Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
MORRIGAN
The mail coach ran between Edinburgh and Inverness on a daily basis now, and for the past year, its route had been extended all the way to Thurso on Scotland’s northernmost coast. The world was shrinking.
From Inverness, a rider employed by Searc brought the mail every day to Dalmigavie, a convenience unheard of just a few years earlier.
Morrigan knew that since their arrival in the Highlands, Maisie regularly corresponded with the cities in the south.
She exchanged letters with a woman named Ella who ran the meetings of the Female Reform Society in the absence of her and Fiona.
There was also her ongoing communication with various newspapers about the publication of her articles.
From midmorning on, Maisie always stationed herself by the laird’s study and waited for the courier.
On a grey morning at the beginning of December, she delivered a letter that had arrived for Morrigan, much to her surprise.
“Who would write to me here?”
“Perhaps it’s from Mr. Grant.” Maisie’s eyebrows went up and down suggestively. “I’ll leave you to moon over every word.”
The handwriting was unfamiliar, but she had no idea what Aidan’s writing looked like. There was no initial or other mark on the wax seal. Surely, the Grant seal would be recognizable. Morrigan felt somewhat apprehensive as she walked to her window and broke open the letter.
It took only a moment to scan the brief contents, and she grew sicker with every successive line.
Miss Drummond,
I am in urgent need of a small supply of money, exactly one hundred pounds. I am a friend of your uncle Robert Wemys of Perth. More than a friend. I am like his brother. It was in the confidence of our relationship that he confided in me the details of a shocking and sordid event between you two.
Based on his own words, you conducted him with a boldness unbecoming of a young lady into your own bedchamber. Some conversation ensued, he informed me, from which it was quickly apparent to him that certain consolation was welcomed.
I had every intention of relaying this account to a number of newspapers that would pay handsomely for a report about certain women who not only entertain a familial connection with the son of Scotland, but who also have undertaken to have an understanding with a barrister, Mr. Aidan Grant of Carrie House.
Acting out of a sense of profound honour and decency, I wish to offer my assurance to you that such scandalous information should never see the light of day.
I am anxious to receive the slight sum mentioned above and would be honoured to meet with you personally.
At that time, we can settle the matter of my financial needs in person at the auld hunting lodge off the road between Dalmigavie Castle and this city.
If you find this suitable, we can meet on the eighth of December around the hour of ten in the morning.
Until then, madam,
I remain your humble servant,
K. Baker
Her breaths were uneven, anger pushed a scream out of her chest. She had been a victim of villainy.
And now this scoundrel intended to blackmail her.
He would make public a secret that she’d lived with for all these years, an effort made for the sake of the peace of mind of others.
She yanked open her door and charged out.
This worm K. Baker was detestable enough, but it was impossible to fathom how a person could be so vile as to brag about a crime against a child?
And lie about it? She read the letter again.
There was no indication of a date when this occurred.
Was he insinuating that she had been an adult?
Morrigan had heard that Wemys was declining rapidly by the day. But he couldn’t die soon enough to suit her.
“Morrigan?”
She didn’t realize where she’d been going until she came face-to-face with Isabella coming out of her medical room.
“What’s wrong?”
She was too upset to speak, and the words died on her tongue.
Isabella immediately took her hand and pulled her inside, closing the door behind them. She glanced at the letter in her hand. “Did you hear from Aidan?”
“It’s not from him. He has no cause to write to me.” She waved the paper. “But why would a total stranger think there’s something between us?”
Without asking, Isabella took the letter out of her hand and read it. As her fury grew, her face turned a deep shade of crimson.
“Who gave you this?”
“It arrived with the mail this morning.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“Wemys has to be behind this. He lied to some other scoundrel about what he’d done. The vile dog.”
“You must get him to talk about this.”
She was right. If Baker knew, then how many others had Wemys bragged to. He’d pretended he was remorseful and wanted forgiveness. But this proved there was no end to his evil. He’d trumpeted his sins about like a town crier. He was lower than scum.
“It occurs to me that the timing of this is very suspicious. Why now? If he’s known about what happened for all these years, why wasn’t he blackmailing Archibald? Your father would have paid any amount to protect you from public attention.”
“Maybe he thought my father would murder him. There is nothing in here that says this didn’t happen last month or last year.”
“The same thing may happen to the cur now. I’m quite sure Cinaed and Niall and Blair—and Searc as well—would fight one another to be the one putting a bullet between the eyes of this man. You know how highly they all value you.”
Blair would kill without asking why, but the others would need to know the reason. Hurrying toward the tower rooms with Isabella beside her, Morrigan’s mind was on Aidan. His future was being shaped in this moment. The hopes of so many rested on his shoulders. She didn’t want to compromise him.
But how could this Baker know about her connection with Aidan? She supposed that anyone who’d seen them together at the Samhain celebration would suspect they had an attachment.
The letter burned her fingers. Nothing was simple.
There’d be no quick end to this. If Baker’s account was made public, there would be no mention of how young she’d been at the time.
They’d print the lies and say she was an incestuous siren and seducer.
She thought of the caricatures Madam Laborde drew.
They drew attention, regardless of the fact that they were lies and fabrications.
Would there be caricatures of this? How low would they stoop in depicting such a vile event?
Tears blurred her vision, and she brushed them away discreetly.
“Whatever it is, however this needs to be resolved, I’m beside you,” Isabella said as they reached Wemys’s room. “I’ll help you, however you see fit.”
Her heart ached. Morrigan thought she’d closed the door on what had been done to her. She wanted to let him die, put the mess behind her, and look to the future. But the door had been once again kicked open. She was exposed, vulnerable. There was no escape. His viciousness would outlive him.
They passed over the threshold, but she wouldn’t venture in too far. Isabella spoke to the servant who’d been watching Wemys, and the woman quietly slipped out.
The emaciated skeleton of a body was all that remained under the blanket. He was far weaker than the last time she’d seen him. His breathing was labored and erratic, and his mouth moved as if to gulp at the air.
Morrigan watched Isabella go to the bedside. She closed her eyes as she tried to clear her thoughts and decide what she had to do.
Paying Baker wasn’t the answer. Killing him was at best a temporary solution. Someone like him would no doubt have put in place the threat of others to step in with accusations of murder if he didn’t return from the arranged meeting.
She didn’t want to hurt the people she loved.
Morrigan didn’t want what little peace they had to be taken from them.
She didn’t want to put their lives at risk on her behalf.
What if she went away? With her gone, there would be no connection that could harm Aidan at least. He had the most to lose.
When Isabella and Maisie and Morrigan left Edinburgh, they’d been going to Halifax in Canada in order to disappear and start a new life. What if she did that on her own?
She hesitated. This was exactly what her father had done. He’d taken her and run away.
She watched Isabella check on Wemys.
“He’s due to have more laudanum,” she said as she came back to Morrigan. “But I’ll not give him any until he awakens and you speak to him.”
Morrigan had thought a weapon in her hand could protect her. What she needed more at this moment was a clear, strong mind. She needed a strategy to beat rogues like Baker and Wemys at their own twisted game. She sat on a bench by the window, and Isabella sat beside her.
Time ticked slowly by. Isabella refused to leave, even when Morrigan suggested it.
“I failed to be there for you for those first six years when you were in my life. But no more.”
Morrigan felt herself once again able to breathe as the other woman’s arm slipped around her. Mother, sister, friend—Isabella was all of those things to her and more. And right now, it was good to know she wasn’t alone.
How long they waited, she wasn’t sure. But eventually Wemys became more restless.
Weak coughs bubbled up, and bloody froth formed at the corners of his mouth.
Morrigan waited a while longer until the man’s eyes opened.
It took a few moments for him to focus on her.
When he did, a tear ran down his face. His expression reflected fear and defeat and sadness.
“You’re here to witness me crossing over.”
“No.” She handed him the letter. “This arrived today.”
Perhaps it was the time she’d spent with Isabella.
Maybe it was the knowledge that Wemys was dying.
Or acknowledging to herself that she was a fighter.
Whatever it was, a sense of calm possessed her that struck her as surprising, if not miraculous.
For the first time in her life, Morrigan was above the chaos, observing events dispassionately.
She was in control, capable of taking the time to think and make decisions.
Aidan’s strategy had been to use this man’s testimony to counter the government’s charges against the Chattan brothers.
The thought occurred to her that perhaps she could get him to leave behind a letter, a document that stated what he’d done to her.
There would be no secrets to expose then. Everyone would know the truth.
But did she have the strength to face this scandal here in Scotland? To fight this ongoing evil that haunted her? Or should she run? Even as the question crossed her mind, Isabella appeared at her side and took her hand.
Morrigan knew the answer before the complete thought formed. She would stay. She would fight. That was who she was.
The simple task of holding up the paper to his eyes took great effort. His hand shook. She watched his face as he read it. Finally, Wemys let the missive drop.
Morrigan picked it up. “How? How could Baker know? What are the lies you told him?”
He closed his eyes and tried to force air into his wasted lungs. Finally, he managed to get out a few hoarse words.
“That letter in your hand. It’s not from Baker. He’s just a tool. A messenger. Burney is behind this.”
Morrigan felt the ground tilt under her. “How could Burney know what you did to me?”
He averted his gaze. He couldn’t look at her. “Your father came looking for me. I was hiding in Baker’s rooms. In Perth. He left a letter. He threatened to kill me for . . . for what I’d done to you.”
Morrigan thought about her father leaving and going back to Perth. He’d packed his pistol. She was certain he would have killed Wemys if he’d found him.
“Baker had me confess what I’d done. He stole your father’s letter and later gave it to Burney.”
“Why?”
“We both went to work for him not long after. Burney collected information on everyone. He paid well for anything he could use against his enemies.”
He coughed so violently that for a moment Morrigan thought he’d never take another breath. It took a few moments to recover.
“That is Burney’s way. He ferrets out secrets, then twists them, creates scandal where there is none.
That’s how he gets people to work for him.
And keep working.” Wemys fought to take in air.
“The old fox is using it now to get at you. He’s created a story so shocking that it ruins you and everyone around you before you have a chance to explain.
But all of it is a test. He’s waiting to see how you react. If you pay, he knows he has you.”
“And if I don’t pay?”
“He still has you.”
Morrigan thought of the caricatures. Could she live with herself if her likeness was at the center of one of those flyers pasted to so many walls?
“Beat him at his own game.” Wemys groaned in pain. He was growing weaker. “He’s thrown you a line. Grab hold of it. Yank the fox out of his hole. These Mackintoshes will know what to do with him.”
She had so many questions now. She wanted to know as much about Burney as she could learn. Wemys talked to her. He told her what he could remember until he could go on no longer.
Isabella gave him another dose of laudanum to lessen his pain. The two women stayed at his bedside as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Then, at sunset, he stopped breathing altogether.