Chapter 20
‘YOU WERE SEEN TALKING TO Kitty Muirhead at the stables today, Lady Jean,’ Mary Ruthven fires across the dining table accusingly.
Jean takes a leisurely mouthful of roasted salmon before replying. ‘Not much escapes you does it, Mary? Were you following us?’
‘Of course not,’ Mary snaps, ‘but news travels fast. What did she want? I must say I’m surprised you give that woman the time of day.’
‘Kitty Muirhead.’ Dorothea looks up from her plate. ‘Wasn’t that the dreadful girl you had to let go, Jean?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
Elspet looks at her dish of salmon in a fragrant buttery sauce. She’s hungry after a day out riding, but the furious desperation in Kitty Muirhead’s eyes has stayed with her and somehow, she doesn’t feel like eating.
Beatrix has no qualms about demanding more information. ‘What happened? Why did you let her go?’
Jean sighs. ‘Kitty Muirhead is a difficult one. Johanna, her mother, was my cook for a long while. When she brought her daughter into service with me, I fear my affection for Johanna meant Kitty got away with more than she should.’
‘I’ll say,’ Atholl says. ‘I remember her. The insubordination was quite something when we were here for the hunts last year.’
‘I see,’ Beatrix says. ‘My duties for the Queen kept me from Dunrobin last summer.’
‘It was an unpleasant affair,’ Jean says.
‘I had no choice but to let her go in the end. Johanna pleaded her daughter’s case, of course, but there’s only so much I can tolerate.
It was a terrible business. I have wondered if Johanna’s grief for the choices her daughter was making contributed to her premature death. ’
Dorothea takes a delicate mouthful of her fish. ‘I feel dreadful about it.’ She shakes her head sadly.
‘Why should you feel dreadful, Mother?’ Beatrix asks.
‘The incident that precipitated Kitty’s leaving Dunrobin was during my last visit. She was assigned to me for the duration of my stay, to help me dress and so forth. Her rudeness was shocking. But the last straw came when my pearls went missing.’
‘She stole your pearls?’ Beatrix’s eyes are wide.
‘Well, I think so . . .’ Dorothea begins.
‘Of course she took them,’ Mary cuts in. ‘Dilly saw her with them. Who else could it have been? They use them in their rituals, you know. I must say I feel quite nervous knowing that woman is still hanging around.’
Elspet looks up sharply. Why would Kitty be doing any rituals? And what ritual would even require the use of pearls? She’s never heard of such a thing. Then again, she’s never had any pearls, so the opportunity has never presented itself.
‘What rituals?’ Beatrix asks, clearly fascinated.
‘Something to do with using pearls on a full moon,’ Mary says. ‘Absolutely diabolical.’
‘I must say,’ Atholl declares with a commanding air, ‘I agree with Mary. We know what this woman is rumoured to be involved with. I wonder at the wisdom of allowing her to stay on your estate, Lady Jean.’
Beatrix clears her throat. Thank God she’s asking all the questions Elspet wishes she could. ‘What is this woman involved with?’
‘She’s one of a number who’ve been seduced by a dark faith and are plotting against the King right here in Sutherland,’ Atholl says. ‘You must not trust anything she says.’
Elspet remembers Lady Jean’s words on the day she arrived – that what begins as nonsense may grow into more, that the dark powers the King believes witches have may be the very thing that entices people to take a sinful path.
Is Kitty connected with the man orchestrating infernal rituals in the kirkyards? It hardly seems possible.
‘How shocking,’ Beatrix exclaims.
‘This is speculation,’ Lady Jean says sharply. ‘We have no idea if Kitty is involved with all that.’
‘I’m afraid it’s true,’ Atholl insists. ‘I’ve been taking an interest myself.
Locals have found their sinister props left behind in the kirkyards – likenesses of the King fashioned from wax or fabric, small pieces of metal they call elfshot, even some bones they believed to be human that are used in these rituals.
It’s only a matter of time before we can present the case to the King – it won’t do us any harm to gain some trust at court by showing commitment to his cause. ’ He smiles smugly at his wife.
‘They use human bones in their rituals?’ Even Beatrix is shocked, despite her boundless appetite for melodrama.
‘It makes one grateful for the King’s passion for stamping out the scourge of witchcraft,’ Mary says.
‘At least it’s one thing he’s committed to,’ Atholl mutters under his breath. Mary sends him a warning glance.
‘What evidence did you find?’ Beatrix asks.
Atholl shakes his head. ‘You’ll have to trust me, sister.’
Beatrix looks at her brother-in-law with raised eyebrows. Trust is clearly not something she feels for him. ‘It is quite an accusation, brother. I wonder if you might be mistaken?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Beatrix,’ Mary shoots back. ‘You never were a good judge of character.’
Margaret sits up even straighter in her chair and turns to Mary. ‘On the contrary, having spent the last few weeks with your sister, I have learnt she is an excellent judge of character. It is one of her many good qualities.’
Dorothea and Mary’s eyes fly to Margaret, but nobody looks more surprised than Beatrix. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers.
Margaret looks embarrassed. ‘Well, I speak the truth.’
‘I see Beatrix has succeeded where we all failed.’ Mary laughs. ‘To make a friend of the high and mighty heiress Lady Margaret Livingston.’
Margaret inhales as if she’s about to speak but Dorothea beats her to it. ‘Mary, that’s enough. Lady Margaret, I’m delighted you and Beatrix have become friends.’
Mary’s cheeks turn red. ‘Don’t tell me what’s enough, Mother. I am the Countess of Atholl now. You can’t speak to me like I’m a child.’ She looks to her husband for support.
Atholl stares awkwardly at his salmon. Elspet remembers Beatrix’s description of her brother-in-law – the man bends like willow to whoever has the political upper hand. It seems he’s been chastened enough and will not take his wife’s side.
Lady Jean is the first to break the silence. ‘We got a great many kills today. That is grounds for celebration, at least.’
‘Indeed,’ Dorothea agrees. ‘I was thrilled with the crossbow – you’re quite right, Jean, it’s an effective weapon.’
‘I killed twelve of the beasts,’ Atholl interjects proudly. ‘I’ve picked up many skills from your marshal, Lady Jean. He is most proficient.’
‘I hope we’ve made the kirkyards safe once more,’ Jean says, ‘but tomorrow I must ask you to miss the day’s hunting. The cherries in my orchard are ripe and need to be harvested.’
‘Surely that’s work for the servants?’ Lady Mary says.
Jean rolls her eyes. ‘You need not join us if you don’t want to, Mary.’
‘My wife and I shall hunt as normal,’ Atholl says firmly. ‘Your hospitality is wonderful and most appreciated. But she’s quite right – we can’t be expected to tend to trees.’
‘I can think of no finer way to pass the time than tending to trees,’ Jean returns flatly. ‘I assume the rest of you will be happy to join me?’
‘In gathering cherries?’ Margaret asks.
Mary laughs. ‘I can’t see Lady Margaret Livingston up a ladder in your orchard, Lady Jean.’
‘I have fond memories of picking cherries at Dunrobin,’ Dorothea says. ‘I should be delighted to join you.’
‘Really, Mother,’ Mary says. ‘Is that respectable?’
‘One of the joys of being here, away from court,’ Dorothea says with a conspiratorial smile, ‘is that we needn’t worry quite as much about respectability.’
Elspet doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. In just three days, she will begin her journey to the court of the King and Queen of Scotland. She’s come so far in her short time in Dunrobin, but this all seems unreal. The delicious-looking salmon on her plate remains untouched.