Dawn on a Distant Shore

by Sara Donati

  “Easy,” he said. “Let me take care of this.” He drew his pistol.

  “Walter Campbell!” called a man’s voice, harsh and imperious. “Show yourself!”

  Elizabeth’s head snapped sharply in that direction. “Highwaymen, indeed,” she said, incensed and relieved all at once. “Do you not recognize Will Spencer’s voice? What can this mean?”

  Nathaniel threw open the door with a grin. “It means the Campbells were dead wrong to think they had us fooled.”

  Elizabeth was still struggling with her open bodice when Nathaniel stepped out of the coach, but she heard the reunion well enough. A moment of silence and then voices raised, all of them talking at once, and through it all Robbie’s roar, so loud that the horses reared and the coach jerked again. “Christ save me, Nathaniel!”

  Isabel stirred slowly. Her face contorted, confusion and pain both. Elizabeth’s surprise and elation at this unexpected reunion was replaced by concern for her.

  “What is it?”

  Elizabeth put a hand to her brow—her fever was high again, and her hair damp with perspiration. There was a jug of water, and she quickly poured some, her hands trembling so terribly that she almost dropped both jug and cup. Daniel fussed on the bench, furious at being abandoned.

  “Drink this,” she said. “And sleep. There is nothing to fear, it is just my father-in-law, come to intercept us.”

  Isabel struggled up, turning toward the men’s voices. Then she closed her eyes and laid her head back again. “Waiting on the road to Edinburgh. Breadalbane underestimated them.” And then: “How much farther?”

  “Perhaps an hour,” said Elizabeth. “We will not delay.”

  “Elizabeth?” Nathaniel calling for her.

  Isabel put a hand on Elizabeth’s wrist.

  “Did Flora tell ye aboot the passage Walter is arrangin’ for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aye, I thoucht she wad tell ye. She has a guid heart,” said Isabel. “When the time comes, will ye send word tae her, and tell her … tell her tae be strong. Will ye do that?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I will.”

  Elizabeth delivered Daniel—still howling his indignation—into his grandfather’s arms. Eyes pooling with tears, the boy blinked, sniffed, and then smiled broadly.

  “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Hawkeye lifted him up at arm’s length and the two of them studied each other intently.

  Hawkeye was sun-browned and leaner, but the serene self-assuredness that was his hallmark was still there. When he put his hand on her shoulder some of that quiet energy seemed to flow into Elizabeth, and for a moment her knees went soft with gratitude and elation and simple comfort to have these men near again.

  She patted Robbie’s arm compulsively and he patted her back, blushing and smiling in his pleasure.

  “Mrs. Bonner!” The driver called to her. He held his whip raised over the horses and a desperate expression on his face, ready to bolt.

  “MacArthur,” she said, in a calm tone she knew he would recognize. “There is no cause for alarm. Lady Isabel is in no danger. These are friends, although I realize they gave you a shock. We will continue on our way in just a few moments.”

  The large jaw worked convulsively as he tried to take this in. Then he sat again, his whip across his lap.

  “And here we thoucht we’d have tae storm Carryckcastle tae see ye again,” Robbie repeated for the third time. “What are ye doin’ here, and how come ye doon the road in a coach bearing the arms o’ the Countess o’ Loudoun?”

  “What are we doing here?” Nathaniel laughed.

  “Indeed,” said Elizabeth. “We might ask you the same thing. You most especially, William Spencer.”

  “He came to rescue you from the Jackdaw, but he had to be satisfied with two old men instead,” said Hawkeye, tucking Daniel into the crook of his arm just as Daniel tucked his thumb into his own mouth.

  “Is that so?” Elizabeth slipped an arm through his. “This is a William Spencer I am unfamiliar with.”

  Will was not to be ruffled. “Elizabeth,” he said calmly. “You did not really believe that once Runs-from-Bears told me of the kidnapping, I’d sit in Québec and wait for word of your fate?”

  It was Will’s voice and manner of expression, but otherwise Elizabeth hardly recognized her cousin. Gone were the elegant coats and silk stockings; he stood before her in a rough linen shirt and homespun breeches with a dark cape flung back over his shoulders, his hair shorn close to the scalp. He too was leaner, almost wiry now, and when he smiled he revealed the loss of an eye-tooth, giving him a decidedly disreputable look.

  “I didn’t think you’d come racing after me,” she said.

  An oxcart piled with manure and buzzing with flies came around the corner and slowed as the farmer gaped, openmouthed, at the strangers gathered in the road.

  “This ain’t the right place for a discussion,” said Hawkeye.

  “True enough,” said Nathaniel. “But there’s things to clear up before we get to Carryckcastle.”

  “And Lady Isabel is in great distress,” Elizabeth added. “We can delay no longer.”

  The men exchanged glances, and then Will Spencer spoke to Nathaniel. “You take my horse, and I will ride in the coach with the ladies. That way we can exchange news as we go along. Do you think that will be acceptable to Lady Isabel, Elizabeth?”

  “I think she is insensible of most everything at the moment,” Elizabeth said. “But give me a moment to make her ready.”

  “So it was Christian Fane,” Elizabeth said later, when her cousin had related the events of the last month: how Will had crossed paths with his old friend in Halifax when he had been desperately seeking a ship and captain willing to pursue the Jackdaw. The way they had come upon Mac Stoker just as they had caught sight of the fleet on its way to engage the French. The damage done to the Jackdaw, and Stoker’s pride. Will’s disappointment to find that Elizabeth and Nathaniel were not on board at all, but on the Isis, a much more formidable foe.

  “Fane was eager to be of help,” said Will. “As always, very glad of a chance to be of service to you. Once we learned from Hawkeye and Robbie that you were on the Isis, he wanted to set off in pursuit—” He paused, and glanced at Lady Isabel.

  Elizabeth had arranged her veils around her face to spare her embarrassment, and her breathing—still shallow—caused the fine white netting to flutter fitfully. She seemed still undisturbed by their conversation, and Will continued.

  “But the admiral got sight of us and there was no help for it, we were ordered straight into battle,” Will concluded. “It was a most ill-timed and unfortunate diversion.”

  “A diversion,” Elizabeth said dryly. “To have put yourself in such danger—”

  “You run the risk of offending me, cousin. Do you think I was not equal to the challenge? I admit I did not acquit myself in battle as well as your father-in-law and Robbie did. Fane would have liked to commission them on the spot. I myself caught a piece of shell—”

  He turned his head to show her a healing wound on the back of his scalp. “It cost me my hair, as you see, but I find I quite like being shorn like a sheep. Amanda does not mind terribly.”

  “Amanda,” said Elizabeth. “Where is she?”

  “With her mother in Edinburgh,” said Will. “Waiting for you, and very impatiently, I must say. They are greatly worried. Can you tell me what lies ahead for us at Carryckcastle? How difficult will it be?”

  Daniel was sitting on Will’s lap, examining the ties on his shirt with great interest and gumming them when he managed to get one into his mouth. Elizabeth watched for a moment while she gathered her thoughts.

  “I suppose I must begin the story in Canada, with Monsieur Dupuis,” she said, checking once again on Lady Isabel. “It begins with him, and I think it may end with him, as well.”

  Hannah and Jennet climbed the oak in the fairy wood with their pockets full of bread and cheese and pears from the conservatory, blush-pi
nk and still warm from the sun.

  “Ye’re verra quiet the-day,” Jennet said, contemplating Hannah’s profile. “Can ye no’ tell me what’s the matter? Is it the story my granny tolt ye, or are ye still thinkin’ aboot Dame Sanderson?”

  Hannah bit into her pear and wiped the juice from her chin with her palm. “I dreamed about her last night.”

  It was not the whole truth, but it would have to suffice for now.

  “This morning when I went doon tae kirk I heard that she killed three dogs yesterday at the baitin’, wi’ nary a scratch on her.”

  This was no comfort at all, but Hannah did not like to distress Jennet about something she could not help, and so she changed the subject. “The French ladies left while you were gone,” she said.

  “Awa’ tae find the young one a husband,” agreed Jennet. “Perhaps she’ll ha’ better luck in Edinburgh.”

  “Monsieur Contrecoeur stayed behind.” It was not a question, but Jennet understood it as one. She tucked a bit of bread into her cheek like a squirrel, chewing thoughtfully.

  “He’ll stay until Faither Dupuis passes ower,” she said. “Perhaps longer—the earl doesna like tae be wi’oot a priest.”

  Now that they could talk openly about this—Hannah was relieved to be able to ask the questions that most bothered her—she hardly knew where to start. She said, “How many of you are there? Catholics, I mean.”

  “No’ sae many. The Hopes, Laidlaws—my mither’s folk, ye ken—alang wi’ the MacQuiddys, the Ballentynes, and the rest o’ the earl’s men. And Gelleys, o’ course.”

  “But you go to kirk anyway with the Protestants?”

  Jennet looked at her as if she were soft in the head. “O’ course. We must live in the world as Presbyterians, for there’s nae place in Scotland for Catholics these days. We aa attend kirk, even the earl. Granny says it taxes the brain but it does the soul nae harm tae listen tae Holy Willie. Do ye miss goin’ tae Mass since ye’re here?”

  “To Mass?”

  Her confusion seemed to irritate Jennet. “Ye’re baptized Catholic, and that by a Jesuit, were ye no’?”

  Hannah had been baptized, it was true, as were many of the Kahnyen’kehàka at Good Pasture. Some had let the priests have their way out of curiosity, some because they did not want to offend them. But Jennet seemed to think that the baptism brought some kind of change with it, when Hannah knew that just the opposite was true among her mother’s people. They might listen with interest to the stories of Jesus, but that did not stop them from praying to Ha-wen-ne’-yu or performing the six thanksgiving rites that divided the seasons. The two had nothing to do with one another.

  “I am baptized, but I am not Catholic,” Hannah said firmly.

  Jennet snorted through her nose. “The Protestants wadna agree wi’ ye.”

  And of course this was true. Mr. MacKay rose before her mind’s eye, sputtering his disgust and delighted with the proposition of her burning in hell for all eternity. Papists among the savages. She did not like to think of him, especially now with her father and Elizabeth secretly away in Moffat.

  “A rider,” said Jennet, her face transforming instantly into high curiosity. She stood, one arm slung around the trunk of the tree, to get a better view.

  “‘Nezer Lun,” she said, looking troubled now. “I’ve nivver seen the man move sae fast.”

  The horse and rider had already disappeared into the courtyard by the time the girls had managed to scramble down the oak, and now they could hear more horses coming at a gallop. Inside the courtyard men were shouting for the earl.

  The riders appeared, three of them, and drew up their mounts just outside the gate.

  “An attack,” whispered Jennet, suddenly very pale. And then, to Hannah’s back as she ran off: “Wait! Ye canna!”

  Hannah whirled, and threw out her arms. “But I can, I must. It’s my grandfather and Robbie, and my father, too—” And she was away, with Jennet close behind.

  Nathaniel watched the earl stride down the courtyard toward the gate, his men a solid wall at his back. He wondered what was in his father’s head right now, to see Carryck for the first time. To see the line of his own brow, the set of his jaw, the very shape of his own shoulders in a stranger, and to know now what he had been told was true: this man was his first cousin, and his own father had been born to this land.

  When the earl stood before them, Hawkeye raised his voice, hard and sure. “Dan’l Bonner of New-York State. I’m here to claim the rest of my family. My two granddaughters, and Curiosity Freeman. Send them out to me here.”

  In the full force of the late afternoon sun Carryck looked drawn and older than his years, a yellowish cast to his skin. But his voice was strong and unwavering.

  “You are welcome tae Carryckcastle, Daniel Bonner. I would like tae speak wi’ ye, in private. Will ye no’ come in and drink wi’ me?”

  For a long moment they watched each other, two old lions each in his full power and strength, neither willing to concede to the other.

  “I will,” said Hawkeye finally. “If you agree to call your man Moncrieff to account for the wrongs he has committed against me and mine. If you agree to let us pass when we decide it’s time to go.”

  Beside Nathaniel, Robbie shifted in his saddle, still scanning the crowd of men in the courtyard for some sign of Moncrieff, and finding none. Then Hannah came up to him, and he leaned down to put a hand on her head.

  The earl spoke over his shoulder. “Dagleish,” he said. “Fetch Moncrieff here. Dinna tell him why. And take twa men wi’ ye in case he should resist.”

  He raised his voice again. “My men will fetch Moncrieff fra’ the village, and ye can call him tae account in front o’ this company. Ye are free tae leave whenever ye like. Now, will ye accept my hospitality?”

  “If it’s meant for all of us, aye. Us and the others, who come after.”

  Carryck’s eyes scanned their faces, and came to rest on Nathaniel, calculating how he had come to be there, weighing his options. “I see ye’ve been awa’,” he said dryly.

  “I have,” Nathaniel agreed. “Away and back again, to claim what is mine.”

  “Ye’re mair Scott than ye’ll ever ken,” said Carryck. And then to Hawkeye: “Aa o’ yer party are welcome. I will hear your complaints against my factor, and should punishment be warranted, punishment will be dispensed.”

  The sound of the carriage was louder now. The men behind Carryck began to look at each other, touching their weapons in that way that soldiers have, as automatically as they breathed.

  One approached Carryck, and he spoke to them all. “Leave me.”

  They went unwillingly, murmuring among themselves. Now Nathaniel caught sight of Jean Hope and old MacQuiddy at the rear of the courtyard and in the window above them, Curiosity with Lily on her hip. Robbie had dismounted, and he crouched down next to Hannah, the two of them deep in conversation.

  Later Nathaniel would tell Elizabeth that he had heard the story of Lot’s wife more than once, but it wasn’t until Carryck caught sight of the Loudoun coat of arms on the coach that he knew what it meant to see a living being turn to stone. His face went as glassy smooth as rock salt, and when he looked up at Hawkeye his eyes were dead.

  “My daughter-in-law,” Hawkeye said. “And your daughter, come home to die. But first she has her own charges against Moncrieff.”

  Jean Hope came forward, her hands pressed to her heart and on her face an expression Nathaniel had seen once before, the morning Sarah had gained a daughter and lost a son: a woman torn in half between joy and sorrow. He spoke to her gently.

  “She’s asked for the priest. Will you take her to him?”

  This unexpected appearance of his daughter had turned Carryck to stone, but all the bones seemed to flow out of Jean Hope, her body curving forward. She started toward the coach and then stopped, looked to Carryck for something, some sign, but got none.

  Robbie went to the coach as the door opened. Ever since he had heard the s
tory of Moncrieff’s crimes against Carryck’s daughter he had been unusually still and closed within himself; it was as if this final evidence of Moncrieff’s malice had broken some last faith in him, and now he took it on as his own duty to offer Lady Isabel whatever comfort he could.

  When he turned around again, he held her in his arms as carefully and lovingly as he would hold an infant. She had lost a shoe and one small foot swung free in its white stocking, as fine and frail as a child’s. Her hands lay among the netting that covered her face and fell down to her waist, discolored and swollen as a man’s fists after a hard fight.

  For a moment Robbie stood there looking at Carryck over Isabel’s still form—Nathaniel could not even be sure she was breathing—and then he walked past the man without a word.

  He stopped before Jean Hope and she placed her hands on Isabel, touching her lightly here and there. And then she turned and led Robbie toward Elphinstone Tower. MacQuiddy fell in behind them, and from a shadowy corner Jennet came running, too, with one backward glance toward Carryck.

  They gathered in the Great Hall: the earl at the head of a long table under the carved and gilded coat of arms, Nathaniel and Hawkeye to either side of him, and next to them Elizabeth and Curiosity, each with a baby in her lap. Will sat beside Elizabeth. Hannah would not stay in her chair, but flitted between the men as if she was afraid they might disappear again if she were to sit down or look away.

  Hawkeye asked her a question in Mahican and she answered it in Kahnyen’kehàka, and asked him a question in turn. Nathaniel was listening too but he did not interrupt, and Elizabeth had the sense that he had heard what he needed to know on the journey here. From the look on Robbie’s face when he had taken Isabel in his arms, Nathaniel had told them her story, too.

  Carryck poured whisky. Whatever he had wanted to say to Hawkeye, whatever arguments about family and duty and blood ties and the land—all seemed to have deserted him. He stared in turn at the door that led to Elphinstone Tower and the window into the courtyard.