They’d gathered at the Virginia Street townhouse—Father and Zipporah, Loveday, and even Minette, who would accompany them when they sailed tomorrow. If clement weather continued, the voyage would be short and uneventful, leaving them a fortnight in Bath. The twins remained behind at Ardraigh Hall, too young to understand the coming separation, though Juliet did. Suddenly four hundred miles seemed far indeed. She’d gotten down on her knees and prayed with them before she left. Absence could bring many things, the least of them homesickness.
“I’m counting the minutes till we depart,” Loveday told them at dinner. “Though I never thought I’d be saying that after the ocean voyage we had coming here.”
Father chuckled. “Thankfully, a cruise around the west coast of Scotland and England has plenty of places to shelter should the weather turn surly.”
“I shudder at how often voyages go awry,” Zipporah said. “I cannot wait to see Bath now that it’s spring.”
“If we could only get the Buchanans in line.” Father had begun making jokes about their frequent absences. “Though I must say, Niall already feels like a son-in-law, and Leith has been home more than in the countinghouse of late.”
“All three shall join us for supper,” Juliet told them. “Lyrica is on her way too. For now, the men are taking care of last-minute business since Euan will be in charge while we’re away.”
“How expedient to have three male heirs.” Father was studying her and Loveday as if imagining the future.
“Perhaps you shall have grandchildren in time.” Loveday patted his hand. “Even a lad or two.”
Juliet looked at her across the table. It was too soon to think she or Loveday might be expecting—but one could hope.
Father lifted his glass in a sort of toast. “A grandson or granddaughter from either of you would be a fine thing, though Cole and Bella are more than sufficient in the meantime.”
“Truly,” Zipporah echoed, smiling at Juliet. “You have a lovely way with them, my dear. One couldn’t tell they weren’t yours to begin with.”
Thanking her, Juliet turned her attention to the sound of footsteps in the foyer and a footman’s voice giving a greeting. Leith? She rose from the table, giddy as a girl at his homecoming. But it was Euan who appeared in the dining room doorway with no one in his wake, the stricken look on his face bringing Father to his feet. Everyone else froze.
Euan swallowed, visibly struggling for words. “Leith has been taken into custody at the tolbooth for the murder of Havilah.”
57
Whatsoever is done in charity, however small and of no reputation it be, bringeth forth good fruit.
Thomas à Kempis
“Arrested?” Father spoke first. “There must be some mistake.”
Juliet thought she might be sick. Nausea was followed by a jolt of disbelief so strong it made her lightheaded. The tolbooth with its daunting steeple at Glasgow Cross flashed to mind. Its harrowing Gallowgate had held countless executions over the centuries, many of them unjust. Though she’d made a few visits, she’d never imagined having someone she knew or loved imprisoned there. The very sight of it wrenched her heart.
Euan entered the room, crossed to a chair, and gripped the upholstered back. “It seems Cochrane brought the charge. He claims a servant he employs saw Leith push Havilah from the bridge that night.”
“How convenient given it’s his servant,” Zipporah said icily.
“I must go to him at once.” Juliet started for the foyer, but Euan stopped her.
“Once in the tolbooth, none can see him but clergy—though Niall is still there trying to challenge that.”
Loveday came round the table to take Juliet by the arm. “Please sit down lest you faint. We must try to make sense of the matter together, all of us.”
But Juliet was hardly listening. She sat stupefied, knowing little of British law. Leitharrested. And why did the charge come so long after Havilah’s death? She looked at her father as if pleading with him to do something.
Euan’s frown deepened. “Cochrane says his servant—a coachman—was too frightened to report it till now but upon Leith’s second marriage decided to declare it.”
A commotion in the foyer halted the conversation, and then Lyrica swept in, her face pale as linen. Niall was on her heels, his own features florid and irate. At Euan’s urging, they all passed into the smallest drawing room, where a coal fire burned and threw light about the shuttered chamber.
“We must act quickly,” Niall told them. “Under the Murder Act here in Britain, trials are held swiftly by Crown Courts. I’ve already sent to Edinburgh for the best defense counsel available.”
“Might this false charge have to do with Cochrane coveting being Lord Provost of Glasgow, which the other tobacco merchants mean for Leith?” Lyrica asked, obviously well versed on city matters. “Even if he’s not found guilty of murder, it certainly ruins his reputation.”
“Ruins?” Niall shook his head in disgust. “Only by those who believe Cochrane’s lies—or his coercion of his coachman to testify against Leith.”
“I’m very sorry he can’t claim benefit of peerage since he has no title.” Lyrica took a seat by Juliet on a sofa, reachingfor her hand. “Murder is a capital crime that has all kinds of implications.”
