Bride of the Solway

by Joanna Maitland

  He did not allow her to say a word until they were beyond the edge of the town and walking along the open river bank where he could be sure that no one was within earshot. 'I need your help, Morag. I am going to rescue your mistress.'

  'Aye, sir.'

  'She is a prisoner at Langrigg House. Fraser has tried to buy the help of some of the servants there, but they are all too afraid of James Elliott.'

  'Aye, sir. 'Twas always the way. He thrashed one wee lad till he was half-dead. And all but shot another. Nobody dares to cross him. Not any mair.'

  'Not any more? Why? What has happened?'

  if he disna get the money from someplace soon, he'll lose Langrigg. That's what I was telt. Without Langrigg, he'd have no power left. Selling Miss Cassie is all that he can do.'

  'Have you heard something, Morag? These people will not talk to me. Or even to Fraser.'

  'No, sir. Outrels.'

  'What? Oh, outsiders.'

  'At Gretna, when we had to bide a wee while for the horses, they telt me that Miss Cassie was to be wed. I didna believe it.'

  Ross almost doubled up with pain. It was worse that being struck by a heavyweight prizefighter. He could not stifle a terrible groan.

  Morag let out a strangled cry as the truth hit home. 'But ye'll save her, sir, won't ye? Ye must save Miss Cassie!'

  He would try. By God, he would try. She could not have stopped lov­ing him. He would not believe it. Not when he needed her...loved her so. Not when she needed him to take action to save her. Now.

  'Tell me, Morag. Where will she be? He has her a prisoner. Where will he hold her?'

  in her chamber, at the top o' the house.'

  'How can I tell which is her room? How do I reach her?'

  'Ye canna do that, sir. There's split-new bars on the window. And ye canna climb the wall. Ye canna get her out by that way.'

  'So I have to go in through the house?'

  She nodded.

  'Will there be many servants? Able-bodied men?'

  'Aye, surely. The laird'll expect ye. He'll shoot ye. And there'll be no­body to cry "murther" when he does.'

  Ross beat one clenched fist into the other palm. A suicide attack would not save Cassie. There had to be another way. 'Tell me about the wedding, Morag.'

  'What d'ye mean, sir?'

  'How will it go forward? I know nothing of the customs in this part of the world.'

  'Well, a wedding hereabouts can be just a declaration, with witnesses. There disna even have to be a minister.'

  'So he could force her, without even leaving Langrigg?'

  'Aye, but he'll no' do that. A lady has to be wed in the kirk. Or before the minister, somewheres else. The gentles wouldna accept the marriage, without that.'

  'I see.' Ross bit his lip. There must be something here he could hold on to. 'So...either she'll be wed in the church, or her brother will hiin^ the minister to Langrigg House. Which church will it be? Which minister'?'

  'Annan kirk. 'Twould be unco strange to use another. Langrigg is on Annan parish.'

  Ross put an arm round Morag's shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze. 'Time for us to go back to Annan, Morag. I think I need to have an interview with this minister of yours.'

  The minister, Mr McLean, was a bald, cheery-looking man with a very florid complexion. He readily admitted that Miss Cassandra Elliott was soon to be married. He himself was to officiate.

  Ross began to stride up and down in the neat sitting room of the manse. It was all he could do to keep his anger in check, 'I have to tell you, sir, that this is a forced marriage. Miss Elliott does not go willingly to the altar. You must prevent it.'

  'I could not do that, my dear sir. I have the word of the lady herself that it is her wish.'

  'I don't believe it!' The harsh words were out before he had time to stop them. And then he realised they were true. She would never have agreed. Never.

  'I beg your pardon, sir?' The minister's red face had flushed an unbecoming purple at the implied insult.

  Ross swallowed hard, fighting his emotions. What had happened to his vaunted self-control and his soldier's experience? He needed the minister on his side, but he had just called him a liar. Or as good as.

  'Forgive me, Mr McLean. I did not mean to suggest... I had it on good authority that the lady was not willing in this match. Or so I thought. But I can see that I was much too hasty in what I just said. I ask you to accept my apology.'

  The minister nodded. His colour subsided and his cheerful manner returned. 'No offence taken, young man. No offence taken. I can quite understand that Miss Elliott might not have favoured the match at first. The groom is...well...somewhat older than the lady, and already twice widowed. But he is a man of good standing in society. And with a fine estate over by Newtown Douglas. I imagine Miss Elliott became recon­ciled to the match when she learned of all its many advantages.'

  Ross would not let himself reply. The minister seemed to think that Cassie Elliott would willingly marry some lecherous old man, just for his wealth and status. She would not. Not his Cassie. Not when she was already in love with Ross. She would not!

  So why had she told the minister that she agreed? '

  'You saw Miss Elliott alone, did you, sir?'

  'No. Why would I do that? There was no need. Her brother was by. 'Tis he who will lead her to the altar, after all.'

  'Ah, yes. Of course. I had forgot. Will you be so good as to tell me, sir, when the wedding is to take place? I should very much like to be present.'

  'Excellent. I like to see a good congregation for a wedding. All the Langrigg people will be there, of course, and some of the groom's peo­ple, too. But I am less sure about the gentlefolk hereabouts. They may not be aware...'

  'When is it, sir?' Ross asked again, with quiet determination.

  'Why, tomorrow morn.'

  'So soon? My goodness. She must have changed her mind quite sud­denly, sir.' Ross was trying to keep his tone light, it was only the other day that I learnt—from the lady's own lips—that she had set her face against the marriage.'

  'Ah, well, sir. Women are fickle. Very fickle. Yesterday, I learned that the wedding was to go ahead with all speed.'

  Ross's eyebrows rose, indeed?'

  'Aye. And with the ceremony due to her station, forbye. Her brother asked for just a quiet wedding, at Langrigg. But Miss Elliott was adamant that she had to be married in the kirk, or nowhere.'

  Ah! The vice around Ross's heart slackened half a notch. Now he un­derstood. His Cassie—and she was his—was risking everything on one mad throw of the dice. And on Ross's resolve being strong enough.

  It would be.

  Cassie's wedding day dawned grey and cold. She was perversely glad of it. She could not have borne to see sunshine, or a blue sky. This day would bring a new beginning. Or put a period to her existence.

  She had to trust that Ross would come for her. And somehow rescue her. But, if he did not, she would take matters into her own hands. Even if it was a sin.

  She smoothed the skirts of her fine muslin petticoat and carefully un­rolled the leather pouch that contained her sewing materials. She ex­tracted her longest bodkin and tried it on her thumb. Aye, it was surely sharp enough. She wrapped it in a scrap of silk and stowed it carefully in her pocket.

  But one weapon was not enough. What if someone noticed what she was concealing there? She needed to be sure she could carry out her plan. She scanned the bare chamber rapidly. There seemed to be nothing but the plain furniture and that cursed white gown that her brother had thrown across the bed an hour before.

  In desperation, she pulled out the drawer of the night stand. Spills, wafers, a tinder box, some candle ends... Ah, the tiny little knife she had once used to pare her nails. She beamed in triumph. No one had thought to look there. She had forgotten it herself. The knife was small, but it was sharp. Sharp enough to stop a man in his tracks.

  She dare not put it in her pocket. She must find a different hiding place for this. Wh
ere on earth...?

  With a shudder, she remembered precisely when she was likely to need a weapon. A pocket was not the place to hide it. Very deliberately, she rolled the little knife in a muslin handkerchief and pushed it under the top of her silk stocking. Then, gritting her teeth, she donned her bridal gown and stood, facing the door, waiting for James to come for her.

  'Ross,' she breathed, fingering the tiny bulge in her stocking through the layers of fine muslin and lace, 'I know you will come. I love you, Ross. I am yours. And I will be yours. Or no one's.'

  Fraser should be back by now. Where on earth was the confounded man? Unless perhaps he'd had problems with Morag? It was certainly true that she did not take well to horses, but in the hired gig... ? There should have been no difficulty, surely? All Fraser had to do was deposit Morag, make a few arrangements and grease a few palms, and then re­turn to Annan to collect his horse.

  If he did not arrive soon, Ross would have to go ahead on his own. He stroked Hera's glossy neck. 'Easy, girl. You shall have your moment of glory soon enough. Just don't let me down when I put you to that great door.' Ross twisted the reins in his fingers, trying to remain calm. He knew it was utter madness. It would create an enormous scandal. There was no doubt of that. News of it might even reach London. And if it did not, it would certainly spread far enough around Dumfries to ensure that neither he nor Cassie would ever be able to return there. But what choice did he have?

  Ross straightened his shoulders and shook his head, more at his own anxieties than anything else. He had gone through every possible ave­nue—some even more outrageous than this—but neither he, nor Fraser, had been able to arrive at a better solution. He would simply have to grit his teeth and carry out their plan. Cassie would understand, would she not? Yes. She was bound to. If the choice was between scandal and a forced marriage, she would understand. For she loved him. She did.

  Hera was starting to fidget. They had been standing still too long. Perhaps the burghers of Annan were already beginning to wonder why an acknowledged wedding guest was still sitting on his horse at the other end of the street, rather than making his way on foot into the kirk. If Fraser did not appear in the next few minutes, Ross would have to make a move. Meanwhile, he sat quietly, trying to calm his marc and watching the various people entering the church. So far, almost all of them had seemed to belong to the lower classes: servants from Langrigg—some of whom he recognised—and probably servants from the groom's estate, too. One or two of the better dressed members of the congregation might be tradesmen from Annan itself. If they were suppliers to Langrigg—even if they did not get paid—they would want to attend.

  Ah, but that was no tradesman! A pair of fine horses trotted down the High Street and halted by the church. The tall figure of Colonel Anstruther dismounted. The other rider, equally a gentleman though unknown to Ross, joined him and the pair entered the kirk. They were followed, a few minutes later, by three more gentlemen and two ladies. It did not matter that Ross had no idea who they were. The presence of gentlefolk would make a huge difference. No matter how many of his henchmen James Elliott had around him, he would have to behave like a gentlemen in the company of his peers.

  It seemed the guests were now all assembled. For several minutes, no one else entered the church. Everyone was waiting for—

  Ross found he was holding his breath, waiting too. At last, the moment came. The Elliott carriage drew up in front of the doorway. Ross strained in his saddle, but he could not see. His view of the entrance was obscured by the carriage.

  She must have gone in. With her brother.

  Ross must act quickly, before it was too late. But he needed Fraser. Where on earth was he?

  At that very moment, Fraser rounded the corner and joined Ross. 'What kept you?'

  'Morag,'Fraser groaned. 'Damned woman!'

  'Never mind that. Is everything arranged?'

  'Aye, sir. The King's Head at Springfield. The very last village before the border. 'Twill be done the moment we arrive. And there's a secret room behind, for... Well, no need to discuss that. We need only ten or fifteen minutes' start on them and there will be no fear of your being interrupted.'

  Ross nodded. 'I have changed part of the plan.'

  Fraser's eyebrows rose. 'But you said yourself there was no other way. If you—'

  'That was then, Fraser. I did not expect there to be anyone in the church to help me defend Cassie against her brother. But Colonel Anstruther, and several other gentlemen, have arrived. Some ladies, too.' He grinned and pulled at Hera's ear. 'I am sure this fine lady would have relished the chal­lenge of prancing down the aisle of Annan kirk and helping me carry the bride off on my saddle bow, but she will not have the chance, now. I shall go in on foot. There will be a scandal. But nothing to compare with the one I would have caused by riding a horse up to the altar.'

  Fraser nodded, clearly relieved. 'Thank God for that,' he breathed. 'If you had—'

  'Now, Fraser. To business. We have little time. While I go in to rescue Miss Elliott, you must ensure that no one can follow us, at least for a while. The carriage there—' he pointed with his whip '—is Elliott's. You'd best cut the traces. As for the horses belonging to the other guests... Hmm. I don't want to offend Colonel Anstruther or any of the other gentlemen but, equally, I dare not leave any good horse that Elliott might borrow. No. You'd best untie them and take them off down to the river. They'll come to no harm. But it will buy us time.'

  'Very good, sir.' Fraser grinned. It was exactly the sort of task at which he excelled.

  Ross swung down from Hera's saddle. The heels of his boots rang on the cobbles. Throwing the reins to Fraser, he said, 'Wait until I am inside the church before you make a move. I should be a few minutes only, ten at most. Make sure you are waiting at the door with the horses.'

  Fraser frowned a little, as if annoyed to be given orders that he already perfectly understood. Then he looked down into his master's face. What­ever he saw there made him smile reassuringly. 'You can rely on me, Captain. And I know you will bring the mistress off safely.'

  'Thank you, Fraser.' Ross reached up his right hand. They shook, warmly. Not equals, perhaps, but friends and tried comrades.

  By the time Ross reached the church door, it had been closed. He could hear noise from within, but it was impossible to make out precisely what was going on. He took off his hat and tossed it on to the step. He would retrieve it later. If there was time. Then he ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath, pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the rela­tive gloom beyond.

  The congregation was clustered at the front of the church. No one ap­peared to have noticed Ross's entrance. Any noise he had made was covered by the loud, droning voice of the minister. Cassie was directly in front of the minister. Her brother was standing very close by her side and seemed to be whispering in her ear. Threats, probably. To ensure she could not cry off. On Cassie's other side was a small, pot-bellied old man, with a bent back and scrawny legs, displayed in black silk breeches and stockings with enormous clocks. The little man was just reaching for Cassie's hand.

  Ross marched down the aisle, his boots ringing on the flags. Every head turned towards him. Including Cassie's. Her face lit up at the sight of him. He thought she breathed his name. His heart swelled with a surge of love. And longing. She did still love him.

  Mindful of the dangers, Ross stopped a few yards from the minister so that he could keep Elliott and all his servants in view. 'Mr McLean,' he said in a voice worthy of the parade ground, 'this wedding may not go forward. Miss Cassandra Elliott is not free to marry this day. She is betrothed to me.'

  Cassie's brother began to stutter a protest, looking round wildly. He reached into his coat, as if for a weapon, but of course he had none. There were certainly benefits to challenging him in a church.

  'Captain Graham, this is outrageous!' The minister did not intend to be bested at his own altar. 'You know well enough—for I told you yesterday—that Miss Elliot
t herself had agreed to this match.'

  'Under duress, sir. Under duress. If you do not believe me, ask the lady now.'

  Cassie stepped away from her brother and her would-be suitor. She looked first at the minister and then at the gentlemen in the congrega­tion. In a clear, strong voice, she said, 'My brother is trying to force me to wed Mr Robert Munro, who has paid him five thousand pounds for possession of my person.'

  The congregation began to mutter.

  'I repudiate this match, here in front of you all,' Cassie continued, looking straight at Ross, her eyes shining. He stretched out a hand to her. 'I am betrothed to Captain Ross Graham. And as I am of full age, no one here—' she whipped round to stare at her brother '—no one has the right to prevent it.' With a fleeting smile towards the minister and a whispered word of apology for the deception that had been practised on him, she placed her hand in Ross's and was drawn into the shelter of his arm.

  'A moment, my dear,' Ross said. He had to ensure that the danger from James Elliott was removed, for ever. 'Mr McLean, gentlemen, let there be no doubt of what has gone forward here. This man—' he pointed at Cassie's brother, who recoiled from the fury in Ross's eyes '—this man has treated his own sister as if she were a chattel, a mere piece of goods to be sold so that he could pay for his drinking and gambling. And worse. You all know him. You must know I speak the truth. What is more, James Elliott kidnapped his sister from her godfather's home, on the other side of the Solway. And he forced her to agree to this sham of a marriage, by threats.'

  He raised an eyebrow to Cassie, who nodded. 'He promised to leave me to starve to death in my prison if I did not agree,' she said quietly. A collective gasp echoed round the church.

  'So let no man here take Elliott's part. He is an out-and-out scoun­drel. He is not fit to enter the company of gentlemen.'

  Colonel Anstruther, who was looking exceedingly serious, nodded vigorously. He threw a withering look in Elliott's direction. No doubt the colonel would ensure that justice was done.

  Ross squeezed Cassie's hand and, together, they turned from the altar and walked smartly toward the door.