He nodded and forced himself to relax and speak slowly and softly when he wanted to kill someone, even though the man he wanted to kill was already dead—and by her hand, he suspected. He wanted to shout and rant and pound his fists, but it would frighten her, and that would never do. “I’m glad you thought of me. I was so worried about you.”
“I thought . . . I thought they would kill you. There were so many of them.”
“We are all fine. Your brothers, Payden and James. Your sisters. Your aunt. Mrs. McClintok and Robert. Everyone is well.”
She let out a ragged breath. “Yes. Yes. Aunt told me, but it doesn’t always feel true.”
“It’s true,” he said. “Will you trust me?”
She nodded slowly and turned her head to look out the window. She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes. “I was so afraid.”
“So was I.”
Elspeth was seated at a small table that James had carried into her bedroom. She was eating soup, and Muireall was sitting across from her, glancing in a ledger over the tops of her spectacles. “We’ve got a new customer. One of the vendors you and Kirsty talked to at the Bainbridge Street Market. They’re going to take green beans to start.”
Elspeth dabbed her lips. The cuts on her mouth and inside her cheeks were mostly healed, although dark bruises were still visible on her face from her ear to her nose. Aunt Murdoch would be taking the stitches out of the back of her head in a few days, and her hands were mostly scabbed now and the skin so itchy she’d been wearing gloves to bed so she wouldn’t scratch open the gashes during the night.
“The men at the warehouse where I was held,” she looked at Muireall, “were any of them Cameron Plowman?”
“No. None of the dead or imprisoned have been identified as Plowman.”
“So we are still in danger.”
Muireall nodded and closed her ledger. “We are, but from what James and the Pendergasts’ security man, Graham, have been able to find out, Plowman’s forces here have been decimated. If Plowman intends to continue this, which he will, he must rebuild.”
“Who is tending Dunacres? Has Plowman taken it over?”
“No. It is being overseen by the Crown and still retains many of the staff loyal to our family. Word has been sent to trusted men in London and Edinburgh about this attack. They will tell the authorities what has happened, and I believe it will only strengthen our case.”
“Are we safe, do you think?” Elspeth whispered.
“For the time being, yes, but we always should be on our guard.”
Elspeth folded and unfolded her linen napkin. She straightened the spoon where it lay on the table and moved her glass of cold tea an inch or two. “I will always be on my guard, Muireall,” she whispered. “Always.”
Her sister nodded and looked at her closely. “I imagine so. Are you ready to talk about what happened?”
“I may never be ready.”
“That is fine. Or not. You must decide what you wish to reveal and what will go with you to your grave.” Muireall stood, gathered the ledger, and went to the door of Elspeth’s room.
“He put his mouth on me,” she said.
Muireall stopped, her hand on the doorknob. She did not turn. “Did he?”
Elspeth looked at her sister’s back. “He grabbed my breast and pulled and twisted it,” she said quietly.
“I saw the bruises on you when we tended you.”
“He put my hand on him.” She cleared her throat. “On his crotch. On his member. He called it his cock and said I would learn to like it.”
Muireall’s shoulders rose and fell on a breath. “Bastard.”
“He did not . . . I removed my petticoats in case I had to run. He did not unclothe me . . . or touch my . . .” She calmed herself. She wanted to allay fears. She knew her family was concerned. She believed they both wanted to know and wished to never be told. “I was not raped,” she whispered.
Muireall rested her head against the door. “Thank the Lord. I am glad you told me. None of us has said that word, but we were all worried for you, and for your recovery.”
“My debt is to you, Muireall. I defended myself with the dagger you gave me. I killed a man,” she said, and her sister turned to look at her. “I focused on that blade when I thought all was lost and that I would be . . . abused, if not killed. I thought about what you said. That MacTavish women before me had defended themselves and their families. It gave me strength. The thought of you and Aunt Murdoch and Kirsty and Payden and James, and Robbie and Mrs. McClintok, and MacAvoy too. I thought of Mother and Father. I thought of Mr. Pendergast. I thought of all of you when I stuck that blade home.”
“It is a miracle that you lived, Elspeth. We are all thankful for that above all. The horrors you lived through? I am in awe of you. How very brave you were. Mother and Father would be so proud. Now get some rest, Sister.”
Elspeth watched the door close. She stood slowly, walked to the window, and lifted the sash. The air was close and warm and made her think of picnics long ago when she was young. She could hear a neighbor calling to children and the rattle of a buggy as it made its way down the street. She was alive!
Alexander knocked on the door of the Thompson residence just after noontime on Sunday, imagining the family was long returned from church. He stopped by often but had not seen Elspeth since the day she called out to him. She was keeping to her rooms and had not wanted any visitors for more than two weeks. Only her sisters, aunt, and Mrs. McClintok entered her room. He was missing her desperately as he rubbed his knuckles over his chest, trying to lessen the physical pain he felt with her absence.
“Ah, Mr. Pendergast,” Mrs. McClintok said when she opened the door. “You are just in time for dinner.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
She shook her head, and he followed her down the hallway to the dining room. “Mr. Pendergast is here, Miss Thompson. I told him that dinner was just being served.”
“Come in, Mr. Pendergast,” Muireall said. “We’ll make a place for you.”
“Sit down, Pendergast,” James said when Alexander began to protest. “Mrs. McClintok has roasted chicken for us, and there are her famous dumplings too.”
Alexander sat down and unfolded his napkin. As he did, everyone’s attention turned to the door of the dining room, where Elspeth stood. He, Payden, and James immediately stood.
“Elspeth?” Aunt Murdoch laughed. “Did you hear that there were dumplings for dinner?”
She stood in the door, pale and taking deep breaths. She smiled. “I did hear that, Aunt.”
“I’ve taken your place, Miss Thompson,” he said. “Please sit.”
“That’s no problem, Mr. Pendergast. We can easily fit another chair here, between you and her sister,” Mrs. McClintok said and hurried away for a place setting.
James pulled a chair from the side of the room and smiled at her. “Here you are,” he said as he pushed the chair between Alexander and Kirsty.
Alexander waited while she stood at the doorway. Everyone else began talking, he thought perhaps to make her feel that she was not the center of everyone’s focus. He smiled at her and held the back of the chair as she slowly walked toward him. There was some truth to the poet’s saying that time occasionally stopped. It was if the two of them were completely alone and that her arrival at the table had much greater significance than sitting down for a meal.