Chapter 50
Kitty Muirhead
IHEAVE MYSELF OUT OF BED. I’m bloody massive and everything aches. Just keep thinking of all that money, I tell myself, enough to go somewhere new, start all over again as a respectable lady, not the lowest of the low.
Lady Alvah says it won’t be long now. The last time she came, to check me over and deliver more of that tea and sweet syrup, she smiled and said, ‘Make your plans, Kitty – you’ll be free soon enough.’
I hate the thought that Bogge will get away with using me like a rag that can be thrown away once it’s dirty, but I’ll have my fresh start.
So I’ll stay in this room until the bairn is ready to join us, the stubborn wee thing.
I couldn’t get rid of it and now it’s the secret to my escape.
Part of me is even sad I’ll never get to know the blighter.
There’ve been moments when I’ve wondered if I’m doing the right thing, whether I should keep the mite.
That’s how bored I am. I wonder what it would feel like to be married, with a husband who cares for me, about to bring this bairn into the world.
Would I feel differently, like it’s less of a pain and more of a gift?
But these thoughts will not help and I shake them away.
I have no husband and no family. I’d be even more of a disgrace than I already am and, anyway, it’s the bairn that’s making me the money I need.
I push these stupid thoughts away – there’s no point dwelling on them.
Lady Alvah’s promised me a hoose in Perthshire.
I spend hours trying on new names for size – maybe I could be a lady, Lady Katherine, a rich newcomer of mysterious origin.
But no, that would draw too much attention; folk would ask questions.
Not a noble then, but respectable, with enough money to pay for plenty of good dresses, her own bread, maybe even spare a penny or two for the local bairns.
I’ll attend kirk twice a week like a good, virtuous woman.
Indeed, I will be a good, virtuous woman.
Nothing that’s happened to me is my fault; it’s not too late to save my soul.
This will be the life I should’ve had all along, one where people look at me with respect and I feel no shame.
Just a few more days of carrying this load.
I put my hands on my swollen body and feel the bairn shifting and rolling before I dress slowly.
I do everything slowly now. Even if I’m not going anywhere, getting dressed passes the time.
This is the finest gown I’ve ever owned and it’s not even for me really.
Like everything else, it’s for the bairn.
The front has an extra panel of fabric to accommodate the child.
Despite my growing size and the difficulty of manoeuvring my body these days, I enjoy it.
I stroke the rich fabric, the embroidery on the sleeves.
When I move to Perthshire, perhaps I’ll keep this one – have the front altered again once the bairn’s gone.
I’ll attract such admiration with my wealth and fine clothes. I imagine walking down the road, approving eyes on me. I’m lost in the fantasy when the door of my chamber flies open and three soldiers, all with swords, burst in.
‘What are you doing . . .?’ I begin but the men walk towards me, weapons raised.
‘Kitty Muirhead,’ the soldier in charge says. ‘Come with us.’
‘What . . . why . . .?’
They ignore me. For all my frustration at having to carry this bairn and being treated like a prisoner in New-Frater House, at least I thought myself safe, under the protection of the powerful Ruthven family. Everything was finally going well.
I should have known it was too good to be true.
The soldier avoids my eyes as he shouts. ‘We’re to take you directly to the cells at the central judiciary court. You’re under suspicion of witchcraft. I warn you, don’t try any of your infernal tricks on me – I will run you through where you stand, bairn or no bairn.’
My blood runs cauld. Witchcraft. How can this be? ‘On what grounds?’ I demand. ‘With what evidence?’
But in the back of my mind, I know exactly what has happened, who has told them this wicked lie. He tried to kill me in the kirkyard and when that didn’t work, he had to find another way.
The soldiers move to flank me on either side, and another stands behind me.
‘Talk to Lady Alvah Gordon. She’s a lady-in-waiting to the Queen. She won’t let you take me.’
But there is no reaction. The soldiers at each elbow grab my arms and pull me towards the door.
Even in my panic, I check the emerald is tucked away, out of sight.
The humiliation is too much. I’ve had months of almost decent treatment here at New-Frater House, and this manhandling as if I’m a beast or a common criminal is too much to bear.
‘Stop,’ I cry desperately. ‘There’s no need to force me – I will come.
’ I shake myself free of their grasp. But the soldier behind me still has the tip of his blade pushed into my back, and the stab of panic it sends through me is enough to force me to obey.
I remember all too well the fangs that tore through my flesh, and the fear of being hurt like that again makes me whimper.
I was so close. So close to freedom, to really living.
‘Come on, witch,’ the soldier says, and they march me out of the bedchamber.