A Turn of Cards (Lowland Romance Book 3)

by Helen Susan Swift

  'I'm sure you are a fine doctor,' Macfarlane said. 'But this sort of thing takes different skills.'

  'I'll come along too,' the doctor repeated.

  I heard the determination in Doctor Hetherington's voice. 'You are a constant surprise, Mungo,' I said.

  He smiled over at me, and I saw his eyes slide down to my hips and away again. I hoped I would not prove too much of a distraction for the good doctor, and shook my head. Let the poor man get what enjoyment he could from my state of dress; he deserved it.

  A bright moon glossed the landscape as we crossed over the footbridge and into the policies of Tynebridge Hall.

  'Here we are again,' I said to myself. 'Back here.' The trees seemed to be waiting for me, their boughs like arms, the knots in the bark like watchful eyes and their bulk like giants from folklore. All it needed was a howling wolf. I shook my head and started as a fox barked in the distance, the sound eerie in the dark.

  'You say there are no resident servants,' Macfarlane broke into my sombre thoughts. 'That is good. Resident servants are careful while temporary servants are careless. They might leave a window open.'

  'And if they don't?' Doctor Hetherington sounded nervous.

  'You'll see.' Macfarlane touched the bag he wore across his shoulders.

  More in hope than expectation, I brought them to the back door of the Hall. It was locked. Macfarlane pushed hard and pointed to the places of most resistance. 'It's bolted at the top, bottom and middle,' he said. 'We won't get in that way.'

  We toured the house, searching for a suitable window with my frustration growing by the minute. 'Maybe we can't get in.'

  'Calm yourself, Miss Flockhart,' Macfarlane touched my arm. 'Leave it to us.' He looked up as clouds obscured the moon. 'That's better; now we're harder to see.' Delving into the bag he wore at his waist, he produced a lantern and scratched a spark from a tinder-box. I saw that the lantern's lens was blackened, so only a thin beam of light shone out.

  'All the lower windows are barred,' Doctor Hetherington sounded disappointed.

  'It keeps the blackguards out,' I said, 'and the servants in.' I looked upward, contemplating climbing the sheer walls and was glad I wore breeches and not a trailing skirt. Honestly, life is so much easier for male than female house-breakers.

  'We'll use this one,' Macfarlane stopped at a window. 'It's at an angle, nothing overlooks it, and it's quiet.'

  'How about the bars?' Doctor Hetherington asked.

  'Watch,' Macfarlane said. 'We'll take care of them.' Taking a length of thin rope from his bag, he coiled it around the two central bars, placed a short metal rod through the loop and began to twist. Within a few moments, the pressure made the bars creak against the surrounding mortar.

  'Quiet now,' I hissed.

  We all stopped when we saw light gleaming in a window on the next storey up. Macfarlane pushed us against the wall. There was the murmur of voices and a single laugh. The light flickered and vanished.

  'Whenever you're ready,' I said.

  Macfarlane nodded and continued until the iron bars shifted. 'That should do it.' Taking told of the bars, he began to pull them this way and that, loosening them further until he yanked one completely free.

  'One.' MacGregor said and grabbed the next.

  Within a few moments, a second bar joined the first.

  'Two,' MacGregor said.

  'Is that space enough?' Macfarlane tried to squeeze between the bars. 'No, we need another.' Looping the cord around another two bars, he repeated the original procedure and widened the gap as I watched. 'Right; that's us.' He placed the bars carefully on the ground.

  'You've done this before,' I said.

  Macfarlane grinned. 'Perhaps. Now there's just the window itself.' Taking a long dirk from under his arm, he scraped away the putty from the bottom window pane and eased away the glass. 'That was easy enough. The putty was brittle with age.'

  'How easy it is when you know how,' Mungo said.

  'We're nearly in.' Thrusting his hand through the hole, Macfarlane opened the catch and pushed up the lower half of the window.

  'In we go,' Macfarlane entered first with the rest of us following. As soon as we were all in, MacGregor leaned outside and balanced the iron bars in place, then slotted a sheet of black paper where the pane of glass was missing. 'That might fool a casual observer,' he said.

  I looked around. We were in the servant's store, a small room with bare floorboards and shelves on three walls.

  'You're in charge now, Miss Flockhart,' Macfarlane said. 'Take us to your friend.'

  I knew the interior of Tynebridge Hall as well as anyone did, in the light or the dark, so I led the way with perfect confidence. Twice I stopped as I heard voices ahead and once I pulled everyone into the shadows as footsteps echoed and a man stumbled from a room. I did not recognise him and wondered how many strangers there were infesting this house.

  Walking in front, with Macfarlane's thin beam of light guiding us, I was aware of the breeches around my legs. I found myself hoping that Mungo was watching and wondered what made me think that at this time. I glanced over my shoulder, caught Mungo's gaze, realised I did not care and emphasised the swing of my hips.

  Go on then, Mungo. That's for you. I'm a woman, remember, not just a patient. Something had altered in me. Perhaps it was because I had finally acknowledged my experiences that night a decade ago or maybe because I was finally fighting back. And then we were climbing the stairs with Macfarlane's light bouncing ahead, the shadows receding and our steps brittle as the beat of my heart.

  No lamps were burning in the topmost corridor, nothing except stygian darkness and a single wavering bar of light under one of the doors.

  'That one,' I whispered and padded along the floorboards with my heart hammering and the darkness pressing down upon me. I tapped on the door. 'Marie?'

  There was no reply. The door was locked.

  'Marie?'

  'Let me,' Macfarlane bent down and held his lantern to the lock. 'There's no key,' he said. 'I'll have to force it.'

  I looked around; the darkness seemed to crowd around, watching us, hiding the evil. 'Hurry,' I said. 'And don't make any noise.' I had a dread of waking the house and having McAra and his friends discover us here. Whatever terrible things they were doing, we were also in the wrong; we had broken into the house and could be transported or possibly even hanged.

  'MacGregor!' After a brief confabulation in Gaelic, the two Highlanders pressed against the door. I saw them strain, and then it burst open with a hideous noise. My Highlanders staggered inside the room, with MacGregor mouthing what I took to be Gaelic oaths.

  'You'll wake the house!' Mungo said.

  'Oh, dear God!' I stepped forward.

  There was a short scream, instantly stifled as Macfarlane threw himself on a bed and put his huge hand over the occupant's mouth.

  'Hush now! We've come to save you!'

  I rushed in with Mungo at my back. He closed the door. A single guttering candle provided light, with all four of us crowding the room and a young girl staring at us with wide, terrified eyes.

  Macfarlane looked at me in triumph. 'You were right, Miss Flockhart!'

  I shook my head. 'No, I was not. That's not Marie!'

  The girl on the bed could not have been more than sixteen, with a tangle of brown hair above a soft face and eyes puffy and red from crying.

  'Who are you?' I asked, 'and where is Marie?'

  Macfarlane removed his hand, and the girl immediately started to scream, which was not surprising, being wakened up in the wee small hours by a deluge of strangers.

  Macfarlane quickly replaced his hand over her mouth. 'She's tied in.'

  I saw the cords around the girl's ankles and wrists.

  'What do you want us to do?' MacGregor asked me the question.

  I had to make a quick decision. 'Oh, Dear God, I don't know.' I had expected to release a grateful Marie, not find a young stranger. Momentarily at a loss, I stared at Mungo.
'What shall we do?'

  'Ask her,' Mungo was as sensible as ever. He knelt beside the girl and spoke in his calm bedside manner. 'Are you a prisoner here?'

  The girl nodded, still terrified.

  'Do you wish to be released?' It seemed a foolish question.

  The girl nodded rapidly.

  'Keep quiet then,' Macfarlane sliced her free.

  The girl was shaking, staring at us. Reaching over, Mungo held her, making soothing sounds.

  'We're friends,' I said. 'Are there any more prisoners here?'

  She nodded. 'Yes.'

  'Where?'

  'I don't know.' She was sobbing.

  'Have you seen a tall, auburn-haired woman of about twenty?' I asked.

  'I don't know,' the girl shook her head.

  'She's too scared to think,' Mungo said. 'It's all right, my dear. You're safe now.' He looked up at me. 'You won't get anything from her, Dorothea.'

  'We'll try the other guest bedrooms,' I said.

  'How about this young lassie?' Macfarlane sounded concerned.

  'Bring her with us.' Mungo made the decision. 'We're not leaving her here.'

  We moved along the corridor, opening the doors and peering in. Most were not locked, and the rooms were empty and in darkness. There were no other prisoners and no sign of Marie. I took a deep breath, unsure what to do next. I had been sure that Marie was up here.

  'Listen,' Macfarlane took hold of my arm. 'Somebody is coming.'

  We slipped into the nearest room as footsteps sounded. They were regular and heavy, the steps of a man. He was singing Arthur McBride:

  'So gaily and gallant we went on our tramp

  And we met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Cramp

  And the little wee drummer who roused up the camp

  With his row-de-dow-dow in the morning.'

  Macfarlane clamped his hands over the girl's mouth as she began to make small whining noises. The footsteps hesitated and then continued, fading away as the man passed. The words of the song remained, so cheerful in this house of woe.

  'Well now my fine fellows, if you will enlist,

  A guinea in gold I will slap in your first,

  And a crown in the bargain to kick up the dust

  And drink the King's health in the morning.'

  'Best we leave now,' MacGregor said.

  'We have not found Marie yet,' I shook my head. 'I'm not leaving without her.'

  'Dawn is not far away,' MacGregor said. 'Any servants will be up soon and then getting away from here will be much more difficult.'

  'I'm not leaving without Marie,' I insisted.

  'You'll get us all hanged,' MacGregor spoke with the voice of experience.

  'You go,' I said. 'Take the girl to the doctor's house and look after her. I'll stay here. It is much easier for one person to hide than five.' I lowered my voice. 'I know this house.'

  'You two take the girl,' Mungo backed me up. 'I will stay here with Miss Flockhart.'

  While I blessed his loyalty, I had no intention of putting the doctor in any more danger. 'I'll be better alone.'

  'I'm staying with you.'

  Suddenly I knew that I wanted the company of this ugly, stubborn man. 'Thank you.'

  'You two look after the girl,' Mungo said. 'Put her straight to bed and no…'

  'We'll keep her safe,' Macfarlane held the doctor's gaze. 'We've both got daughters older than her; we know what to do with children.'

  'Thank you, Macfarlane,' I touched his arm.

  Mungo gave last-minute advice to Macfarlane, and then we waited until the Highlanders had taken the girl away. 'We'll take each room in the house,' I said, 'until we find Marie. Once McAra discovers that wee girl is missing he'll search everywhere for her.'

  'Is there anywhere safe we can hide?' Mungo asked.

  'I know this house well,' I said. 'All the nooks and crannies. McAra has been here a couple of weeks if that.'

  Mungo looked at me. 'You are a quiz,' he said, without probing further. We stopped at the renewed sound of singing.

  'If we were such fools as to take your advance,

  It's right bloody slender would be our poor chance

  For the King wouldn't scruple to send us to France

  And get us all shot in the morning.'

  'That man is drunk as half a dozen lords,' Mungo said.

  'As long as he stays away from us.' Us. It is such a well-used word with such hidden meanings. 'Come on, Doctor.' I could not face the thoughts that filled my head. I could not tell even Mungo all the truth, and until I did, we were never a complete us, and our friendship was a sham on my part.

  As the dawn light strengthened and the birds awoke, I led poor Mungo from room to room, searching for Marie. We did not find her. My frustration increased with every minute.

  'They might have taken her somewhere else,' Mungo said, 'somewhere outside Tynebridge Hall.'

  'I know that,' I snapped. 'And if Marie is still here I would hate to leave her behind. Go if you wish.'

  'I do not wish,' Mungo said.

  We searched the top floor first, touring each room, probing into beds and cupboards and finding nothing. Each time we heard footsteps or the murmur of a voice we slid into a dark corner and hushed ourselves into silence. Despite the anxiety, there was a thrill of excitement in hiding together, and I found myself anticipating the next scare and the slight touch of Mungo's hand on my arm, or the inadvertent brush of his leg against mine.

  'Downstairs now,' Mungo said. 'There's nothing else up here.'

  'Not yet; there's still the attic.' I thought of the dark, dingy space under the eaves and wondered if McAra had stuffed Marie up there with the mice and cobwebs.

  'How do we get up?' Doctor Hetherington did not question my choice.

  'There's a ladder in the north-western wing.' I remembered the wooden steps that ascended to the chilly dark.

  'You do know this place well,' the doctor commented without enquiring more.

  I led the way, listening for McAra and his cohorts. The ladder was as I remembered it, if slightly more dilapidated. Bare patches of wood showed through the varnish. 'I'll go first.'

  I had never been scared of heights, and besides, if I was first, Mungo could admire that part of me that was immediately in his line of vision. I hoped to rescue Marie, but other sensations were creeping in as I bent forward slightly more than was necessary and emphasised my curves. The bolt of the attic hatch was stiff, and I needed Mungo's help to push it open, which necessitated the two of us balancing on the same rungs of the ladder and pressing close together. I did not object and, seemingly, neither did he.

  The sound of the withdrawing bolt seemed to echo around that wing of the house, and we scrambled up the final few rungs and into the attic before somebody came to investigate.

  'Come on Dorothea!' Mungo led the way and hauled me up.

  'How far does this attic extend?' Doctor Hetherington peered into the darkness.

  'The full breadth of the house,' I said.

  'I wish we had brought a candle.'

  I agreed. The darkness in the attic was oppressive. We waited for a few moments and then moved cautiously, feeling for the beams and careful not to put our weight on the lathe and plaster that was all that separated us from the rooms below. Even then I was grateful for the freedom that breeches offered compared to the constrictions of a long skirt.

  'Marie is not up here,' I decided after fifteen minutes of muscle-cramping effort.

  'I think you are correct.' Doctor Hetherington grabbed my arm. 'Listen!'

  I listened. The sound of voices was quite distinct, the well-modulated tones of educated men punctuated by an occasional high pitched laugh. 'They are right beneath us,' I said.

  One man was still singing Arthur McBride, the words clear:

  'How now you young blackguards, if you say one more word

  I swear by the errins I'll draw out my sword

  And run through your bodies as my strength may afford

 
So now, you young buggers, take warning.'

  Pinpricks of light permeated flaws in the plasterwork, with one steady glow filtering upwards.

  We stopped, balancing on the beams, and l heard the words ghosting up from below.

  'Did you hear a noise just now?' The speaker had the lazy drawl of one of the Lords of Creation and cared not a damn for anybody or anything. I knew that voice. Oh, dear God, I knew that voice.

  'Not a thing, your Lordship,' another voice answered.

  'I'm convinced I heard something.'

  'Probably just the wind in the eaves.'

  I stood still, trying hard not to breathe. The thought of these men discovering us was something I could not bear. Instinctively, I reached out to Mungo and curled my fingers around his. I swear I could hear the hammering of my heart. Mungo understood. He inched closer, pressing against me, hip to hip. The pistols were heavy at my waist, the steel muzzles cold against my skin.

  'We'll take the women tomorrow,' that lazy, terrible drawl stated, with the words as plain as if he were standing at my side.

  'It's like the old days,' another man said and followed the words with a high-pitched laugh that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

  I moved slightly to peer through the gap in the plaster, hoping to see the men who were talking. I had no need, for the voices had been clear, and I knew both speakers. The second had been McAra, yet it was the first man who caused chill perspiration to break out all over my body.

  'Are you all right, Dorothea?' Mungo's concerned hand rubbed my arm. 'Dorothea?'

  'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, I am all right thank you.' I was anything but all right. The owner of the first voice had been none other than Lord Findhorn, my one-time intended.

  Chapter Eighteen

  'Lord Findhorn!' Doctor Hetherington sounded as shocked as I felt when I told him the news. 'What the devil is he doing here?'

  We remained in the attic with the dark now a comforting blanket and the knowledge of Findhorn's presence a sick weight in my stomach. 'I don't know.' I said. 'I don't know.' I wished I was anywhere but Tynebridge Hall. I wished Lord Findhorn was dead and buried and I could finally relinquish my dread.