Chapter Seventeen

Jennifer was up and seated at the window, Flossy snuggled on her lap, by the time Jenet arrived the following morning. ‘Ye'll catch ye death wi'oot yer claes,' the maid admonished her, putting down the tray and hurrying over to cover her mistress with a robe.

‘I couldn't sleep,' Jennifer defended, submitting to Jenet's ministrations with a smile.

‘Well, that will ne'er dae,' Jenet clucked, handing the young woman a cup of hot chocolate. ‘Daed the kerfuffle wake ye, ma lady?'

Jennifer frowned. ‘What kerfuffle?'

The maid was busy stoking up the fire. At her mistress's question, she swivelled round and waved her hand. ‘Och, it be nothin' tae bother yer heid wi, ma lady. The new footman be a surly lad an' ah kenned he wouldnae last long.'

Jennifer frowned and climbed off the window seat, much to Flossy's chagrin. ‘What did he do?'

Always ready to share a bit of gossip, Jenet got to her feet. ‘Well, Murray – that be the footman, ma lady – telled MacNee he be naithin but an auld woman.' Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘MacNee haes a fearsome temper, ma lady and ah've ne'er seen him so angry. They were oot in the courtyard, jus' below yer window, an' they be shoutin' lood enough tae wake the deid, so ah'd nae be surprised if it were the yellyhooin that woke ye.' She shook her head and turned back to the fire.

Jennifer felt her stomach contract with dread. ‘Where is Murray now?'

‘Gaun ma lady. Not half an hour back, an' guid riddance ah say.'

Jennifer placed her cup back on the tray. ‘I'd like to get dressed now,' she told the maid, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

‘It be early yet, ma lady.'

Jennifer gritted her teeth at Jenet's obtuseness. ‘I believe Flossy wishes for a walk,' she said firmly, waving towards the little dog who'd wasted no time in burrowing back under the blankets on the bed. Jenet opened her mouth to point out the fact that the animal was in fact snoring, but one look at her mistress's resolute face made her close it again. Instead she nodded and climbed back to her feet.

Twenty minutes later, Jennifer went in search of her brother, her earlier anxiety replaced by a feeling of dread. Unfortunately, it seemed her brother was also no longer abed. Biting her lip, she hurried down to the breakfast room, only to be told the Viscount had gone for an early morning ride.

Jennifer fought the urge to scream. Was Peter aware of the altercation between the footman and butler? Clearly this Murray was on his way back to MacFarlane. If he should speak with the Chieftain, their whole plan could unravel. What the deuce had happened to Gifford's vow to keep the two interlopers busy?

After conveying her wish to be informed immediately on her brother's return, Jennifer took Flossy out into the garden, her thoughts racing. Perhaps the footman had deliberately planned the argument as an excuse for him to leave. She shook her head. That made no sense. He would have been much better simply slipping away, telling no one. So, if the argument was unplanned, Murray – if that was the footman's real name – may have felt he had no choice. How long would it take him to walk to his Clan home?

After watching Flossy finish her business, Jennifer hastened back towards the house, only to be told that the Viscount had not yet returned. An enquiry about Gifford's whereabouts revealed the steward was picking up supplies from Banalan this morning. When the housekeeper asked if her ladyship would like to speak with Mr. Mackenzie, Jennifer fought the urge to laugh hysterically.

‘Mr. Mackenzie is unfortunately suffering with the same sickness that has beset my grandfather,' she explained, holding out a placating hand at Mrs. Darroch's alarmed expression. ‘I'm certain it's nothing to worry about, but Mrs. Mackenzie will ensure they both keep to their room as a precaution and will ring if they need anything.' When the housekeeper seemed about to ask another question, Jennifer forestalled her by asking for a pot of tea.

To her relief, Mrs. Darroch gave a quick curtsy and left without any further questions. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave,' she muttered to herself, quoting Sir Walter Scott. She stared out of the window as though watching might suddenly conjure her brother out of thin air. In truth he could be hours. She knew her sibling of old. This is exactly what he always did when a situation was beyond his control. Being forced to wait while others acted did not sit well with Peter, any more than it did their father.

She guessed that Peter had believed the steward would be in the house during his absence, while Gifford assumed the Viscount would be in residence. Jennifer grimaced. Men. Did they ever actually talk to each other?

When neither man had returned after an hour, she made a decision. She could not simply sit and twiddle her thumbs, hoping that Peter or Gifford would arrive back to save the day. She would have to take action herself.

Seating herself, she wrote a short note to her brother, then ringing the bell, asked for a horse to be brought round. Lastly, mindful of her earlier frustration, she called to Flossy and went in search of Felicity.

∞∞∞

Since Brendon and Malcolm had been up since midnight, they took it in turns to rest. Waiting was always the hardest part of any undertaking, and unless the Reverend and Dougal ran into any problems, there was nothing for either man to do until the guards had finally left the mine for the night. Fergus on the other hand seemed to have no problem with inactivity and spent most of the morning dozing happily in the watery sunlight.

At midday, they nibbled on strips of dried beef and discussed their forthcoming strategy.

‘We hae tae assume at least one guard will remain after th'others leave,' Brendon mooted. ‘Finn said he heard the man snoring so likely he'll hae a bed o' sorts in one o' the old bothies close tae the mine entrance. He'll nae want tae be abroad when the midges come oot.'

‘We'll have to wait until the bloody beasties are gone for the night too,' Malcolm retorted. ‘We'll nae get the bairns movin' if they be covered in bites.' He rolled out their map and laid it between them both. ‘If we come in through here,' he suggested, pointing to a gap in the copse of trees that kept prying eyes from easily observing the mine, ‘and keep tae the Lochside, we'll nae be easily spotted if there's an additional guard.'

Brendon nodded. ‘Ah doot the MacFarlane will bother wi more an one though. He'll be thinkin' the bairns are safe enough locked up – an' we dinnae think he kens he's missin' one.'

‘But the guard Finn described surely knows?'

‘Aye and ye can bet he'll nae hae told the Chieftain. The MacFarlane uses his sword first an' his mouth after.'

It was Malcolm's turn to nod. ‘So, we hope for one but keep an eye out for more.'

‘What dae we dae wi' the guards once we have the key tae the mine? Dae we finish ‘em?' Brendon asked matter-of-factly.

‘Will it provoke a retaliation?'

Brendon shrugged. ‘Who knows what the MacFarlane'll dae. But ah reckon we cannae worry aboot that. We do whatever we need tae. Better them deid than us.'

‘Aye,' Malcolm agreed simply. ‘And if the eejit watching over Inveruglas is daft enough to be there come sundown, we'll deal wi' him first.' He paused, then added, ‘Once we've freed the youngsters, we'll need tae get ‘em back to Caerlaverock as quickly as possible.'

‘We could hae daen wi' Dougal's horse an' cart - the poor wee bairns are nae gaunnae want tae walk.' Brendon shook his head and sighed. ‘Ah confess ah was hopin' the lazy ne"er-dae-weels'd leave the wagon thinkin' tae use it tae bring back the treasure…' he paused and chuckled. ‘Truly, the MacFarlane be a bloody bampot.'

‘Aye,' Malcolm conceded, ‘But a dangerous one.' He shook his head. ‘Ye be right though, it'll be a long walk fer wee feet back tae Caerlaverock. We'll need tae stay off the Lochside.'

‘If all gaes accordin' tae plan, they'll nae be missin the bairns until the morra,' Brendon mused. ‘Once they've giein the signal, the Reverend an' ma da'll use the boat ah hid tae get off Inveruglas.

‘What dae ye say tae takin' the MacFarlane's boat and splittin' the bairns between the twa. We could row back to Caerlaverock wi' naebody the wiser til' the morn.'

Malcolm gave a slow grin and nodded. ‘We should be able tae reach safety long before the MacFarlane discovers the bairns are gone.' Then looking over at the wolfhound curled up in the grass, his smile faded. ‘What about Fergus?' he asked.

‘Och, the hound could find his way back home blindfold. He'll follow the boats an' keep an eye oot fer any trouble.'

∞∞∞

Predicably Felicity hadn't been happy with Jennifer's proposal at all. ‘What on earth will your mother say when she learns I allowed you to go off alone?' the matron declared.

‘Well, I'm all ears if you have a better idea,' Jennifer responded tartly. ‘There's no time to send a note to Chapman and his men, who are even now I suspect enjoying all the delights that Banalan has to offer. How long do you think it would take to round them up? And we both know that Peter has purposefully kept them out of what is an extremely volatile situation.

Felicity opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again with a sigh. ‘Can you at least wait another hour? Likely Peter will have returned by then.'

‘Murray left nearly two hours ago,' Jennifer protested. ‘However, he's on foot. If I leave now, I'll reach Malcolm and Brendon before the traitor has a chance to tell MacFarlane what he knows. Hopefully, they'll be able to stop him.'

‘How?' Felicity questioned sharply.

‘I can't think about that,' Jennifer retorted, ‘but if I don't try, then Malcolm, Brendon, my grandfather and Dougal will almost certainly be captured at the very least. All four are trespassing on MacFarlane land, and even I know that up here, no one will take the blackguard to task if he strings them up.' She paused, feeling sudden tears well up. ‘I've written Peter a note. As soon as my brother and Gifford return, you can be certain they will come after me.'

In truth, the thought of her husband at the mercy of such as Alistair MacFarlane made Felicity want to cast up her account. But she had a duty towards her charge. Grace had entrusted Jennifer to her. How could she even consider allowing the young woman to risk her life in such a hazardous endeavour? But, in her heart, she knew Jennifer would go, with or without her consent. After a few seconds, Felicity closed her eyes in defeat. When she opened them again, Jennifer was back on her feet.

‘Here's the note to Peter. I know I don't need to ask you to watch for him or for Gifford. Please look after Flossy until Grandpapa and I return.' Felicity nodded and stood up, pulling Jennifer into a brief tight embrace.

‘Please don't do anything foolish, Jenny,' she whispered, feeling the answering headshake against her cheek.

Seconds later Jennifer was gone.

∞∞∞

‘Do you know where Brendon hid the boat?' the Reverend asked suddenly.

‘Aye, it be ower there in the reeds.'

‘Shall I go and check it's there?'

Ye gaunnie nae dae that, yer numpy. We dinnae want tae draw the eejit's attention tae it.'

The Reverend bristled but was in truth too tired to do more than glower. It had taken him two hours to dig three useless holes. Naturally, he hadn't accepted Dougal's declaration that his bad leg prevented him from digging but conceded that the old Scot could only do it under the cover of the ruined tower where he could not be observed. The result was a pathetic hole that wouldn't have hidden a lady's reticule, let alone a satchel full of gold jewellery.

And after listening to Dougal's grumbling for nigh on half an hour, the Reverend had snatched the shovel from the Scot's hands, only narrowly resisting the urge to bash the addlepate over the head with it.

‘How long do you think we have until sunset?' the clergyman asked, trying to ignore his recent disturbing propensity for violence.

‘Ah reckon we hae aboot four hours til gloamin. The bastart'll nae be hangin' aroond tae provide a meal fer the wee beasties, and naither will the other bastarts ower at the mine.'

‘Which leaves us to provide their only evening meal. Splendid.'

Dougal favoured him with a toothless grin but didn't answer. There really wasn't anything to say.

∞∞∞

Jennifer followed the Lochside, guessing that unless Murray wanted to walk the whole way back to his Clan home, he'd stick to the most used track too in the hopes of receiving a lift.

In any case, she'd doubtless get lost or worse if she attempted to find her way across the numerous trails crisscrossing the wild landscape.

She kept the horse at a sedate canter, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of the former footman. The weather was overcast but reasonably warm, and she soon began to feel sticky and hot beneath her riding habit.

Fortunately on the insistence of both her parents, Jennifer had been taught to ride astride a horse, so she didn't have the additional difficulty of keeping her balance. She couldn't help but loose a small chuckle. The current bridle path was hardly Rotten Row.

After about an hour, another discomfort began to assail her, and she realised she'd left Caerlaverock without breaking her fast. Berating herself for her stupidity, she wondered if she'd be able to purchase anything to eat. A heel of bread and a pitcher of water would do.

As far as she was aware, there were no villages between here and the MacFarlane Keep, but surely there would be a farmhouse or croft who'd take her coin.

It was another hour before she came across a small farmhouse, nestling in a hollow to the left of the track. Surprisingly, she'd passed no traffic of any kind – neither riding nor walking, going either way. On the one hand, it meant she'd been unable to confirm whether she was on the same track as her quarry, but on the other, if he was still walking, she must be getting close to catching him up. Stopping at the croft, she could at least find out if she was heading in the same direction.

Jennifer directed her horse towards the gate and dismounted onto a large, conveniently placed boulder. Then tying her horse to the post at the side of the gate, she raised the latch and stepped through into the small yard.

On closer inspection, the croft looked deserted. Frowning, she came to a halt and stood uncertainly, staring about her. Had it been abandoned? Certainly there were no livestock noises or signs that there were any people around. There was no washing on the line, or boots lined up on the porch as was customary in Blackmore. But most telling of all, no smoke coming out of the chimney.

Feeling suddenly very alone, Jennifer backed up, staring all the while at the faceless windows. ‘Hello?' Her voice sounded loud in the stillness. She shouted again, this time frightening a small host of sparrows nesting in the dilapidated roof.

After receiving no reply for the third time, Jennifer had had enough. Plainly the croft was unoccupied, so her stomach would simply have to survive a little longer. Turning back to face the gate, she carefully picked her way towards it.

The horse's sudden bray should have alerted her, but she didn't identify the sound of footsteps until it was too late. At the last second, she felt breath hot against her neck and swung back round, briefly catching sight of Caerlaverock's former footman as he brought something large directly down onto her head. She just had time to wonder whether Felicity would ever forgive her, when whatever he was holding connected. There was a brief, blinding pain, and then, nothing.