Chapter 23

It was almost noon the next day when Garrett and his soldiers prepared to leave Mhor Manor, ordered by General Hawley to rejoin Colonel Wolfe’s regiment at Fort Augustus.

“Your mission is completed to the satisfaction of your superiors. You are dismissed, Major Marshall!” General Hawley’s second-in-command shouted, with a final salute after the brief promotion ceremony.

Garrett stonily acknowledged the officer, then turned to Sergeant Fletcher. “Give the order, sergeant,” he said tersely.

“Step lively, men. We’re on to Fort Augustus!”

Garrett was consumed by fury as his men began to march in solemn double lines down the dirt drive, his prancing bay bringing up the rear. He felt as if he were living a nightmare. The events of the past hours played relentlessly in his mind…

Last night after a few brimming goblets of wine, General Hawley had soon tired of asking questions about Black Jack and had insisted upon viewing the secret tunnel. Axes had made short work of the planked floor in the drawing room closet, exposing the gaping black hole.

It had been a terrible revelation, and had confirmed everything Glenis had told him. Yet it was no more terrible than the general’s disclosure of his plans for Madeleine and her kinsmen amid a celebration which was fueled by copious quantities of red wine.

“First we’ll have a day’s respite after the rigors of this evening,” General Hawley had stated drunkenly, his strident laughter echoing about the room, “then we’re off to my new headquarters in Edinburgh and the triumphant task of delivering our Jacobite dogs to the castle gaol. Within a fortnight, the wench and her traitor friends will be tried for treason and hanged!”

Garrett grimaced at the awful memory, his knuckles white as he clutched the reins. He had known at that moment there was no use in making a plea for Madeleine’s life and the lives of her kinsmen. After what he had witnessed in Farraline he could expect no mercy from General Henry Hawley.

No, he had decided to wait. Another idea was forming in his mind. It was a desperate plan, but it was his only hope.

Garrett turned in his saddle, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Mhor Manor and the stable just beyond the house. His heart thudded dully. But it was too late. The buildings were already hidden behind a thick copse of fir trees.

He twisted back around, wondering how Madeleine was faring that morning, wondering if she was well. Thanks to Hawley, he had not seen her since he had handed her over to Sergeant Fletcher last night. The general had forbidden any access to the prisoners because he feared an escape attempt.

At first Garrett thought he could get around the order because his men were serving as guards. He had gone to the stable after Hawley and his commanders had finally retired to their rooms, only to discover that Sergeant Fletcher and his men had been replaced by some of General Hawley’s own troops.

His request to enter had been denied. Frustrated and angered, he had returned to Glenis’s room, his assigned sleeping quarters since the rooms upstairs were occupied by Hawley’s officers. There he had spent a sleepless night, his mind in anguish.

The worst part of this endless nightmare was the sickening feeling that he might never see Madeleine again.

“Dammit, man, you will see her again!” Garrett whispered fiercely to himself.

“What was that, Captain Marshall…uh…I mean Major Marshall?” Sergeant Fletcher asked, dropping his position at the back of the line to walk beside Garrett’s horse.

Garrett sighed. “Nothing, Fletcher. I was merely—”

He paused, struck by a sudden idea. “I’ve decided to ride on ahead, sergeant,” he continued evenly, masking his impatience. “Colonel Wolfe should be informed of our successful mission and Black Jack’s capture as soon as possible. I’d like you to take charge of the men and see them to Fort Augustus in my stead.”

“No trouble at all, Major,” Sergeant Fletcher replied, slinging his musket more comfortably over his shoulder. “You’re right about Colonel Wolfe. He’d be more than interested in the news.”

“Good,” Garrett responded, scarcely hearing him. “I’ll expect you and the men sometime later this evening. It shouldn’t be too hard a march without the wagons.”

He didn’t wait for a reply but spurred the bay into a fast gallop. The massive animal seemed to sense his urgency, and his forceful strides rapidly lengthened the distance between Garrett and his startled soldiers.

Garrett’s thoughts whirled as he sped along, the wild scenery around him fading into a blur of color.

As soon as he reached Fort Augustus, he would explain everything to Colonel Wolfe. He could trust the colonel to understand. He would ask for immediate leave, then set out at once for London.

His brother Gordon was his only chance. As a respected court minister, he had the ear of King George. Nothing less than a king’s pardon would rescue Madeleine from the gallows, and Garrett must somehow persuade Gordon to request one—in time to save her.

Garrett clenched his teeth as a wave of bitterness gripped him. How humiliating that he should have to entrust his fragile dream, his very soul, to a brother who had always hated him.

He only hoped Gordon still wanted to possess Rosemoor. It was his only means of bargaining for Madeleine’s life.

Biting tears suddenly clouded his vision, choking off his last thought. He was shaken by the intensity of his emotion.

“No, this fight isn’t over yet,” Garrett vowed defiantly.

He thought of Madeleine’s wild beauty, her kiss, her laughter, her smiles, and her touch. The vivid memories spurred him on and he raced across the purple heather, thinking only of when he would see her again.

***

“They’re gone, Maddie,” Angus reported. “Major Marshall and his soldiers are gone.”

He turned stiffly from the high stable window where he had watched the past half hour’s proceedings: the promotion ceremony, the curt farewells, the march from Mhor Manor. His gaze met Madeleine’s. “They must be on their way back to Fort Augustus. They dinna take the road into Farraline but turned south toward Aberchalder.”

“Aye, ‘tis probably so,” Madeleine said tonelessly. She looked away, leaning her head against the stall. She winced from a sudden, throbbing ache but chose to ignore it. At least it had dulled from the piercing pain that had plagued her until a few hours ago.

She glanced back at Angus. He was staring at her strangely, as if he was surprised she hadn’t thrown some sharp-tongued barb to send Garrett and his men on their way. She couldn’t tell him she felt too numb and paralyzed by Garrett’s betrayal even to mention his name.

Angus would never understand. He had no idea of what had passed between herself and Garrett—nor would he. It was her own private pain, her well deserved punishment for having trusted a redcoat, for having ever entertained the notion that she loved him. Aye, she was truly a fool.

“I dinna care where the major is bound, Angus,” she said dully. “I think we should be more concerned with what’s to happen to us now.”

It was true enough, she thought, pushing the dirty straw on the floor with her boot. She didn’t want to think about Garrett any longer. He had gotten what he had come for, and left. It was as simple as could be. He was gone from her life forever.

“I heard the guards talking outside the window,” Angus said, easing himself down beside her. He grimaced, his body bruised and sore from last night’s ambush. “They said something about Edinburgh Castle.”

Madeleine nodded slowly. “Ye know what that means, Angus. There’s a prison in the castle. ‘Tis where our Lord Lovat’s son, Master Simon, is being held.” She smiled grimly. “‘Twould not be so bad to share a cell with our future chief.”

When Angus did not readily answer, Madeleine turned slightly to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, deep concern etched on his ruddy face. She followed his gaze to where Ewen sat, his eyes closed, Duncan sleeping beside him, then over to Allan, who was wiping the feverish sweat from his younger brother’s brow.

She sighed heavily, besieged by despair. Kenneth was very ill, maybe dying. It was not so much the bullet that had felled him, but the surgeon’s disinterested and incompetent care afterward which placed his life in jeopardy.

It had been a terrible scene. Kenneth’s agonized screams were the first thing she had heard when she regained consciousness. The removal of the ball from Kenneth’s thigh had been accompanied by a great loss of blood, the surgeon’s clumsy knife having only made things worse. Kenneth had fainted from pain, his hands still desperately clutching his brother’s.

After the surgeon had staunched the bleeding and bandaged the ravaged leg, he had left the stable and never returned. The others could only tend to Kenneth as best they could, tearing strips of their clothing into rags which they soaked into their drinking water to soothe his raging fever.

Now it was clear their efforts had been in vain. Kenneth was deathly pale, his breathing raspy and shallow. Madeleine feared he would not survive the journey to Edinburgh, or even the next few hours. Dear God, when would the horrors end?

She was suddenly overcome by everything that had happened and by her own wretched helplessness. Her chin trembled, tears tumbling down her cheeks. She could not have stopped them if she tried, and she was forced to break her vow that she would never let her kinsmen see her cry.

“Och, Maddie,” Angus crooned gently when he heard her sobbing. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders. “‘Tis not yer fault, if that’s what ye’re thinking. Kenneth knew the dangers when he chose to ride with us. We all did.” He hugged her tightly. “We fought a good battle, Maddie Fraser. For a few months we helped our kin to survive.”

“Farraline is gone, Angus!” Madeleine cried, her tears flowing unchecked. “Burned to the ground!” She shuddered, remembering last night’s flames and the curling black smoke she had seen that morning when she peered from the stable window. She could well imagine the smoldering ruins. “How can ye say we’ve helped our kin when we brought this upon them? Now they’ve no homes, and the winter is coming—”

“Hush with ye!” Angus chided, giving her a firm shake. “Think, Maddie. Think of all ye’ve done! Aye, ye gave them food, but dinna forget ye gave them hope, too. Do ye think ‘twill die so easily in their hearts?”

She sniffed, not answering him.

“Clan Fraser is a hardy lot, lass,” he continued fervently. “They’ll rebuild long before winter, ye can be sure. And there’s food on Beinn Dubhcharaidh, plenty of food to last the winter. Ewen saw to it last night that his good wife knows where to find the cave, and so does Flora Chrystie. Ye dinna have to worry for the Frasers of Strathherrick, Maddie. Ye saw to that.” He swore under his breath. “They’ll prove that Hawley wrong. A Fraser wishing himself dead—’twill never happen!”

Madeleine sobs gradually quieted. She found comfort in Angus’s words, though she had no idea what he’d meant by his last statement. She rested her head on his broad shoulder, wiping her face with her jacket sleeve. “Aye, I told Glenis to let Meg Blair’s father know about the cave, too,” she said. “I hope she’s all right.”

Angus’s tone was reassuring, though his expression was somber. “Dinna fear for yer Glenis,” he replied. “I’m sure she had the good sense to take refuge on the moor when she saw the redcoats coming. Remember what I told ye last night, soon after ye came out of yer faint?”

“Aye,” Madeleine said softly. “Ye said ye had overheard General Hawley talking to Major Marshall, telling him he would spare the villagers’ lives.”

“That I did,” Angus said, nodding gravely. “I thought ‘twas important ye knew that, so ye wouldna worry. ‘Twas bad enough ye were in such pain yerself, without fearing what was happening to yer kin. And ye shouldna fear for them now. Ye accomplished what ye set out to do.” He paused, drawing a deep breath. “I was close enough to General Hawley to overhear a few other things, Maddie, but I wanted to wait ‘til ye were feeling better to tell ye the rest.”

Madeleine looked up at him. “What did ye hear, Angus?” she asked, puzzled.

“I believe I misjudged Major Marshall,” he said quietly. “Ye were right to trust him, Maddie. I’ve never seen a more coldhearted bastard than General Hawley. He came to Farraline looking for Black Jack, just as Major Marshall warned he might. ‘Twas by divine chance we came along when we did. If we hadna, ‘twould not have been enough for Hawley to burn the village. He would have taken every life in Farraline without blinking an eye.” He shuddered visibly. “I dinna think that bodes well for us in Edinburgh, lass.”

Madeleine was shaken by his admission. She’d never have dreamed Angus Ramsay would ever say a good word about an Englishman. Sudden indignation seized her, sweeping away her chilling numbness.

“Aye, I trusted him, Angus,” she said heatedly. “But Major Marshall lied to me. He said Hawley wouldna come to our village at all if Black Jack was found—”

“I think ‘twas as much of a surprise for him to find General Hawley in Farraline as ‘twas for us, Maddie,” Angus interjected. “Major Marshall received quite a tongue-lashing for saying the whole matter could have ended peacefully, if only Hawley had been more patient.”

Madeleine stared at him openmouthed, too stunned to speak.

“Major Marshall ordered the soldiers to stay the torches, Maddie. I heard him admit as much to the general. ‘Twas Hawley who set his men upon the village once more, saying ‘twould be a lesson for the rest of Strathherrick.”

“Why are ye telling me this, Angus?” Madeleine demanded hoarsely, finding her voice at last. “We’re on our way to prison in Edinburgh Castle, and the major,” she hissed, “with his fine promotion, is on his way back to Fort Augustus. What does it matter?” She rose abruptly to her feet, but Angus caught her sleeve.

“I’m sorry, lass. We—we face such troubles ahead,” he said falteringly, as if unsure how to express what he was feeling. “Last night, well, I’ve never seen ye so distraught. Ye’re like a daughter to me, Maddie. I thought ye’d want to know what Major Marshall had done to help your kin, that’s all…I dinna want ye to go on thinking he lied to ye, after ye trusted him so.”

Madeleine broke away from him and hurried to the high window, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. She rested her forehead upon the sill, her thoughts a tangled confusion.

Garrett hadn’t lied to her. She would never have believed it but for her Angus telling her it was so. Garrett had tried to stop the destruction…

She inhaled sharply as vivid memories of the night before flooded her mind. The flames, the raucous laughter, the screaming. Garrett’s anxious voice, imploring her to drop the pistol.

Madeleine rubbed her temples, her head beginning to pound. Garrett’s words came back to her in a rush. You can still trust me, Maddie…I told you the truth…You must believe me …

Yet she hadn’t believed him. She would have shot him dead if that other officer—

A ragged moan broke from her throat, and she covered her face with her hands. Other memories, other words, crowded in upon her: Foyer’s Falls, their night together, his fierce embrace, his words—his words! Garrett had said nothing would happen to her, not if he could prevent it.

Madeleine slowly lifted her head, her eyes blurred with fresh tears as she gazed searchingly out the window. There were redcoats all around, marching along the drive, walking in and out of her home, camped upon the back lawn, in the orchard, laughing and talking. Yet none of them was Garrett.

He was gone.

The awful finality of it struck her with resounding force, echoing in her mind. Garrett was gone. He had spoken those words before he knew she was Black Jack. She could expect nothing from him now. Nothing.

Shattering heartache suddenly gripped her, far worse than anything she could have imagined. She trembled uncontrollably, her hands curled into tight fists.

How she wished she still believed Garrett had betrayed her, if only to dull the pain tormenting her now. That he had forsaken her was more than she could bear.

“It doesna matter,” she whispered fiercely, wiping angrily at her tears. “It doesna matter!”

Yet deep in her heart, it did matter. She could not deny it. She cared, and deep down she had begun to believe Garrett might care, too. Until now.