Cat's Cradle

by Julia Golding

  She nodded and dabbed a lace-edged hand kerchief to the corner of one eye.

  ‘We tracked them to your tower house,’ continued the sheriff, ‘then lost them on the moss, so there is no good denying that you had them.’

  I glanced at Rabbie, but he was examining his boots.

  ‘I don’t know what makes you think that my brother or I would have a clue about the lady’s cows. I’m a London girl born and bred and wouldn’t know the front end from the back of one – except to stand well clear of both just in case, if you follow me. What would I want with Lady Ross-Baillie’s cattle?’

  Sir Charles bared his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘I have no idea – that’s for you to tell me. You are a surprise, I admit that, but your so-called brother is less of a mystery. He’s well known in these parts for his reiving – his cousins have been sentenced in absentia many a time.’

  That wasn’t good. I was hoping to do this by casting the cloak of my innocence over my guilty brother, but if he was already condemned that would not work.

  ‘I ken naething about the lady’s cows,’ muttered Rabbie. ‘I’m sorry she’s lost them.’

  ‘Sorry!’ The lady gave a tinkling laugh that reminded me of a chandelier jingling in the wind. ‘That is very kind of you, young man.’ She opened an ivory fan that hung by a silver chain from her belt and waved it before her wrinkled neck. ‘But I would prefer to have my property returned to me rather than hear your regrets. I’ve been in a flutter ever since my headman told me that brigands had raided the home farm. Palpitations. My nerves in shreds. I will not be able to rest until my sweet girls are returned to me.’

  Sweet girls? Those red shaggy monsters from the barn could only be termed so by a very disturbed individual. I narrowed my gaze at the lady, wondering what her game was.

  She turned in wet-eyed appeal to the sheriff. ‘It is not just the theft of my poor creatures – it is the attack on my peace of mind. I have barely slept since dear Sir John left for a better place. This, I fear, will deprive me even of the little rest I have.’

  Oh she was a fine actress, this one. I could sniff out a fellow thespian playing tragic heroine, no problem. The tears were about as genuine as Chatterton’s poems. While I had no time for thieves like the Bruces, I had even less time for rich widows determined to see my brother and me hanged.

  I held up my right hand, ‘Lady Ross-Baillie, Sir Charles, I really must stop you there. This has gone far enough. My friend the Earl of Arden will be amused to hear that you mistook me for a cattle thief, but I fear he may think the joke has been prolonged beyond the bounds of good taste if you do not release my brother and me immediately.’

  ‘Earl of Arden!’ Sir Charles said disdainfully. ‘The ghillie warned you had a talent for invention.’ He kicked the log again, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. ‘He says you are a mill worker – fooled him once but not again.’

  ‘Not invention, sir. I am as I claim – a family friend of the Earl of Arden and his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Avon. I am also a protégée of the famous Mr Sheridan. If you wish to check these claims, you only need write to any one of them for confirmation. Better still, talk to Mr Dale at the mill. He knows something of the reasons for my presence in the area. That way there need be no delay.’

  Swayed by this list of impressive character witnesses, Sir Charles creased his brow in doubt, questioning his initial impression of me. This did not suit Lady Ross-Baillie: she wanted her cows back and all commoners kept in their place, dangling at the end of a noose.

  ‘I cannot abide the girl’s litany of lies, Charles.’ She flapped at me with her handkerchief. ‘I know the duke from my days in London – he’s a fine man. It is beyond the bounds of credulity to think this ragamuffin has anything to do with him, despite her refined talk.

  ‘I’ve no doubt she was some servant in their household and learned to ape her betters. Yes, yes, that explains it. No young lady would behave or dress as she does.’ She dabbed her eyes delicately. ‘But none of this is taking us a step nearer to getting my cows back and punishing the offenders.’ What a performance. Lady Ross-Baillie would make Judge Jeffreys look merciful, but it was all tied up in a bows-and-bonnet package so people didn’t see her ruthless streak.

  Thus reminded of his first loyalty, Sir Charles’s brow cleared and he gave his godmother a little bow. ‘Quite true, your ladyship. I am beginning to suspect the girl is somewhat addle-pated. But we know enough about the boy to proceed to court. I understand we can already charge the girl with trespass, if not cattle thieving. But I have a favour to beg: might I leave them in your charge until the next sitting of the sheriff court?’

  Lady Ross-Baillie did not look overjoyed at this prospect. ‘But Charles, I am not sure I would feel entirely safe with two thieves under my roof. Why not keep them in gaol?’

  Sir Charles gave a gruff laugh. ‘The kindest thing that can be said of the town prison is only those that feel inclined to stay do so. I have told the provost that we need to build a new one as the old is like a Swiss cheese. No, I want at least one Bruce to face justice; I can’t risk the boy absconding. His cousins may be in the area already and would have no trouble breaking him out of the gaol.’

  Lady Ross-Baillie pursed her lips. ‘Very well. I’ll make arrangements to secure them here.’

  ‘And the doctor?’

  She waved the handkerchief. ‘Yes, yes, that too.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady. As ever, you are generosity itself.’ He bent over to kiss her hand.

  I was dismayed by how easily she had swayed him from giving me a hearing. ‘You mean you are not going to ask Mr Dale to verify my story for me?’

  ‘Why waste his time and mine?’ Sir Charles checked his pocket watch, tutting over the hour.

  ‘Because I’m telling the truth. At least let me write to my friends to prove it to you!’

  ‘Oh, very clever. I see your mind: you mean to tell the Bruces to come and save you. Not on my watch, young woman. The Bruces will remain ignorant of your presence here to save Lady Ross-Baillie any trouble. Now, I’ve had quite enough of your talk. I’m a busy man. You should be grateful I have provided for your comfort. After next week, you will look back on this as paradise.’

  Lady Ross-Baillie gave a smug little smile and thumped her walking stick on the floor. The footmen returned on her summons.

  ‘Take the young persons back to their room and make sure they do not leave for any reason,’ she said sharply.

  With a bow, the footmen marched us back upstairs.

  Behind locked doors again, I kicked the stool over and let out a frustrated growl.

  ‘Have you heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?’ I asked.

  Rabbie nodded miserably.

  ‘Well, that’s me. The one time I tell the truth about my noble friends no one believes me!’

  ‘So, ye were no spinnin’ a tale?’

  ‘No, I was not!’ I hit the wall with my good hand, sending a jolt of pain up my left side.

  Rabbie tugged on my skirt. ‘Sit down, Cat, before ye hurt yerself.’

  I slumped on to the bed. ‘We’ve got to get word out of here one way or another. That man has made up his mind about us. He won’t give us a fair trial.’

  ‘Did ye really trespass?’

  ‘I might’ve done.’

  ‘Well, I canna say the sheriff isna fair. I ken what I did.’ Rabbie scrubbed his hands through his hair, making it stick up in brown spikes. ‘But I dinna want to hang.’

  I patted the bed beside me, inviting him to sit. Once in hugging range, I ventured to put my good arm around his shoulders. ‘You won’t. I promise you.’

  ‘At least the most he can do to ye is give ye a fine for trespass.’

  ‘Yes, and if I’m out of here first I’ll come back for you. Sir Charles the dandy won’t know what’s hit him when I bring in my reinforcements.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘Who knows, I might even get the duchess involved – then he’ll really be sorry.’

>   ‘Why would a duchess be interested in the likes of me?’

  ‘Because you’re my brother.’

  He gave a slight nod. ‘That I am. I didn’t want to be, but now I’m glad.’

  I shoved him in the ribs to prevent a dip into maudlin sentiment which would suit neither of us. ‘Just because I’ve got powerful friends?’

  He chuckled. ‘Nae, because ye’re a bagrel lass for me to tease.’

  ‘Bagrel?’

  ‘A bit on the wee side o’ tall.’

  ‘Lout.’

  ‘Skinnymalink.’

  ‘Clumsy oaf.’

  ‘Midget.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s the exchange of pleasantries over. Now all we need is a plan to get us out of here.’

  True to her word, Lady Ross-Baillie allowed the doctor to visit mid-morning. I had not realized when she mentioned his name that I had met him before – it was the same doctor who had signed the death certificate for my poor aunt during the influenza outbreak. A stout party with bushy sideburns, little hair on top and a bulbous nose, he made a reassuring visitor in the sickroom. He was so vividly present with his large frame and booming voice, I felt that any illness would not dare stay when he came in.

  ‘Well, lass, let’s take a look at yer arm,’ he announced with the genteel tones of an Edinburgh-trained man, his accent less broad to my ears than that of the locals. ‘How did ye do that to yerself?’

  ‘Riding accident,’ I explained.

  His eyes lit up with recognition when he heard my voice. ‘The London lass, is it? I remember ye looked after that poor family in Long Row. What in mercy’s name are ye doing locked up for cattle stealing?’

  I was relieved he remembered – that saved me a lot of trouble. ‘It’s all a terrible mistake, sir,’ I explained. ‘But Sir Charles won’t let me appeal to my friends for help. He caught me riding with the Bruces and assumed the worse.’

  Dr Gordon’s eyes flicked to Rabbie.

  ‘Yes, that’s why. Believe it or not, you are looking at my long-lost brother. Our family reunion went a touch off course when we both got arrested.’ Not to mention the kidnapping and general hostility from the first meeting.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ His large hands felt warm on my skin as he gently felt the breakage. ‘This appears to be as well as can be expected. I’ll leave ye some laudanum for the pain. Keep it strapped up and in a few weeks it will be as good as new. It isna a serious break.’ He tipped his head to Rabbie. ‘Yer brother, ye say?’

  ‘Yes. It took me a while to find him but that’s my brother.’

  The doctor began packing his equipment away. ‘And ye need to contact yer friends?’

  ‘Yes, sir. The dominie in the mill school and Mr Dale can vouch for me. I’m no thief.’

  ‘But yer brother –’

  ‘– Is only twelve,’ I stated firmly. ‘If we get out of here, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble again.’ I shot a look at Rabbie, who was listening carefully to our exchange. ‘I promise.’

  ‘I need no one else to vouch for ye, lass. Ye showed yer kind heart nursing that family. Who do ye want me to speak to?’

  Yes! My spirit did a little victory caper. Here come the cavalry, Sir Charles – you’d better take cover!

  ‘Bridgit O’Riley. She will probably be staying with Mistress MacDonald.’

  ‘Aye, I ken the lady. I’ll call in on my way home. Good day to ye.’

  When he left, I let out a whoop of joy. Rabbie looked at me as if I had cracked.

  ‘What’s got into ye, ye daftie?’

  I threw one arm wide. ‘Rejoice with me, Rabbie the Bruce – we are going to beat the sheriff. The merry men are coming!’

  ‘What are ye blethering about?’ He couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘Just you wait and see.’

  The week of incarceration passed almost pleasantly, apart from the inevitable niggles of being in close quarters with someone for too long. I’d wished for a chance to get to know my brother and now we had nothing else to do but talk and amuse ourselves. In addition to his life history, I discovered that he could cheat at cards (thanks to a pack begged off the hook-nosed footman), couldn’t carry a tune and had smelly feet. I found the last point rather comforting as I felt it was exactly the kind of thing one should know about one’s brother. He heard the tales of my travels, admired my singing, told me I was useless at vingt-et-un and laughed at my attempts to persuade him that ballet was a superior form of dance. After he almost split his sides when I performed one-armed my piece from the Paris Opera, I admitted grumpily that you had to be there to understand.*

  The day of the court hearing finally arrived. As we prepared for our appearance, I wished I had some clean clothes to make a decent impression. I’d been washing out our clothes piece by piece with the soap and water we were allowed, but still we could do with a good bath and complete change. After protesting at my fussy ways, Rabbie had submitted to me removing a layer or two of grime from his person. I told myself that he secretly approved and was just objecting as a point of honour. On the other hand, perhaps I had worn him down so that he had decided giving in was preferable to the torment of my nagging.

  We were taken in a closed carriage to the courthouse in Lanark, the sheriff doubtless fearing that we would slip away otherwise. Rabbie had been shackled, but in deference to my injury and lesser charge, I was left free.

  ‘Ye are certain yer friends will be there?’ Rabbie kept asking, nibbling on a hangnail.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ I replied.

  ‘How can ye be so very sure?’

  ‘You’ll find that out when you meet them. You couldn’t ask for better, more loyal friends. We’ve been through so much together.’

  I kept from him my worry that just perhaps Dr Gordon had failed to find Bridgit. But no, I wouldn’t go down that path. If the doctor had let us down, my brother might find himself facing a trial for his life and I’d promised him that wouldn’t happen. I had to have faith.

  We were taken round the back of the grey stone courthouse and led into a cheerless room to wait. I could hear a murmur of voices from the front of the building and wondered if it was market day. Intrigued by the unexpectedly lively atmosphere, I asked the man left behind to guard us what the cause was.

  ‘They’ve come to see a Bruce finally get what’s coming to him,’ he replied, giving Rabbie an unfriendly grin. ‘Long overdue to my mind.’

  I seethed. The jolterhead.

  Swallowing my anger but promising myself we’d get even, I turned my back on our guard and cudgelled my brains to think through the new problem. I had not considered what the locals might make of our trial. It would put a dent in my plans for a triumphant acquittal if the sheriff felt he had to bow to public pressure for justice. But how to make an obviously guilty boy come out smelling of roses?

  ‘The court is ready for ye now,’ announced an usher, appearing at the door. He escorted us to a door leading to a set of wooden steps. My stomach twisted with a feeling uncannily like stage fright. Rabbie grappled for my hand and held on tightly. I took a steadying breath.

  ‘It will be all right, you’ll see,’ I reassured him.

  We climbed the short flight of stairs and emerged out into the dock in the courtroom itself. A buzz of excitement hummed around the chamber on our appearance, drowning out individual voices. With our backs to the public gallery, all I could see at first was the sheriff sitting in his raised chair and a flock of black-clad officials flapping round the court like scavenger crows on a battlefield. I twisted to look behind but two attendants flanked us, hemming me in. Had I misjudged things so badly? Perhaps my friends had not had time to come – the message had gone astray – they’d been powerless to intervene. The possibilities flashed through my mind. I’d become used to relying on my adopted family of Syd and Frank; maybe this was one time when they would not be able to help me out of the fix in which I found myself.

  A court official began to read through the preliminaries,
asking us to confirm our names and relationship.

  ‘Ye claim that ye are Rabbie Bruce’s half-sister?’ one of the crows asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. We had the same mother.’

  ‘But ye were born out of wedlock?’

  I hadn’t anticipated this. Knowing how sensitive Rabbie was about our mother’s good name, he now had to listen to it being dragged through the mud before the citizens of Lanark. He squeezed my hand a bit too tight for comfort, but I had no recourse but to tell the truth. At least I could make it clear that my brother had no such stain on his name.

  ‘Yes, sir. I was born before she married Rabbie’s father.’

  ‘And how do ye ken this?’

  ‘I was told the facts recently by my aunt, Mrs Mary Moir of Long Row, New Lanark.’

  ‘Mrs Moir being the sister of your mother?’

  ‘That is the usual requirement for an aunt, I believe.’

  There was a titter of laughter from the gallery. I was growing quietly more and more frantic. Surely if my friends were here by now they would have let me know their presence?

  ‘So ye are related to the Bruces by the marriage of your mother?’ the crow continued.

  I frowned. I’d not thought of it that way. ‘I suppose you could say that.’

  ‘So your testimony on behalf of yer brother is likely to be prejudiced?’

  Of course it was.

  ‘No!’ I lied.

  The crow turned to the sheriff. ‘The matter before the court is simple, yer honour. Rabbie Bruce is charged with involvement in the theft of twenty head of cattle from the farm of Lady Ross-Baillie. His sister is charged with being an accessory to the crime and trespass on the same Lady Ross-Baillie’s land, no doubt for the purpose of scouting the lie of the land in advance of the actual theft.’

  ‘What? That’s a fib!’ I couldn’t believe it! They’d twisted my most innocent actions to fit their idea of what a Bruce would be up to.

  Sir Charles gave me a reproving stare. ‘Contain yourself, Miss Royal, or I will have you removed from the courtroom.’