Chapter 17
Laura went back to her chamber then sat on the bed and looked around for a while.
When she had first arrived, the room had been plainly furnished, with no pictures, no vases of flowers and no ornaments.
However, in the short time she had been there Charlotte had brought some paintings of local landscapes to adorn the walls and the Aunties had gifted her some figurines and crystal vases.
It had become home, and it would have broken Laura’s heart to leave it if it had not already been irreparably damaged by having to say goodbye to Nicholas and Andrew. She lay back on her bed, looking at the ceiling and reliving the ultimate joy of making love with Nicholas.
Laura knew that it was the one memory that would sustain her for the rest of her life, for there would never be another.
She simply could not countenance the thought of lying with another man—ever.
That one night of passion was all there would ever be.
How could anything else surpass what she had felt at that moment?
She wondered if the news that she was not Andrew’s mother had begun to make its way around the castle yet. Had Nicholas told Kenneth and Charlotte? He must have, and by some mysterious process the news would leak out and she would be even more despised by the servants than she already was.
‘What does it matter, Laura?’ she thought sadly. ‘You care nothing for these people’s opinions.’ Yet that was simply not true, because it was only now that she realised how much she loved this place and how much she wanted to stay.
And where was she going to go now? She did not have the faintest idea where to make for or how to get there. She had no horse, no carriage, and unless a kind farmer offered her a ride on his cart, which was highly unlikely, her only means of transport was her two feet.
Perhaps she could rent a cottage in the village and work somewhere in the vicinity so that she could see Andrew from time to time. She could throw herself on their mercy—they were all good people, after all.
Yet she dismissed the notion at once as completely foolish. The last look Nicholas had given her had been one of complete derision and scorn, and somehow she knew that he was not a man who forgave easily. Her deception had hurt him badly, and she doubted that he would ever change his mind.
With this thought, Laura stood up and began to pack her valise with her few possessions, then counted the money she had left.
If she was careful, ate sparingly and slept in barns or stables instead of inns, Laura thought she could last another month, but she would have to find employment of some sort.
Could she go back to her family? She gave a cynical laugh as she thought of it. Her mother and father had refused even to look in her direction on the day she left; they were so ashamed of her that they would never welcome her back. ‘Not that they ever loved me anyway,’ she thought bitterly.
Laura took one last look around the bedchamber. Her eyes lingered on the bed as she remembered Nicholas lying on it, watching her as she crossed the room, a wicked smile on his face.
Abruptly, she snatched up her valise then turned and left the room without looking behind her again. She would treasure her memories, but she would be unable to make any more of them.
Laura had decided that the last place she would visit would be the nursery, and the last face she would see would be that of little Andrew. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of saying goodbye to the child. She had come to love him as dearly as if she had actually carried him in her womb.
When she entered the room she found, to her surprise and dismay, that Charlotte was seated there beside Maisie, discussing matters pertaining to her pregnancy.
Maisie was feeding her own baby while Andrew was sleeping peacefully in his crib.
Maisie got to her feet and left hastily, barely looking at Laura as she passed her.
Charlotte stared at Laura for a moment, her eyes full of anger and hurt.
“You have heard about the baby’s mother?” Laura asked. She knew the answer already, of course, but needed to have it confirmed.
Charlotte nodded. “Yes, I heard.” She said nothing more, and somehow the lack of condemnation made Laura feel even worse, if that were possible.
“I am truly sorry to have deceived you,” Laura told her. “I could not think of any other course of action. Thank you for everything, Charlotte, you have been a wonderful friend to me, and I hope you can forgive me, but I certainly understand if you cannot.”
She waited, but Charlotte was still silent.
Laura looked over to the baby, then moved over to the crib to pick him up. Andrew gave a tiny sigh and snuggled into her arms, and Laura looked down into his tiny face, her heart breaking anew.
“Goodbye, my lovely child,” she murmured, as tears ran unchecked down her face.
“I will always love you, but I must say goodbye to you now. You will never know how much you mean to me because you will not remember me, but you will be in my heart forever. Your father will look after you and see that you grow up to be as good and strong a man as he is. He is so proud of you, and so am I. I love you, Andy.” Then Laura placed a soft kiss on his forehead and turned to put him back in his crib, but Charlotte stopped her, holding out her arms.
“Let me hold him for a while,” she said softly. Laura placed the infant in Charlotte’s arms and felt her throat ache with tears as she tried to fix the image of his dear little face in her mind’s eye.
Laura would never see him learning to crawl or walk, never hear him uttering his first word.
He would never call her his mother, and why should he?
She would mean nothing to him, and no doubt Nicholas would marry, and some other woman who was much worthier than she was would take over his life and give him the love he needed.
“I forgive you, Laura,” Charlotte said gently. “You did what you had to do, and I doubt I could have done any better had I been in your shoes.”
Laura smiled through her tears and nodded her thanks, for she had lost the power of speech. Then, with one last loving glance at the baby, she turned and left without looking back.
She made her way out to the gate, hoping to see Nicholas, but he was nowhere to be found: she would never see him again.
When she started her journey, the weather was dry and warm, although heavy bruise-coloured clouds promised rain later.
It was two miles to the village, but it might as well have been a hundred, as Laura trudged along, dispirited and utterly miserable.
Her valise was heavy and her arm began to ache after she had gone only a few hundred yards along the road, and she stopped to rest for a moment.
She was about to pick up her bag and resume her journey when she heard a harsh male voice yelling from the side of the path. “Dinnae move!”
Laura whipped around and a bolt of terror shot through her as she saw a tall, sandy-haired man with a deep scar on one of his cheeks coming towards her, holding a dirk with a gleaming, lethal-looking blade. As she froze in fear, three other armed men emerged from behind him and surrounded her.
“You’re coming with us,” the first man said, grabbing her arm. “And don’t give us any trouble, Sassenach”
“What do you want with me?” Laura replied in a trembling voice.
He laughed coldly, looking her up and down suggestively. “I could think of a few things,” he replied, “but they will have to wait. Percival Crowley wants to see you.”
Laura’s heart sank. The man gave her a cruel smile then yanked on her arm to pull her towards him, after which he pushed her forwards so that she was walking a few paces in front of him.
Even though it was not actually touching her, Laura could feel the point of the dirk at her back, and it was all she could do to stop herself from weeping in fear, but she resolutely refused to give in, even though she knew what awaited her.
Silently, she said goodbye to Andrew and Nicholas for the last time, because she knew she would not come out of this encounter alive. Strangely, she felt resigned and at peace, and her fear went away. What was there to be afraid of now? Death was the end of all pain.
Crowley was standing under the shade of a fir tree drinking ale from a cup as he watched Laura coming towards him. He smiled, but it was not a smile of welcome. No, it was cold, cruel and cynical, and as he moved towards her she could see the malice in his dark eyes.
“Well, Laura, we meet again,” he drawled. “I would say it is good to see you, but that would be a lie. I am very, very disappointed in you.”
Laura said nothing, merely looked at him expressionlessly. If he had hoped to anger or intimidate her, he had failed, and as she watched him his smug expression changed to one of pure rage.
“We had a bargain,” he reminded her. He had moved so close to her that only a few feet separated them. “You were supposed to bring Charlotte to me or have you forgotten?”
“No,” she replied calmly.
“Then you are not a woman of your word,” he declared.
“Obviously not,” she agreed, watching Crowley’s frown deepen. He was trying to insult her, to provoke her, but his barbs were not having the desired effect. Laura was not angry, and neither did she show any fear; her calm indifference was infuriating him.
“I should kill you,” he growled, taking a threatening step towards her.
Laura shrugged. “Go ahead,” she replied. “I have nothing to live for anyway. Do your worst.”
Laura almost laughed out loud at the shocked expression on Crowley’s face. Clearly, whatever he had expected, it was not this kind of reaction. However, a moment later he rallied and said, “No, your corpse would be no good to me, Laura. You are far more useful to me alive.”
He stared at her for one more moment then reached into his pocket and drew out a sealed letter which he handed to one of his men. “Cairnlochan Castle,” he said. “For the attention of Laird Kenneth Grant.”
Nicholas, Charlotte and Kenneth were all seated in Kenneth’s study. Nicholas was uncharacteristically distracted and looked utterly miserable as he received Kenneth’s instructions about strengthening patrols around the estate, and Charlotte looked at him with concern.
She was about to ask him a question when the message arrived, delivered by a very angry-looking guard. Kenneth took one look at the seal. “It’s from that scunner Crowley,” he announced grimly. He tore open the letter, a thunderous frown on his face.
“Read it.” Charlotte’s voice was urgent and filled with fear: she had the most dreadful premonition of doom; anything connected with Crowley usually spelled trouble.
“My Laird Grant,” Kenneth read. “I have Laura Whitcombe in captivity at my camp near Cairnlochan, but she will come to no harm as long as my terms are met.
If they are not, I will have her executed and I will tell the Whitcombes that you are responsible for her death.
They are a very powerful family and will seek vengeance.
I have matters to discuss with you, but I will only speak to Charlotte, she knows where to find me.
If I do not hear from her before tomorrow Laura Whitcombe will be shot.
Her fate is in your hands. I await your prompt reply.
“Yours sincerely, Lieutenant Percival Crowley.”
Kenneth’s voice was trembling with rage as he read the words, and as he looked up at Nicholas and Charlotte he could see that they were both pale and frozen with shock.