“Didn’t the constable do anything? Were there no police?”
“Not that would challenge Plowman.”
“Why did Father not stay and fight? Certainly, an earl—and a wealthy one, as you’re saying—would be able to rid himself of this man,” Elspeth said.
“He tried,” Aunt Murdoch said wearily. “He tried very hard, but Plowman had an ear at the register where the marriage licenses were filed. Rory received a letter that there was evidence that a marriage to the Plowman woman did exist and was legitimate.”
“Father contacted the Court of the Lord Lyon, and the claim was rebuked there. He believed all was well. He believed it was over,” James said. “But that’s when strange things started to happen at Dunacres.”
“Strange things?” Kirsty asked.
“Yes. Strange things happened within the walls of Dunacres,” Aunt Murdoch said. “Broken dishes, staff hurt or sick, sheep and horses down. Your father knew it was Plowman but had no proof. He knew there were servants who were causing the accidents and illnesses, but he did not know which ones. So many of them had been in service to the MacTavishes for ages, but there was new staff too.”
“Then Mother fell down the steps,” Muireall said without emotion. She stared at Kirsty and then turned to Elspeth. “She lost a sister or a brother of ours that day and told me that she was certain she was pushed but did not see who had done the pushing.”
“I was away that day,” Elspeth whispered. “I was somewhere else, but I can’t remember where. When I came home, everyone told me that Mother was not feeling well and was keeping to her rooms.”
“She miscarried the afternoon she fell. She was only a few months along. It was a miracle she didn’t break her neck,” Aunt Murdoch said, her lip trembling. “It was such a terrible time.”
Elspeth couldn’t look away then. Aunt was a pillar of strength and common sense, with little tolerance for emotional outbursts of any sort. But here she was dabbing at her eyes with a lace hankie, her voice shaking and weak.
“And then they took Payden.”
“What?” Kirsty shrieked.
“Took Payden?” Elspeth whispered.
“They took him,” James said. “I was with Father when we went looking for him. We were lucky: a dairy woman out before dawn thought she saw someone run past an old shed near where the herd was grazing. I ran, following him and old Mackie, both carrying their long guns and dirks. I wasn’t very old, only eleven or so, but Father put a knife in my hands and told me to defend myself and Payden at all costs.”
“Where was he?”
“Behind the shed. He was laying there on his side, in the tall grass. It looked like they’d dropped him as they ran when they heard Father and Mackie’s battle cry, but Payden wasn’t fussing or crying. Father put him in my arms and sent me running back to the house while he and Mackie went looking for the kidnapper. There were other servants already heading toward me, but Father had told me to not stop until Payden was in Mother’s arms. And that’s what I did. I went through them, Payden in one arm and the knife in the other hand, until I could hand Mother her son while she held up a long sword at the ready.”
“Oh, my dear Lord,” Kirsty said.
“You were just a boy,” Elspeth said.
“I was. But it didn’t matter. The family had to be protected,” James said.
“Mackie was found dead the next morning. His ale had been poisoned,” Aunt said.
Elspeth could hardly take it all in. No wonder Muireall and James and Aunt were so fearful.
“Now you know why Father left. I don’t think he ever intended it to be for more than a few months. Aunt told me he sent letters to the officials in London and Scotland by special messenger and letters to other peers and judges. I think he hoped that Plowman would be caught. That the bad actors at Dunacres would slink away if their leader was gone and that he could keep the family safe away from Scotland until that happened,” Muireall said.
“And you think the men who’ve followed us are connected?” I asked.
“I’m certain they are,” Muireall said. “Do you imagine that we’ve twice had someone randomly follow us?”
Elspeth noticed Kirsty was weeping, and she went to her and knelt in front of her. “You mustn’t cry, dearest. We have to be strong.”
She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “They killed Mother and Father, didn’t they? They killed them on the ship.”
Elspeth sat back on her haunches. It had not occurred to her until that very moment that her parents may have been murdered. It felt as if the earth beneath her feet shook, as if every foundation she had, every truth and reality that she believed, was no longer certain. Nothing was real, it seemed. She stood up slowly and turned to look at Muireall, Aunt Murdoch, and James. Muireall was the only one looking her in the eye. She was calm, rather than the near hysteria she’d seen in her sister earlier.
“Yes. Our parents were murdered. We knew they’d been murdered and hid away for the rest of the journey. What has been done, what has been said and not said, has been done so that the MacTavishes live on, so that Payden can take his rightful place, so that Father and Mother will be honored, that their lives were not in vain. I would do it all again exactly the same way,” Muireall said. “James and Aunt have supported me. I expect you and Kirsty to do the same. There is nothing, nothing more important than guarding Payden and holding up the earldom for his return.”
“It’s been thirteen years, Muireall. We’ve become Americans. Our lives are here.”
Muireall stood and stepped close to Elspeth. “We are MacTavishes. We are the direct line of the chief of the clan. We will never, ever shirk our duties. Not as long as I draw breath.”
Chapter 13
“Pardon me, Mother?” Alexander asked as he picked up his fork and knife.
“I’ve planned a party—more a ball really, considering the number of guests who’ve said yes.”
Alexander was having dinner with his parents and Annabelle, as he did every Sunday evening. He glanced at his father. “This is the first I’m hearing about it, Mother.”
“I didn’t know I needed to ask your permission, darling,” his mother said with raised brows as she sipped her wine from a long-stemmed crystal glass.
“Of course you don’t need my permission. It’s just that there are several . . . things going on that may prove challenging for entertaining.”
“Such as?”
Alexander cut his filet mignon and shrugged, hoping to appear more nonchalant than he felt. “Well, security for one thing. You know that Father has added security to the house and the factory and to the two of you,” he said with a nod to Annabelle. “Large groups are a challenge even for Graham. Am I right, Father?”
“You are absolutely right,” he said sternly. “Your mother and I have had one of our rare disagreements about it, but she and your sister have run roughshod over me. I’ve got three meetings planned with Graham on the subject. You’re welcome to attend. In fact, I wish you would, considering who all is on the guest list.”