Chapter 14
The Second Infiltration
The next evening, Penelope released Diana from the reading before the end of the chapter.
"My head is tired," she said, closing her eyes.
Diana marked the page.
"Shall I have an infusion prepared?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly for a woman claiming to be unwell. Penelope stayed in her chair by the fire in dark blue wool. On the table were two sealed letters and a leather bag Diana had never seen.
Eliza came in carrying a pile of folded clothes.
"The traveling gown is out," she said. "The dark cloak and the leather boots as well."
Penelope opened her eyes.
"I asked for discretion."
"Which is why I didn't come down the stairs announcing that you mean to travel."
Diana lowered her face to hide the reaction.
Eliza set the clothes on a chair.
"Ellis wants to know whether to have the larger trunk made ready."
"The smaller one."
"And the hatbox?"
"It stays."
Eliza nodded and gathered the gown Penelope had worn that afternoon.
A journey with little baggage. Hard-wearing clothes. No hat fit for calls.
Penelope was preparing a quick departure.
"Miss Whitmore," she said, turning to Diana. "I left my smelling salts in my rooms. Bring them."
The order offered access to the room with the ease of an open door. Diana stood.
"Naturally."
In the corridor, Eliza caught her before the stairs.
"The salts are on the chest of drawers," she murmured. "The maid saw them."
"Then Penelope knows exactly where they are."
"Yes."
Diana went on up.
"Keep the housekeeper out of the corridor."
"I've already had all the linen that needs mending set out."
"How long?"
"Until she works out that half of it doesn't. Ten minutes."
Eliza took a firmer hold on the pile of clothes.
"Diana."
She stopped.
The humor had gone out of her sister's face.
"If Penelope finds you—"
"She will want to know what I was looking for."
"And if she decides she knows enough already?"
Diana thought of Malcolm in the yard and of the promise to use Eliza to force her to lead men to the clan.
"Then find a way out of the house."
"Not without you."
"Eliza."
"No."
The way the word came out belonged to the Frasers, with no attempt at English pronunciation.
Diana touched her sister's arm.
"Ten minutes."
Eliza did not agree. She only moved off toward the service stairs.
Penelope's rooms took up the quietest part of the third floor. Diana went in without lighting another candle. The light from the corridor reached the chest of drawers, where a small silver bottle waited beside the glass.
Too easy.
She picked up the salts and left the door ajar.
The writing desk stood by the window. Over the months of service Diana had read correspondence at that table, arranged invitations, and translated passages of French that Penelope claimed not to understand. The top drawer was usually kept locked.
That night the key was in the lock.
Diana turned it.
The first drawer held paper, sealing wax, and two new pens. The second had household accounts. In the third she found a purse full of coin, two letters of credit, and an envelope with Boyd's name on it.
She opened it.
The message ran to four lines.
Smaller quay. Warehouse by the ropewalk. The box goes out by the service door at half past ten. The light coach is to be ready before eleven.
Diana read it once more and put the paper back in the exact position.
The transfer would happen that night.
The clock in the corridor said nine.
She opened the leather bag she had seen by the fire. It was empty, but the inside had compartments for documents and money. Penelope meant to take it with her.
At the bottom of the wardrobe, behind two silk gowns, a small trunk stood ready. A wool gown, underclothes, a pair of unornamented shoes, and a lined cloak took up very little space. Nothing suitable for the circle Penelope kept in Inverness.
Under the clothes, Diana found a traveling cloak folded beside a document issued by a trading house on the coast. It confirmed advance payment of passage for one lady, one companion, and two pieces of baggage.
The destination had been left out.
The date was two days old.
Penelope had planned to leave Scotland before the reception ever happened.
Diana put the document back and closed the trunk. The lid came down with a dry sound.
Steps came in the corridor.
She went back to the desk, shut the last drawer, and took out the key.
The door opened.
Penelope came in without the maid, without the cloak, and without any sign of the headache that had interrupted the reading.
Her eyes went over the bottle in Diana's hand, the desk, and the wardrobe.
"You found the salts."
"They were where Eliza said."
Penelope shut the door.
"And still you took your time."
"The bottle was nearly empty. I looked for another."
"In my drawers?"
Diana set the salts on the chest of drawers.
"I did not find one."
Penelope walked to the desk and touched the key.
"Did you also fail to find what you were looking for here?"
Denial would have required a conviction neither of them had.
"I found accounts, money, and correspondence from suppliers."
"A devoted companion should know that private correspondence forms no part of her duties."
"My duties change with some frequency in this house."
Penelope took the key out and put it in her pocket.
"When I engaged you, I was told you were the daughter of an English widow."
"I am the daughter of an Englishwoman."
"A carefully incomplete answer."
Diana held her gaze.
"Did you always know?"
"I knew something was wrong."
"In our story?"
"In the two of you."
Penelope sat down in front of the glass and took a pin out of her hair.
"Your pronunciation is excellent, provided you are reading or discussing the weather. When someone is injured, your orders stop belonging to Northumberland."
Diana did not answer.
"Eliza lets a few vowels escape as well when she loses patience," Penelope went on. "Particularly when she speaks to you and believes no one is listening."
Another pin went onto the chest of drawers.
"I did not know the name Fraser. Malcolm supplied that part."
Diana kept her hands loose at her sides.
"And the chain confirmed it."
"The chain confirmed the father. The rest the two of you confirmed when you came back after six days gone."
"If you were certain, why did you permit us to stay?"
Penelope met her eyes in the glass.
"Because women without money are useful. Women hiding a surname are more careful still."
"You have confused care with obedience."
"No. I have always distinguished the two."
Penelope began to take her hair down.
Her calm was more dangerous than Malcolm's voice in the yard. Malcolm wanted to crush resistance until he got an answer. Penelope preferred to let people choose the direction she had already prepared.
Diana looked at the traveling bag.
"You intend to leave."
"We all depart at some point."
"With little more than one gown and two letters of credit?"
Penelope smiled at the glass.
"Then you found more than salts."
"Enough."
"And will you tell Alistair MacLeod?"
His name in Penelope's mouth brought an immediate cold.
"I have no dealings with Laird MacLeod."
"Of course."
"Malcolm has already attempted that question."
"Malcolm threatens when he should observe. It is one of the reasons he will never have what he wants."
Diana thought of the map.
"And what do you want?"
Penelope picked up the hairbrush.
"Choices."
"For yourself."
"The only ones a sensible woman can rely upon."
"The map does not belong to you."
"Belong is a word used by people who manage to keep things."
The first stroke of the brush went down through her hair.
"The MacLeods have lost the castle, the routes, and the parchment. Malcolm has lost the ability to distinguish alliance from use. You have lost the protection of an English name."
Diana came a step closer.
"I am still using it."
"For the present."
The clock struck a quarter past nine.
A little more than an hour was left before the box went out.
Eliza had to have the information.
"Shall I return to the drawing room?" Diana asked.
Penelope went on brushing her hair.
"Did you find the hour?"
Diana's heart beat hard. Nothing in the way she stood changed.
"The hour of what?"
"Make a better effort."
"You left the key in the drawer and sent me up here. You do not appear concerned about what I might find."
The brush stopped.
Penelope turned slowly.
"At last, a conclusion worthy of you."
Diana understood.
The access had been offered. The key, left. Even the salts on the chest of drawers were there to make sure she came in.
"You wanted to know what I would do."
"I knew what you would do. I wanted to know how long it would take."
"Why?"
"Because I now know that the MacLeods are still near Inverness and that you possess a way of reaching them in under an hour."
The distance to the door seemed greater.
Penelope set the brush on the table.
"You may go."
"As simple as that?"
"You may return to the drawing room," Penelope said. "Take the salts. We have not finished the reading."
Diana picked up the bottle.
"If you know I will warn them, why do you let me leave this room?"
"Because I want to see what Alistair MacLeod does with the information."
There was a trap in it. Diana could see that much and not its shape.
The hour in the note might be false. The box might leave by a different door. Perhaps the warehouse was already surrounded.
Even so, there was no time to wait for certainty.
She opened the door.
"Miss Whitmore."
Diana looked back.
Penelope had taken up the brush again.
"Your father taught you to treat the wounded. Your mother taught you to hide what you were. Neither of them appears to have taught you when a cause has become too dangerous."
Diana held the door handle.
"Perhaps because I already knew."
In the corridor she found Eliza coming out of the linen room with a list in her hands.
"Were the salts well hidden?" her sister asked.
"Smaller quay. Warehouse by the ropewalk. The box goes out at half past ten."
Eliza did not slow down.
"The washerwoman's still in the kitchen."
"Use the repair list. Mark the third hem urgent."
"And Penelope?"
"She knows I found it."
Eliza looked at her.
"Then the hour's no good anymore."
"It holds until she can change it. We need to warn both of them."
"Both?"
"Alistair and Graeme."
"Can Graeme pass on information without trying to argue with it?"
"We will find out."
Eliza went down by the service stairs.
Diana left the salts on the table in the drawing room and took her place beside the book. A few minutes later Penelope came in with her hair pinned up again and sat down near the fire.
"Continue," she said.
Diana opened the book at the marked page.
The words followed one another in front of her without leaving any sense behind. Beyond the doors, Eliza had to reach the kitchen, work the note into the list, and see the washerwoman out before Ellis closed the house.
Penelope listened with her eyes half closed.
Ten minutes later, steps crossed the hall. The back door opened and closed.
The message was out.
Diana went on reading.
Penelope raised a hand.
"Enough."
She rang the bell.
Ellis appeared almost at once.
"My lady?"
Penelope drew a small sheet out of her sleeve, folded it, and pressed her personal seal into the wax while it was still soft.
"Deliver this to Mr. MacPherson."
Ellis took the note.
"At the house by the river?"
"Wherever you need to find him. He alone is to read it."
The servant left the room.
Diana closed the book.
The information she had sent the MacLeods could still lead them to the map.
It would also lead them exactly where Penelope wanted them.