Page 65 of The Indigo Heiress

64

They that know no evil will suspect none.

Ben Jonson

The verdict was imminent, Tennant’s note read. Juliet should return to Glasgow.

So, the hour had come. Quickly, she made ready. She wanted to be near Leith no matter what. Done with teetering between hope and trepidation, she would behave with strength and honor, as Proverbs said, and rejoice in time to come.

“Let me fetch Miss Loveday from the stillroom to go with you,” Rilla said in concern.

“Nay. She’s needed here.” Juliet stood in Lamb Hill’s foyer as Minette brought her cape. “I want her to be near the twins when they awaken from their nap. They love her company, and I would fret otherwise, especially since Bella is recovering from a fever. I’ll send word as soon as I can from Virginia Street as to what’s transpired with Mr. Buchanan.”

“Your guard goes with you, I reckon.” Rilla looked toward the front door a footman was opening, revealing a closed carriage being brought round the circular forecourt. “My prayers go with you too.”

After a hasty goodbye, Minette followed Juliet outside, the guard tipping his hat to them as he waited on horseback behind the coach. Today there was no rainbow above Lamb Hill. A downpour turned the dusty driveway a deep chocolate brown as they rattled down it, shutters closed against the damp spring air. Minette looked so tense, so downcast, that Juliet was tempted to tell her édith had been found. But she herself knew better, and Tennant had said the details would be revealed at the trial and not before.

“I’ve been praying for a maiden assize, madame,” Minette said quietly.

“A maiden assize? I’ve not heard that term before.”

“Oui, it is when the sheriff presents the presiding judge with a pair of white gloves, a sign of purity, that announces there is no death sentence.”

How symbolic, even beautiful, a gesture. For a moment dread fought its way forward again at the mention of death, but the image of the gloves, a flawless white, righted her. Darkness and light. She still felt in the midst of a battle between good and evil. Which would prevail?

Thankful they were not far from Glasgow, Juliet sat back and took out her watch on its coral chain, a gift from Zipporah, to check the time. Half past ten.

When the coach rolled to a lumbering halt just shy of the city, she heard a rapid exchange of voices. Lyrica?

Instantly wary, Juliet leaned forward to raise the window shade and saw her sister-in-law’s coach pull alongside theirs. When their door opened and Lyrica stepped inside, drawing it shut behind her, Juliet was so startled she dropped her watch. Taking a seat beside Minette, Lyrica stared red-eyed at Juliet, her tearstained face sending a warning as the coach lurched forward.

“I’ve come to tell you the terrible news.” She took a vial of smelling salts from her reticule with gloved hands and offered it to Juliet. “Half an hour ago the jury found Leith guilty of murder.”

Minette gave a hoarse cry. Guilty hung in the pungent air. Juliet ignored the offered vial, her whole world shrinking to a blinding point of pain she’d never known. As she grappled for her bearings, Minette seemed to withdraw like a snail coiled into its shell.

“The penalty is death.” Lyrica’s voice sounded odd, almost relieved, like a false note in a piece of music. “His execution is on the morrow.”

With a sudden move, Juliet knocked on the coach roof to halt the driver, but the vehicle swung toward the Broomielaw, not Virginia Street. Leaning forward, Lyrica brought the shutter down hard, then drew a penknife from her reticule. She opened it, the mother-of-pearl haft agleam in the low light.

“Be cooperative lest you suffer an unfortunate slashing and ruin your lovely brocaded silk.” She waved the knife at Minette. “Over there by your mistress so I can keep a better eye on the both of you.”

Minette all but lunged toward Juliet, coming down hard on the upholstered seat in a flurry of petticoats. Their shared fear filled the coach as matters became clear. Lyrica was in league with her husband and Cochrane. But to what extent—and how far was she willing to go?

“Where is my guard?” Juliet pushed the words past her breathlessness, certain that he, too, had been waylaid en route.

A triumphant smile surfaced. “He took a wee detour.”

They were along the waterfront now, the tang of tar and fish and salt water potent. Another turn and they came to an abrupt stop. The coach door opened, and she and Minette found themselves in a darkened tobacco warehouse. Juliet knew that sweet, earthy scent anywhere, and with it came a wash of memories.

Several men surrounded them, all strangers, as Lyrica disappeared through a side door. To struggle was futile, but Juliet still had a voice. “We are being held against our will and must be taken to Virginia Street—”

“We’ve orders to do otherwise,” a thickset man said as he hurried them toward the dock. His fellows, all sailors, formed a ring around them as if to keep them from running.

The gangplank stretching ahead of them led to the Black Prince , Euan’s pride. The irony was not lost on Juliet. Minette linked arms with her as they were hustled up the wooden walkway to deck. Juliet took a last look at Glasgow over her shoulder before they were taken below, out of sight. The dock was empty. Lyrica had obviously played her part and abandoned them.

They were shoved into a small, shadowed cabin. Juliet pushed hard against the door in a final protest, but it thudded shut, catching her lace sleeve in the process, before the door was locked. She faced Minette, who was crying now, collapsed atop the floor in a small heap. Since there were no chairs, only twin hammocks, Juliet sank down beside her and put her arms around her, their bent heads pressed together.

Lord, what are we to do?

If only she’d not left Lamb Hill. It had seemed insignificant yet in hindsight proved disastrous. Had Tennant sent the note for her to come to Glasgow? Or had Euan and Lyrica been behind that too?

Minette raised her head. “What will become of us?”

Juliet took a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it into Minette’s trembling hand. Shock scattered her thoughts, and she took a breath, groping for sensibility instead of the hovering hysteria. “I don’t know where this ship is bound, but it could be worse.”

We might have been murdered like Havilah ... Leo.

“I’m afraid.” Minette dried her tears with the handkerchief. “But at least we are together, no?”

For now. Who knew what the coming hours would bring? “I’m so sorry, Minette. ’Tis me they’re wanting to do away with. You’re just caught in the crosshairs.”

“From the moment I met her I never cared for Madame Buchanan or her husband.” Minette shuddered and looked at Juliet. “Do you believe what was said about Mr. Buchanan being found guilty?”

Did she? The weight on Juliet’s heart failed to ease. Might it have been a lie? A part of the ruse? “We shall find out in time. The truth will come to light.”

Exhaustion pressed down on her as if she’d run clear from Lamb Hill to Glasgow. She got up with difficulty, passed to the porthole, and looked out over the shipping lanes, wishing she faced the labyrinth of piers and docks instead. Here her cries for help would bounce across the water like a skimmed pebble. Gulls careened overhead, their cries shrill.

She crossed to the door if only to confirm it was still locked. Throat parched, she looked to a hammock, reminded of Leith’s on the Glasgow Lass. Oh, to return to that time, almost hallowed in hindsight, when their future was before them, unmarred and bright.