Chapter 45
Elspet Balfour
NO SOONER ARE THEY OUT in the busy Edinburgh street than Elspet regrets her offer. Kitty has a way of drawing unwanted attention, even in the fine clothing lent to her by Lady Dorothea.
‘What are you looking at?’ Kitty growls at a woman passing as they leave New-Frater House.
The woman looks shocked and hurries past. Kitty’s coming out of a fine hoose, and has been groomed to look like a lady, but her voice is loud and aggressive.
Elspet steers her quickly up the Canongate hill and away from Holyrood, trying to shrink herself into the edge of the wide street as they enter the main thoroughfare.
The last thing she needs is to give folk a reason to look twice at them.
But Kitty, let out of her chamber for the first time in weeks, wants to be at the centre of things, and leads them back into the middle of the street among the hurrying crowds.
Terrified someone from court will see them, Elspet steers Kitty off Canongate as quickly as she can, down one of the narrow side wynds.
It is quieter here. Beside her, Kitty’s breathing is laboured already after a short walk.
She holds out her arm to offer support, but Kitty rolls her eyes and walks on stubbornly.
‘How have you been feeling?’ Elspet asks gently. They’re passing a meat shop and she walks carefully around the blood and offal on the stone cobbles, holding her hand over her nose to keep out the rotten smell.
‘Boggin,’ Kitty says sullenly. ‘I’m so bored, I could die. And I’m getting bigger every day.’
Elspet feels a flash of guilt. It’s hardly surprising that Kitty short of breath – she’s barely moved her body for weeks.
Kitty shouldn’t be cooped up like an animal just to fulfil a task for them.
Although, she reminds herself, confinement to one room seems to be the expected state for fine ladies in this condition.
They make their way slowly down the wynd, close with high buildings on either side. They’re less exposed here but, looking up, her heart sinks. A familiar figure is walking towards them. She recognises the skipping step and short, round stature of Alexander Barclay, the apothecary.
She quickly turns to look into the window of a merchant’s shop. ‘Look at the sugar confectionary, Kitty,’ she says quietly, hoping the apothecary will pass by without noticing them, but realises her mistake too late.
‘Lady Alvah Gordon.’ The voice of Barclay is at her ear. ‘What brings you to my humble shop?’ He’s speaking to her, but his darting eyes look Kitty Muirhead up and down.
Confectionary. Of course, this is where Barclay plies his trade. One of his trades, at least. ‘Barclay.’ She keeps her voice even and light. ‘Your produce looks delicious. We must be moving along though.’
Before she can walk away, Kitty speaks up. ‘I want some sugar confectionary. Why shouldn’t I eat some of the fine things everyone scoffs up at the palace?’
Barclay’s eyebrows rise in surprise and his eyes narrow to scrutinise Kitty once more. He looks at her face, down to her stomach, then back again. ‘And you are?’
Elspet speaks quickly – she kens any attempt to describe Kitty as a lady will be unconvincing. ‘This is Katherine – a new servant at New-Frater House. I’ve agreed to show her around.’
‘You’re giving a tour to a servant? How novel. But surely the city must still be new to you yourself, Lady Alvah?’ Barclay smiles obsequiously.
‘Exactly,’ Elspet says. ‘I’ve had to get to know the city over the last few weeks. I’m happy to show Katherine what I’ve learnt.’
Kitty glowers at this exchange. Elspet kens she will hate to have been called a servant, but really she had no choice about that.
‘Confectionary,’ Kitty says stubbornly, like a child. ‘I want some.’
‘You’re a very forward sort of a servant,’ Barclay says. ‘Wherever did they find you?’
Elspet stifles a sigh, trying to think of a suitable response that will stop Kitty from saying something that will make this situation even worse.
Kitty, though, is silent. She grasps Elspet’s arm tightly, her eyes wide. Elspet turns to follow her gaze to a point across the wynd, and stifles a gasp. The Earl of Bothwell stands, eyes fixed on them – and the horror on Kitty’s face is reflected in his expression.
‘Bothwell.’ Barclay raises his hand in greeting to the disgraced Earl. ‘You should get yourself off the street before someone loyal to the King sees you. Come around the back wynd to the shop if I can do anything for you.’
But Bothwell is not looking at Barclay – he’s staring at Kitty, and there’s no sign of his usual swagger. He looks as frightened as she does.
‘You!’ Kitty says, storming over the wynd, finger pointed. ‘You lied to me. After everything I did for you.’ Elspet hurries after her and puts a hand on Kitty’s arm, but she will not be stopped.
Bothwell backs away, alarmed. Even as he responds, his eyes dart between Kitty and Elspet. ‘What are you talking about? I have no idea who . . .’
The panic in his eyes tells Elspet everything she needs to know.
Margaret was right. Elspet feels a wave of disgust, towards him and towards herself – if she hadn’t ignored her instincts about this man, she probably would’ve known this a long time ago.
Bothwell is the man doing dreadful things in the kirkyards of Sutherland, the man who treated Kitty so appallingly.
‘Don’t you dare pretend,’ Kitty spits. ‘You said you’d help me. You will pay for this.’
Bothwell recovers himself and steps forward, towering over Kitty threateningly. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Tell whoever you like.’
‘What?’ Kitty falters. ‘If the King knew what you’d . . .’
Bothwell cuts her off. ‘You fool. The King has banished me once more. Your threats have no power.’
Kitty’s body visibly slumps.
‘You’ve got more courage than I gave you credit for,’ Bothwell goes on with a bitter laugh, ‘but I need all the coin I can get. You’re mad if you think I’ll give any to you.’
Elspet feels fury course through her body. ‘The things you’ve done . . .’ Her words fail her and she trails off as anger turns to sadness.
Bothwell fixes her with that now-familiar piercing gaze. ‘We all have our secrets. It seems neither of us is quite what we seem, Lady Alvah.’ And with that, he stalks away down the wynd.
‘Good day to you, then,’ Barclay calls after him.
Fear leaps in Elspet’s chest – what does he mean? What does he know? Luckily, Kitty is too distracted to pay any attention to what he’s just said.
Elspet steers the silent, wilting woman in the opposite direction, away from Barclay’s inquisitive gaze. They turn again and again down the labyrinth of streets, stopping in front of a fish shop. The smell of salt and fish guts assaults Elspet’s nostrils as she turns to Kitty’s stricken face.
The defeated woman looks up weakly to meet her gaze. ‘I have no choice, do I? I will sell you my bairn.’