“Confide in Leo Tate, my foremost factor. He’s also aware of Sinclair and can be trusted. Ask for his help in future. Swear him to secrecy. Before my arrest Tate found two of our engravers forging note plates at our bank, and they’re now in custody. Something nefarious is afoot, someone internal working against us who took advantage of my lengthy absence in America and my absence now. Someone who kens the business with all its complexities and can profit from that knowledge.”
“I’ll confide in your factor, then. Not your brothers?”
“Nae. All are guilty till proven innocent.” He paused, his alarm palpable. “I want you to send a note to the criminal officer named John Tennant at Session House in the Trongate. You’ll need protection.”
“Protection?” Her whispered word held resistance. She’d not felt in any danger, though the alarm that scored his half-bearded face made her reconsider. Who would wish her ill?
“Promise me you’ll not do anything else till you settle your protection with Tennant.”
“Of course.”
His tone turned gentle. “How are you spending your days?”
In a whirlwind of disbelief and grief.
She forged ahead, aware of the clock and dreading their parting. “I’m often at the countinghouse in your office, keeping apprised of what is happening in your absence. Betimes I attend meetings. A woman’s presence is not always welcome, but I do what I can.”
“And I commend you for it. Stay the course, but comply with Tennant as far as your safety is concerned. How is your family handling all this?”
“They are very concerned but continue to support us and pray. We’re all of us certain you’ll soon be free, this debacle over.”
“Aye, debacle. That’s the word for it.” He kissed her fingers. “You’re the first person I’ve been allowed to see—”
The scraping of a key in the lock signaled the end of their time. Juliet felt that unwelcome, heavy breathlessness weighing her like sodden wool. Not knowing when she’d see him again—if she’d see him again.
“Mrs. Buchanan, this way, please.”
Turning back to Leith, she mouthed,I love you, unwilling to trust her wavering voice.
61
Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
William Shakespeare
At noon the next day, John Tennant stood before her in Leith’s Virginia Street study. Juliet received him there as it was absent of doors and alcoves, unlike the mansion’s other rooms where servants might overhear or even spy. Everyone had now become suspect save Loveday, Father, and Zipporah.
“I hardly know what to say, Mr. Tennant.” Another headache building, Juliet felt a touch of madness as events unfolded. “My husband has expressed concern for my safety and asked me to meet with you. Please, take a seat. Would you like refreshments?”
“A dram of whisky, aye.” He took a tufted armchair by the window, allowing her a stark view of his taciturn features once she’d summoned a maid. Gray about the temples, he was no older than forty, she guessed. Finely tailored garments made him look less gaunt, tempting her to offer more than libations. Only whisky was brought, ending the matter.
He downed the drink quickly and set aside the glass.“Since you have no idea who I am, let me say I’m a former Bow Street Runner in London. Since coming to Glasgow a decade ago, I’ve acted as auxiliary to the bailies and magistrates who police the city. I also have a cadre of men who serve as private guards. Mr. Buchanan no doubt wants one of them assigned to you.”
“An escort charged with my protection when I venture out,” she said quietly, still wondering if it was even necessary. “But I’ve felt no danger ... not yet.”
“A preventive measure, then.”
“Perhaps your time would be better spent investigating the ludicrous charge brought against my husband.”
His small, tight smile was so telling she knew at once he was already doing so. She also knew better than to press him. Mr. Tennant was an enigma. But she could certainly talk.
“I want you to know my suspicions now that I’ve acted in my husband’s stead since his arrest. Someone close to him seems determined to undermine him both professionally and personally.” She went on to explain the unaccounted-for business matters, the missing maid, and anything she felt would help Leith, however small.
When she’d finished he asked her a few simple questions rife with meaning. Had she ever noticed anyone following her? Had she ever felt afraid? Was she aware of any out-of-the-ordinary activity? Did she trust the servants?
“Thank you for taking care of my welfare in Mr. Buchanan’s absence.” She stood when he got ready to leave. “But more than that, thank you for whatever you’re doing on my husband’s behalf.”
How was it even possible that one continued to take tea, have meals, sleep, and converse when such a life-shatteringevent played out in unseen courts with strange jurors and judges deciding one’s future and fate? Juliet went through the motions, eating little and sleeping less. Almost everyone seemed suspect to her now—not only Cochrane, who’d leveled the charge, but even the Buchanans themselves.
