“Please give me a moment to settle my nerves now that you are here. I am not typically a woman given to emotionaldisplays,” Mrs. Montgomery said. “I left instructions with Curling, my butler, to see that tea and coffee were served when you arrived. He should be here soon.”
“Take your time,” James said in his calm manner. “We are here now, and rest assured, we will help.”
She nodded. “Alastair said you would in the letter he wrote me.” She smiled wanly.
Cecilia noted the use of the earl’s first name. As she surmised, there was a relationship between this woman and the man all society referred to asthe dourearlelse she would not have addressed him by his first name. She patted her hand as she studied the woman. Her thick, dark mahogany-colored hair showed strands of gray at her temples, and faint lines bracketed her eyes, reflecting a person who typically smiled more than they cried in life.
“I’m not sure where to start, to be able to explain everything to you,” she said helplessly.
“Perhaps if we said what we know, which isn’t much, might that help?” Cecilia suggested.
“Yes, please,” Mrs. Montgomery said, her breath coming out in a deep, painful sigh.
She paused as the door opened to admit a young maid with tea and coffee. After they’d been served and the maid had left, Cecilia continued.
“We understood from you when we met you at Lady Amblethorpe’s musicale last December, and from what the Earl of Soothcoor has told us, you knew him from his childhood Scotland visits to Laird Murdoch Graeme, his maternal grandfather.”
She nodded. “He came every summer. He was a good friend to Malcolm—that’s my late husband’s name. The two of them would be off fishing, hunting, and hiking together throughout the summer, and I was the little girl who chased after them. I sowanted to do what they did,” she said, a gentle smile ghosting her lips.
“As we got older, my feelings for Alastair changed. I wanted him to see me as a young woman, not as the pesky girl who trailed after them. Finally, the last summer he came, I was of age. I wore my hair up and was looking forward to being introduced to Scottish society in the fall. And Alastair admitted he’d noticed me. Always had and had been waiting for me to grow up. I was afire for I’d loved him for years. He said he returned my feelings. We were so happy that summer,” she said, smiling at her memories.
Then she grew serious. “But when Alastair approached my father, my father forbade the match. He would not allow any daughter of his to marry aSassenach, even if he was only half-tainted by English blood. He said he had already arranged with Ewan Montgomery that I would marry his son, Malcolm.”
She shook her head at the memory. “I was devastated. Yes, I liked Malcolm well enough as a friend, but to marry?No!”
Cecilia smiled. “You seem rather emphatic for a woman who has had three children from the man.”
Mrs. Montgomery nodded slightly. “You see, though we were all friends, there was always something different about Malcolm,” she said, her voice apologetic.
“Different?” Cecilia prompted.
She nodded. “Sometimes he could seem…different. It was why most people in the area only tolerated Malcolm. They were a bit afraid of him, I think. I didn’t know why.”
“But you weren’t?” James said.
She shook her head. “Our families were close. It just seemed part of Malcolm, of who he was. And Alastair liked him, even if sometimes Malcolm did act differently.”
Cecilia smiled and nodded. “Alastair would.”
“But what about your father? Did he see anything odd in Malcolm?” James asked.
“My father was a good friend of Ewan Montgomery and only saw what he wanted to see: a fine Scottish match for our Montgomery and Fraser families.”
James nodded his understanding. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. “Can you tell us more about Malcolm and his strangeness?”
She compressed her lips together for a moment, then took another sip of her tea, set her cup down, and folded her hands in her lap. “I suppose I must if you are to understand,” Mrs. Montgomery said, “though it has long been carefully hidden and quietly denied,” she explained softly.
Cecilia and James frowned. Cecilia set the cup she’d been about to drink from back in her saucer and leaned forward to listen.
Mrs. Montgomery’s brow furrowed as she looked between Cecilia and James. “Malcolm was smart, yet he was ever a timid soul. Growing up, he was strictly tutor-educated and rarely traveled anywhere. He did not want to go away and resisted the efforts of his father to encourage a greater experience in life. And ultimately, when he did try, he couldn’t handle boarding schools or, later, university.”
“He was bullied,” James suggested.
Mrs. Montgomery shook her head, denying this logical summation. “One would think so, but no. The headmaster at the first boarding school Malcolm had been sent to told Mr. Montgomery that Malcolm had an evil, violent streak in him.”
“Evil and violent?” Cecilia asked incredulously.
She nodded. “It was a surprise to everyone and considered more the fault of the headmaster than Malcolm. When the Montgomerys brought him home, to us, and everyone else, he appeared the same pleasant boy who had gone off to school.After a time, they tried enrolling him in another boarding school. He didn’t last long there either. No one could understand what these prestigious boarding schools were saying. Malcolm, evil? Violent?”
