‘Ah’ll hae a word wi’ ma da an’ see if he can come up wi’ some ideas.’ Brendon laughed ruefully. ‘That’s another thing he be good at - tellin’ stories…’
‘We dinnae want the MacFarlane to know the good Reverend is connected to Caerlaverock in any way,’ added Malcolm. ‘An’ the same fer ye, Brendon. If the chieftain knows ye be workin’ fer the Duke o’ Blackmore, he’ll likely string ye up.’
Brendon nodded with a grimace. ‘Aye, the bampot hates the Sinclairs wi’ a passion.’
Peter sighed. ‘Why don’t we reconvene here on the morrow after everyone’s had a chance to think about possible reasons for Grandpapa to be visiting clan MacFarlane and how he can get close enough to the mine to see what’s happening?’
Jennifer turned to the Reverend who was slowly going a dark shade of puce. ‘All you need to do, Grandpapa, is find out what time the guards leave, and we’ll be ready and waiting to ride to the children’s rescue.’
‘Someone will,’ Peter interrupted her drily, ‘but if you have any thought of involving yourself in the actual rescue, dear sister, be assured I will lock you in Caerlaverock’s dungeon rather than risk your harm.’
‘We have a dungeon?’ was all Jennifer asked, intrigued. Peter shook his head and climbed to his feet.
As the rest of them rose from the table, Brendon declared his intention to go immediately to his father. ‘While there’s nae much likelihood o’ him meeting any of the MacFarlane clan, ah’m nae aboot tae take any chances wi’ his loose tongue, an wedinnae want him tae mention ma service at Caerlaverock.’
Jennifer bit her lip as she watched the handsome Scot stride from the room. She’d had no opportunity to thank him for his actions the day before. Indeed, they’d spent no time together at all. Mayhap when all this nastiness had been dealt with, there would be time for them to get to know one another a little better. As the thought popped into her head, another immediately followed it. Why on earth did she wish to get to know the steward better? She was to be in Scotland for barely a month. He was a steward and she the daughter of the house. He was an employee, nothing more.
Frowning, she pushed the ridiculous thoughts away and got to her feet. ‘I shall be in the library if anybody wants me. There might be a book containing information to help us with Grandpapa’s disguise.’
The Reverend threw her a sour look which naturally went straight over her head. ‘If anybody needs me for any more deuced bacon-brained schemes, I’ll be out with Flossy,’ he declared huffily, picking the little dog up and stomping from the room.
‘What’s wrong with Grandfather?’ Peter asked with a frown, watching the Reverend exit the room.
‘I suspect he’s less than happy with your choice of sleuthing companion,’ Felicity commented drily. ‘I really do think he’s missing Percy.’
Peter sighed. ‘I know how he feels. I can’t help wishing Father was here.’ He looked over at Malcolm and grimaced. ‘I hate to admit it, old friend, but I’m out of my depth.’
The Scot gripped the Viscount’s shoulder. ‘It’s a good man who can acknowledge such a thing. Ye’re not on yer own lad. We’re here tae help.’
Peter gave a rueful smile. ‘Believe me, I thank God for it.’ Then, laying his used napkin on the table, he added, ‘I’ll write the letter to my father immediately. If there’s anything you wish to add, let me have it before two o’clock. I’d like the bearer to cover as much distance as possible before sunset.’
Malcolm nodded, before turning to his wife. ‘Do ye have anythin’ ye’d like tae say tae her grace?’
‘Poor love is certain to be worried sick once she hears what’s been happening,’ Felicity returned. ‘I’ll go and pen her a few words.’ She looked outside with a sigh. ‘I was hoping to pay a visit to Banalan today, but I think perhaps it’s better if we stay close to Caerlaverock, at least until we formulate a proper plan. Our presence will inevitably cause gossip.’ She drank the last of her tea and stood up. ‘Once I’ve finished the letter, I believe I’ll go for a walk along the edge of the loch.’ At her husband’s sudden indrawn breath, she put her hand on his arm and added, ‘Of course if you’re concerned for my safety, dearest, you could always come with me.’
∞∞∞
By midafternoon, Jennifer was feeling grimy, but jubilant. She’d unearthed a tale of a rumoured hoard of treasure located near to Loch Lomand belonging to an English rector no less. According to the account she’d read, the gentleman by the name of Edward Colman hailed originally from Suffolk. His family had made a substantial amount of money from the cloth trade during the sixteenth century and rose to some prominence within the Suffolk gentry.
Colman’s father had been a devout Protestant minister, but Edward himself converted to Catholicism and according to the records became a very enthusiastic preacher of his new faith. By 1673, he’d established himself as the secretary to Mary ofModena – a fellow Catholic and wife of James, Duke of York. The Duke was the younger brother and heir apparent to the Protestant King Charles II.
When the Duke and Duchess of York moved to Edinburgh, Edward went with them after selling the family’s land in Suffolk and apparently investing the money in gold jewellery – mostly small items such as rings, necklaces and bracelets that could be easily transported.
The book was very sketchy about what happened next aside from the fact that Edward Colman was embroiled in an alleged plot to assassinate King Charles and ended up being hung, drawn and quartered in 1678. Jennifer shuddered, making sure to skip most of the gorier details. Just before he was arrested, Colman seemingly made the journey from Edinburgh to Loch Lomond but there was no record of exactly where he went or why.
According to the book, since Colman died a traitor’s death, all he owned was subsequently appropriated by the Crown. However, it seemed that not so much as a gold ring had been found when his lodgings were ransacked. The entire hoard of jewellery was missing.
Fearing for his life, could Edward Colman have hidden his wealth?
Sitting back, Jennifer closed the book and hugged it to her in satisfaction. This was exactly what they needed. Colman had been an English rector. Grandpapa could quite easily pretend to be a descendant of the family who’d unearthed some information about the missing jewellery. If what they were saying about MacFarlane was true, the clan chief would certainly be interested in what her grandfather had to say.
‘Ye look like a wee cat who’s just stolen the cream.’ The deep voice of Brendon Galbraith had her jumping out of her chair in shock.At her panicked reaction, the handsome Scot held out his hand as he came towards her. ‘Och, forgive me, ma lady, ah didnae mean tae startle ye.’
With a breathless laugh, Jennifer waved his apology away. ‘I was deep in thought is all,’ she answered nervously. ‘Have you spoken with your father?’
‘Aye, an’ it gaed just how ye’d imagine. His words as ah was leavin’ were,Ah’m nae takin’ a baw heided Sassenach God walloper tae visit wi’ the MacFarlane an’ that be the end o’ the matter.
‘I cannae think ye hae a problem understandin’ his meanin’, ma lady.’
