Chapter 2

2

Northumberland, December 18th, 1844

T omorrow he'd be in Scotland. David had been tempted to press on, but the short northern day was almost over and a storm was coming, so he decided to be sensible and stop for the night at this small coaching inn. This far north, inns were scarce, and the George looked like a pleasant place. His journey from India had gone smoothly and he could easily reach Falkirk in time for Christmas. Then Hogmanay since Scots celebrated the ending of the old year and the beginning of the new.

His room was small but clean, so he settled in and washed up and headed downstairs for dinner. He reached the tap room just as the front door opened with a gust of icy wind and snowflakes that blew in three travelers. The storm was worsening because the cloaked figures had snow clinging to their clothing. They were a middle aged couple and a young woman assisted by the older man.

David was thinking they were lucky to have arrived before the storm worsened when he heard a metallic clanking. His gaze sharpened and he realized that under the hooded cloak the young woman was gagged and her wrists were manacled.

As he stopped and stared, the girl broke free of the man and pivoted violently, swinging her chain as a weapon. The man dodged back, swearing as the swinging chain smashed into his upper arm.

Her hood fell back revealing tangled red hair and frantic dark eyes. She looked like a madwoman as she swung at the man again.

David instinctively stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist, trapping her arms and immobilizing her. "Peace," he said softly, " peace …."

Speaking as he would to a frightened animal, he continued, "You're safe now, lassie. Safe . No one will hurt you here. Just relax."

She wasn't short, but she felt delicate as a frantic bird in his arms. She became still, but her slim body trembled. She twisted her head to stare up at him and he saw the wildness in her face. Cautiously he released his hold, alert for another outburst, but she didn't move, just continued to stare at him with huge amber eyes.

"Is it necessary to have her bound and gagged?" he asked with a frown. "It's enough to make anyone frantic."

"Our cousin bites," the female half of the couple said sourly. She held up a bandaged hand. "We're Mr. and Mrs. Dawson. We don't want to hurt Catherine, but she makes that very difficult."

"And she screams vile, filthy curses," Mr. Dawson added. "Not fit for female ears." He glanced toward the innkeeper's young daughter, Sally McKay, who was watching wide-eyed. "We're taking the girl to an asylum and want to get her there safely."

Reluctantly David accepted that. He'd seen madness and knew that even a frail looking female could possess violent strength. "How does she eat?"

"We tie her to a chair and take the gag off while she's fed," Dawson explained. "It's a messy business, but if she's hungry enough, she eats."

David saw that underneath her thin cloak, her plain gown was stained with food. The girl was a tragic sight, but her cousins seemed to be doing their best to care for her. "Is the asylum where you're taking her skilled at treating such unfortunates?"

"They have a good reputation," Mrs. Dawson said heavily. "We can but pray they will have success with poor Catherine. She hasn't always been this bad so we hope she might improve." The older woman took a firm grip on the girl's upper arm. "Come along now, dear." Catherine jerked away, looking dangerous again.

"We'll need two rooms," Mr. Dawson said.

Mr. McKay hesitated. "I have only one room left, sir. You and your wife can have it, Mr. Dawson, but your cousin will have to stay there with you."

Dawson frowned. "I fear for our safety if that happens! She's sly as well as dangerous."

"Papa, I can make up a pallet for her in the small pantry," the landlord's young daughter suggested. "It can be locked and the poor lass won't be upset by other people."

Mrs. Dawson considered, then nodded. "That will do. Can we feed her now in the kitchen? Then she can be locked up while my husband and I dine and retire for the night."

"Of course," the landlord said. "This way to the kitchen. Sally, take bedding to the pantry and make it as comfortable as you can."

As the Dawsons headed to the kitchen, their cousin between them, Mr. McKay turned to David. "Would you like to dine now, Captain Cameron? We have beef and onion pie tonight with fried potatoes on the side."

Realizing how hungry he was, David said, "That will do very well, along with a tankard of ale."

The landlord's wife appeared and seated him in the taproom, then served him before vanishing back into the kitchen. With the storm raging outside, the taproom was almost empty, but a warm fire and hearty dinner made for a pleasant meal. David enjoyed the beef pie, which was good British food well suited to a bad British winter.

He'd finished his dinner and was considering another tankard of ale when Sally McKay came to his table. "Would you like a sweet, Captain? We have a nice baked apple pudding with cream tonight."

David was about to agree that sounded good when a heart breaking female cry sounded from the direction of the kitchen. As it was instantly cut off, Sally shuddered. "Poor Miss Caitlin! Such a tragedy the way she is now."

"Miss Caitlin?" David asked.

"The young lady the Dawsons brought in all chained up," Sally explained. "Her real name is Caitlin Wallace, but they call her Catherine because that's the English form of her name. Maybe they think that will make her behave better. After her parents died, Miss Caitlin came to live with her uncle Wallace at his estate not far from here. She was wild as a hawk, but always kind and friendly. She didn't seem mad to me."

"Do you think it was grief that changed her?" David asked.

Sally nodded. "Losing her parents and then her uncle must have been too much for her. The Dawsons came up to help her through such a hard time, but it was no use. She'd already run mad."

"A tragedy indeed," David said quietly. He'd seen how devastating great sorrow could be. He hoped that it was possible for the girl to recover from grief, but perhaps her earlier wildness had been a sign of instability.

He was ending his meal when Sally's father approached his table. "Captain, the Dawsons have fed the young lady and are ready to lock her into the pantry for the night, but she's fighting like a mad thing. Mr. Dawson asked if you could come help since you were so good in helping her calm down earlier."

David nodded and stood, following Mr. McKay into the kitchen. The girl was still manacled and had been gagged again, but she stood wild-eyed with her back to the wall as she held a wooden chair in front of her. The legs were raised threateningly and a scowling Mr. Dawson was rubbing his arm and swearing under his breath. "I hope you can subdue her, Captain Cameron. She's a menace!"

David collected himself so he wouldn't frighten her further. "You need rest, Miss Caitlin," he said calmly as he stepped within range of her chair. "You've had a long, tiring journey."

She blinked as she heard him call her Caitlin, then swung the chair viciously. He caught the two upper legs, his palms stinging from the force of impact. The girl was strong. He held the chair still. "This does you no good, Miss Caitlin. The pantry will be a warm, comfortable place to sleep."

Her wary gaze holding his, she slowly lowered the chair. "Come along now," David said as he offered her a hand. After a long hesitation, she accepted his hand, the manacles clinking as she reached out.

Sally came to her other side and she and David escorted the girl through the kitchen to the pantry behind it. Mr. McKay led the way and selected a key from the large jangling key ring he carried. When he opened the pantry door, some fiddling was required to persuade the old lock to open.

The door opened to reveal a small, dark space with shelves on three sides and a floor covered with blankets and a pillow. McKay said, "This pantry backs up to the kitchen so it's warmer here than in the upper rooms."

Caitlin made a choked sound behind her gag, then turned and scrambled up David like a monkey climbing a tree, her hands clawing his clothing. He staggered a little, then put his arms around her, feeling her shaking terror. "There's nothing to fear, Miss Caitlin," he said in his most soothing voice. "It's a warm, safe place."

Sally suggested, "She may be afraid of the dark."

After a moment's study, David said, "The door isn't fitted very tightly so light should come in around the edges if there's a lamp here in the kitchen." With Sally's help, he gently peeled the frightened girl off him. "It might help to remove that suffocating gag."

Mr. Dawson had followed and he said sternly, "No! She might bite herself badly if you do that. She has in the past."

David was reluctant to interfere with the guardian, so he opened the pantry door and scanned the interior. There were bags of potatoes and onions and other foodstuffs. Nothing that was likely to allow the girl to harm herself. But when she looked inside, she began to struggle again, manacles jangling.

"There now," David said as he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "It won't be so bad. Less drafty than the bedrooms."

Caitlin turned and gave him a blazing glance. He wished he could read what was in those dark amber eyes. Then she gave up the struggle and stepped into the pantry, slamming the door behind her. Mr. McKay locked the door and left, his face sad. The Dawsons followed him.

David and Sally exchanged an exhausted glance. As Sally set a lantern on the deal kitchen table so there would be some light in the pantry, she said, "Maybe Miss Caitlin will be able to pull the gag off. She'll sleep better if she doesn't have that nasty thing around her mouth.

"I hope you're right." David sighed as he thought of the long day's travel he'd had before arriving at the inn. "We could all use some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

But as he climbed the stairs and settled into his bed, he wondered if the physicians would ever learn to heal madness.

The first thing Caitlin did once she was alone in the pantry was drag off the gag so she could breathe properly. She rubbed her cheeks, which were numbed by the tightness of the gag.

After that she sat quietly on the blanketed floor until there were no sounds of human activity. As her eyes adjusted to the faint light that showed around the edges of the door, she examined the folding pocket knife she'd stolen from the army officer. Stealing it was a poor return for the kindness he'd shown, but she needed the knife more than he did.

She wondered if he would have helped her if she'd been able to tear off the gag and explain how the Dawsons had kidnapped her, but that had been too great a risk. The Dawsons had done too good a job of convincing everyone that she was mad.

She was in luck. The pocket knife was an expensive one and besides the usual folding blade, there was a thin metal spike that also folded out. Perhaps intended to act as a toothpick? Whatever the original purpose, it was well suited to picking open the locks on the manacles. With a sigh of relief, she twisted her wrists, glad to be free of the weight and the noise.

She got to her feet carefully. From the sound of the wind, the storm was a strong one. Not a good time to escape, but this was her last, best chance.

Wielding the pick on the captain's pocket knife, she started work on the pantry's crude lock. She'd rather die in the storm than be murdered by the Dawsons.