good, sir. I will bring your tea now.’

  The Reverend Drummond watched her go thoughtfully. It was true Josiah had had fine copperplate handwriting and he had painstakingly made a copy of his will. Neither he nor Doctor Carr had considered it necessary to take so much trouble for such a long document. One of the copies Josiah had entrusted to himself to lodge with a lawyer in Dumfries. He remembered thinking Josiah was being over cautious, but apparently he had had good reason. Certainly there was no sign of the will where it was supposed to be. He scratched his head, trying to remember what Josiah had said. He had certainly put one copy of the document in a big yellow envelope, along with two sealed letters which he had said were to be given to his wife, Janet, and to Fingal McLauchlan. He had closed the envelope with wax and his personal seal in two places.

  His first duty as minister of the parish would be to see his good friend Josiah Saunders laid to rest in peace, but he would contact the lawyer and ask him to ride out to Crillion Keep and read Josiah’s will in person to all those mentioned in it. He knew there were quite a few because Josiah had been a scrupulously fair and generous man. Eliza Ross and her son would get a shock.

  Janet avoided both Mrs Ross and her son and prayed Fingal would get here in time for the funeral. When she went to bed, she relived the nightmare of Josiah’s death, and still she blamed herself, deliberately shutting out the memory of Henry’s marauding hands and evil intentions. Sleep evaded her, or if it came it was filled with nightmares.

  On the morning of the funeral, Janet looked like a ghost clad from head to toe in black. Fingal had not come. Henry’s arm had twice as many bandages as usual and he held it prominently in a sling fashioned by his mother. As soon as he had an audience he moaned about his wound, the pain and how he had nearly died. Maggie McLauchlan beckoned Janet in to the kitchen away from the other mourners who were still arriving.

  ‘Donald thought you would like to see these two people, Janet, and they want to see you. I’ve put them in my wee room off the kitchen.’

  ‘Has Fingal arrived?’

  ‘No, not yet. Maybe he didn’t get the letter in time. Come through here….’

  ‘Mrs Foster! And Joe!’ Janet cried, her face lighting for a moment. She ran towards them and Mrs Foster opened her arms wide and hugged her, while Joe looked on shyly, twisting his hat in his hand. He was still a boy even though he did a man’s work and carried the responsibility.

  ‘I am so sorry, so very sorry, I left you in the lurch when I ran away,’ Janet said.

  ‘No, no, Janet, you’re not the one who should be sorry. I was more grateful than you’ll ever know when I heard you had survived yon winter’s night and found refuge with your friends here.’ She looked at Maggie. ‘And now you have more grief, lassie, when you should be enjoying life.’

  ‘It’s a long drive from Braeheights so I’ve made Hannah and her laddie a cup of tea and a bite to eat,’ Maggie interrupted, afraid too much sympathy might shatter Janet’s fragile control.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Mrs McLauchlan,’ Joe said gratefully. ‘I didna have time to eat my breakfast this morning.’ He turned to Janet. ‘Ye would hear about father’s accident? His leg was broken in three places. His kneecap is twisted. That’s why Ma and me were able to come. She really wanted to see you, Janet. We all missed you.’

  ‘I’ve missed you and your brothers too, Joe,’ Janet said. ‘Is your father improving?’

  ‘He’ll never walk again without a stick the doctor says. He’s dependent on Ma now so he has to do what we want. There’s been no more babies since Ma nearly died. I’m thankful for that and so is Ma.’

  ‘Yes, she looks well; quite lovely, in fact,’ Janet said sincerely. She had noticed at once how different Mrs Foster looked to the tired, haggard woman she had been.

  The Fosters went through to mix with the other mourners now the large hall was filling up. Afterwards there would be food and wine in the main dining room, which Maggie and her helpers had opened up and cleaned. Janet’s heart was too heavy with sorrow to pay much attention. She simply saw a blur of faces and greeted people politely when they sought to shake her hand, or murmur sympathy. Then the prayers were over and Josiah was being driven away for the last time in the coach pulled by four shining black horses with the men following.

  Janet felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned to see Hannah Foster looking anxious.

  ‘Can we go somewhere private? I need to talk to you, Janet.’

  ‘Come to my bedroom, then, but I must see that things are ready for the wake….’ She led the way up the stairs away from the crowd of women gathering in the large sitting room.
<
br />   ‘It’s Mrs Ross, Janet. She’s spreading nasty rumours and saying you killed your husband and you tried to kill her son and he’s badly wounded.’

  ‘She has been saying such things ever since J-Josiah d-died,’ Janet said wearily. ‘Anyway, it was my fault he died, even though I didn’t strike him dead. I screamed and he rushed to help me. We knew his heart was very weak. I should not have screamed for help.’

  ‘So it is true what Donald Baird told us? Henry Ross tried to molest you?’

  ‘Yes. He is a beast of a man!’ Janet said through gritted teeth. ‘I wish they would go home and leave us in peace, but Mrs Ross is planning to take over here.’

  ‘That’s what I need to tell you. Joe was standing on his own at the far end of that great hall. He wasn’t hiding but Mrs Ross didn’t see him beside the stone pillar. She was whispering to a man Joe thinks he is her husband because he said he would take her and their son home with him today. She said she was not leaving, and neither was Henry. She says they are staying because the Crillion estate should be theirs now her brother is dead. She told him you had killed your husband and tried to murder Henry and—’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘I know. She says the Reverend Drummond has to carry out the funeral for two young children so he will be unable to return here for the wake.’

  ‘I know, but he has been a great comfort already.’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t understand, Janet. That woman has sent her coachman to Dumfries town to bring the constable. She says when he has heard her story he will take you to prison to be put on trial. The minister will not be here to speak up for you.’

  ‘B-but I have done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Joe said the man told her she was crazy, but she told him she had already sent for the constable and he would see she was right when you were taken away.’

  Janet’s face had turned ashen. She had never seen a constable or a prison. She had never been further than Braeheights. She shuddered at the thought of being locked up.

  ‘If only Fingal had come! He would know what I should do. He would believe me.’

  ‘We all believe you, lassie, but the constable will be a stranger. He will listen to that – that evil woman. Don’t wait for the constable to come. Don’t let him take you to prison to wait for a trial. Listen to me, Janet. Pack a bag now. Leave it outside the door of the laundry. Joe will pick it up and take it in the trap with us. As soon you’ve seen the mourners occupied with their food and drink you must slip away through the back. Joe says you can cut through the woods behind Crillion Keep to keep out of sight. We are going to stay the night with my mother. She lives on the edge of Rowanbank village. We’ll pick you up at the far corner of the wood and take you with us. Mother will give you a bed for the night. Then we’ll think what to do. Maybe you could go to my cousin over the border into England. You would be safe there until someone can convince the constable of your innocence. At least if you are free you can get Fingal McLauchlan to defend you!’

  Janet had flopped down onto the bed and now she hid her face in her hands.

  ‘Why, oh why did Josiah have to die? He was a good man,’ she wept.

  ‘I’m sure he was, Janet,’ Hannah Foster said more gently, ‘and he wouldn’t want you to be locked in prison to await a trial for the trumped-up charges his sister intends to make. I want you to be safe until someone can help. Joe thinks Mrs Ross must be a wicked woman.’

  ‘Mrs McLauchlan tried to warn me,’ Janet said. ‘She says the Ross family have influential friends, but we never thought she would send for the constable.’

  ‘Please do as I say, lassie,’ Hannah Foster pleaded. ‘At least until we know whether the constable will act on the word of Mrs Ross. I must get back to the others now and so must you. After the men return you can slip away. I have never seen so many people. Mr Saunders must have been well respected in the parish.’ She patted Janet’s shoulder. ‘Pack your bag now, Janet. We’ll wait for you at the corner of the wood. Better not tell Mrs McLauchlan in case Mrs Ross blames her for helping you.’

  Janet didn’t want to run away when she had committed no crime, but would the constable believe her? Would he have to take her to prison while other men decided who to believe? She shivered and stuffed some of her things in a canvas bag. She longed to take her wooden writing box but it would take too much room; but she would take the pens Josiah had given her, and her bank book from the secret drawer. She gathered what coins she had.

  After she had mingled a little while with the mourners, offering them the trays of food or drink, Janet slipped away. Once in the woods she felt the breeze and lifted her face to the sky, still visible in patches through the treetops. She found the path and followed it blindly. She didn’t want to leave the place which had always been her refuge in time of trouble, even when she was a helpless baby, but what was there for her now with the venomous Mrs Ross in charge? Josiah had said she would always be secure and he had made her promise she would take care of his loyal workers too, but how could she do that now? He was dead and she had no influence with anybody.

  Most of the mourners were leaving by the time the constable arrived, riding an elderly horse which Donald declared in need of a good feed and a rest. He didn’t believe for a minute that the man could believe Janet guilty of hurting anyone but he was as surprised as everybody else when it seemed Janet had disappeared.

  ‘It proves she is guilty when she is hiding,’ Eliza Ross declared triumphantly. Even so she wondered why Janet had gone and if she knew she had sent for the constable.

  ‘Did you tell her, Henry?’ she demanded, rounding angrily on her son.

  ‘Of course not! What do you think I am?’

  ‘A fool. I will go and see if she has run away, or if she is just hiding until nightfall when she thinks the constable will have left.’ Eliza poked around in Janet’s bedroom. ‘Her clothes are still there, and even her precious writing box,’ she sneered. ‘She wouldn’t leave that. Josiah made her believe she was a scholar. She will be skulking somewhere in the lofts or outbuildings until you leave, my man. You had better stay the night.’

  The constable was only too happy to get a bed and a sleep before embarking on the eight-mile ride back to town. In fact he didn’t think his hired horse would carry him back tonight.

  ‘McLauchlan,’ Eliza called loudly, ‘have the maid prepare a bed for the constable in the servants’ quarters, and give him some bread and a drink of ale.’ This was Eliza Ross’s first mistake. The constable didn’t like being despatched like a box of rubbish and he resented her superior manner. On the other hand, Maggie McLauchlan could see the man was hungry the way his eyes devoured the remains of the food from the funeral wake.

  ‘I’ll make you up a tray of food to take to your room,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Better not let her see you eating in here, even though half of this will probably go to the pigs. She will be expecting a cooked dinner tonight.’

  ‘You don’t seem to care much for your mistress?’

  ‘We don’t believe Mr Saunders meant her to be mistress here,’ Maggie said bluntly. ‘He promised we would all be secure in our jobs with Janet – er Mrs Saunders, his – his widow.’ She sighed. ‘The minister says he made a will but he can’t find it in the house, even though he is an executor, whatever that means.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I shall have to take the young widow away with me for trial when we do find her,’ the constable said. ‘It is not up to me to judge whether she is guilty or not, but why did she need to hide if she is innocent?’

  ‘She must have heard you were coming. She’s no match for a woman like Mrs Ross. She has warned all of us to keep our mouths shut or we shall lose our jobs.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think.’ The constable shook his head. ‘Mrs Ross made a good case for murder in her letter to the magistrates and running away smacks of guilt.’

  ‘If Janet had stayed here you would have had her halfway to prison by now,’ Maggie said sharply. ‘But
I’m surprised she didn’t tell me she was going.’ She wiped a hand over her brow. ‘I hope she’s safe, wherever she is.’

  When she returned to her own cottage for the night, Maggie had half hoped to find Janet hiding in the box bed, waiting for her. She knew Donald had searched the loft above the stable and the sheds where the joiner and the gardener worked and even the blacksmith’s forge and his barn. She had had a busy and upsetting day. She undressed and almost fell into bed in her exhaustion. Even so, sleep did not come easy. If only she was sure Janet was safe and warm somewhere.

  A few hours later she was wakened by someone kindling the fire in the grate and pouring water from her big jug into the kettle. She drew the curtain aside and peeped out.

  ‘Fingal! You’ve come! Oh, laddie, I am glad to see ye!’ She sprang out of bed and hugged him tightly. Then she grabbed her shawl and pulled it around her. ‘You look exhausted, Fingal?’

  ‘I am. Janet’s letter was waiting for me when I arrived back in Edinburgh yesterday morning. I set out again straight away but I knew I would be too late for the funeral. How is Janet?’

  Maggie filled him in on all the events since Henry’s attack on Janet to the arrival of the constable and Janet’s disappearance. ‘I could boil some eggs for ye in the kettle, Fingal, and I have some fresh bread I brought down from the kitchens. I might have guessed ye’d be here and hungry. You were always hungry when ye came home.’

  ‘Thanks, Mother. I could eat a horse, but I could whip Henry Ross and throttle his devious, lying mother.’

  ‘Oh, hush, laddie! Don’t talk like that, it will get ye into trouble.’

  ‘Tell me everything again, then, while I eat so that I have the story clear in my own head. After that I will sleep for an hour in the chair, then I shall waken the constable so that I can talk to him without Mrs Ross. I must try to convince him she has brought him here on a wild goose chase.’