Chapter 34
Kitty Muirhead
IOPEN MY EYES IN ANOTHER strange room, this time with crossed wooden beams above me.
I’m up in a roof somewhere. Memories swim – faint pictures from the last few days.
I think I’ve been here a while. The room is clean and someone keeps bringing me soup, which I eat, half-conscious, before everything fades again.
I’m waking up now though. I reach for my belly – it feels swollen, and my breasts ache. The bairn – bloody stubborn thing – is still alive then. But where am I?
How could I have ever been daft enough to believe that terrible man would help me? But I will find him, and I will force him to make good on his promise. I’ve got nothing to lose now, have I? I had to follow him.
I climbed inside that cramped wooden trunk with my bag of bread and skin of water.
Clutching the wound in my side that was only just beginning to heal, moving gingerly but as fast as I could to find a concealed space before the Ruthvens’ man came to drive the cart away.
My chance to get away, far away, to the greatest city in Scotland. That is where I belong.
It was so tightly packed in the trunk I couldn’t move; every bump and jolt was agony. I must have passed out soon after we left. And now I’m here, up in the eaves in a room so small, I could touch both walls if I stretched out my arms.
Did I make it to Edinburgh, or did they find me before the journey’s end? There are noises – voices and the clattering of metal on stone, unfamiliar sounds. My hope rises that I’ve made it to the city.
There’s a small window above me. I push back the blanket and swing my legs round.
The pain in my side is a dull ache, not the sharp agony it was.
I hold it as I stand carefully and crane onto my tiptoes to look out.
There’s a narrow street below – and people, so many people.
This must be Edinburgh – for once in my life, something has gone right. I made it.
The door opens and I look round quickly. I recognise the woman who walks in, but it takes a moment for me to remember from where. What is she doing here?
It’s Lady Alvah Gordon, that woman from Dunrobin. ‘Kitty, you’re awake.’ She rushes round the bed to my side and looks me up and down. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Where . . .’ My voice is hoarse. ‘Where am I?’
‘You’re at New-Frater House, the Ruthvens’ home in Edinburgh. You were brought here in a trunk.’
Oh God, of course. The luggage belonged to the Ruthvens and I never made it out.
So, I’m here, with that horrible family.
Why would they let me stay, though? They hate me more than anyone.
The pity and concern on Lady Alvah’s face is sickening, but at least she doesn’t look at me like I’m dung on the ground – I bet it was her who convinced that old bitch Dorothea to let me stay.
Then I remember her skill with plants and healing. ‘Do you have the herbs? Is it time to get rid of this bairn?’
‘I’ve been treating your injuries, Kitty. What made you stow away like that? You could’ve died.’
She’s got no idea, this one – as if I didn’t know death was a real possibility when I crawled into that trunk with a great gash in my side.
But I find myself answering anyway. ‘It was my chance to get away. I had to take it. I had to follow him – he said he’d help me and I have to make him keep his promise. ’
‘The man in the kirkyard – Jamie Bogge? He’s here?’
‘They said he’d left for Edinburgh.’
‘He tried to kill you, Kitty – he’s dangerous.’
‘There are worse things than death,’ I spit back. ‘There’s nothing for me at home – you saw how the countess treats me, like dirt smeared onto her silk shoe. And everyone else is the same – even those no better than I am.’
‘Because of . . . the pearls?’
‘Yes,’ I hiss, ‘because of the pearls. I ask you, Lady Alvah Gordon, what would you have done? If you had nothing at all, not even enough food to eat some days, and you were surrounded by all that wealth, all that waste?’
‘I do understand.’
I know it’s not true but I want to believe her. Looking at the compassion in her eyes, I think maybe this woman knows more than I gave her credit for. But that’s stupid – she’s a lady. They all have it easy.
‘I need to get rid of the bairn and then I’m free. Please help me,’ I say.
She’s quiet for a long while. ‘I’ll help you,’ she says finally. ‘Give me a few days to gather the right herbs, and I will help you.’
Thank God – at last. The relief that floods my body takes me by surprise, like I’ve finally let go of a breath I’ve been holding for months.
‘I’ll ask Lady Dorothea to let you stay for a few more days,’ she says, ‘and I will return with what you need.’