In truth, the thought of her husband at the mercy of such as Alistair MacFarlane made Felicity want to cast up her account. But she had a duty towards her charge. Grace hadentrustedJennifer to her. How could she even consider allowing the young woman to risk her life in such a hazardous endeavour? But, in her heart, she knew Jennifer would go, with or without her consent. After a few seconds, Felicity closed her eyes in defeat. When she opened them again, Jennifer was back on her feet.
‘Here’s the note to Peter. I know I don’t need to ask you to watch for him or for Gifford. Please look after Flossy until Grandpapa and I return.’ Felicity nodded and stood up, pulling Jennifer into a brief tight embrace.
‘Please don’t do anything foolish, Jenny,’ she whispered, feeling the answering headshake against her cheek.
Seconds later Jennifer was gone.
∞∞∞
‘Do you know where Brendon hid the boat?’ the Reverend asked suddenly.
‘Aye, it be ower there in the reeds.’
‘Shall I go and check it’s there?’
Ye gaunnie nae dae that, yer numpy. We dinnae want tae draw the eejit’s attention tae it.’
The Reverend bristled but was in truth too tired to do more than glower. It had taken him two hours to dig three useless holes. Naturally, he hadn’t accepted Dougal’s declaration that his bad leg prevented him from digging but conceded that the old Scot could only do it under the cover of the ruined tower where he could not be observed. The result was a pathetic hole that wouldn’t have hidden a lady’s reticule, let alone a satchel full of gold jewellery.
And after listening to Dougal’s grumbling for nigh on half an hour, the Reverend had snatched the shovel from the Scot’s hands, only narrowly resisting the urge to bash the addlepate over the head with it.
‘How long do you think we have until sunset?’ the clergyman asked, trying to ignore his recent disturbing propensity for violence.
‘Ah reckon we hae aboot four hours til gloamin. The bastart’ll nae be hangin’ aroond tae provide a meal fer the wee beasties, and naither will the other bastarts ower at the mine.’
‘Which leaves us to provide their only evening meal. Splendid.’
Dougal favoured him with a toothless grin but didn’t answer. There really wasn’t anything to say.
∞∞∞
Jennifer followed the Lochside, guessing that unless Murray wanted to walk the whole way back to his Clan home, he’d stick to the most used track too in the hopes of receiving a lift.
In any case, she’d doubtless get lost or worse if she attempted tofind her way across the numerous trails crisscrossing the wild landscape.
She kept the horse at a sedate canter, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of the former footman. The weather was overcast but reasonably warm, and she soon began to feel sticky and hot beneath her riding habit.
Fortunately on the insistence of both her parents, Jennifer had been taught to ride astride a horse, so she didn’t have the additional difficulty of keeping her balance. She couldn’t help but loose a small chuckle. The current bridle path was hardly Rotten Row.
After about an hour, another discomfort began to assail her, and she realised she’d left Caerlaverock without breaking her fast. Berating herself for her stupidity, she wondered if she’d be able to purchase anything to eat. A heel of bread and a pitcher of water would do.
As far as she was aware, there were no villages between here and the MacFarlane Keep, but surely there would be a farmhouse or croft who’d take her coin.
It was another hour before she came across a small farmhouse, nestling in a hollow to the left of the track. Surprisingly, she’d passed no traffic of any kind – neither riding nor walking, going either way. On the one hand, it meant she’d been unable to confirm whether she was on the same track as her quarry, but on the other, if he was still walking, she must be getting close to catching him up. Stopping at the croft, she could at least find out if she was heading in the same direction.
Jennifer directed her horse towards the gate and dismounted onto a large, conveniently placed boulder. Then tying her horse to the post at the side of the gate, she raised the latch and stepped through into the small yard.
On closer inspection, the croft looked deserted. Frowning, shecame to a halt and stood uncertainly, staring about her. Had it been abandoned? Certainly there were no livestock noises or signs that there were any people around. There was no washing on the line, or boots lined up on the porch as was customary in Blackmore. But most telling of all, no smoke coming out of the chimney.
Feeling suddenly very alone, Jennifer backed up, staring all the while at the faceless windows. ‘Hello?’ Her voice sounded loud in the stillness. She shouted again, this time frightening a small host of sparrows nesting in the dilapidated roof.
After receiving no reply for the third time, Jennifer had had enough. Plainly the croft was unoccupied, so her stomach would simply have to survive a little longer. Turning back to face the gate, she carefully picked her way towards it.
The horse’s sudden bray should have alerted her, but she didn’t identify the sound of footsteps until it was too late. At the last second, she felt breath hot against her neck and swung back round, briefly catching sight of Caerlaverock’s former footman as he brought something large directly down onto her head. She just had time to wonder whether Felicity would ever forgive her, when whatever he was holding connected. There was a brief, blinding pain, and then, nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
Murray MacFarlane stared in horror at the body in front of him. Had he hit her too hard? He crouched down and bent his head towards her face, sagging back in relief seconds later when he heard her soft breathing. Then he stared at her curiously again. She looked familiar. He’d decided to rest in the old croft in part because he really didn’t want to arrive back at the Clan home – the thought of the upcoming interview with MacFarlane made him feel physically sick. But in truth, he had nowhere else to go since MacFee, the bampot, caught him with Ailsa.
