Page 41 of The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (Kilgannon #2)
FIFTEEN
I sat in a chair by the window and tried not to think of what could be happening to him. How could Edgar DeBroun talk to me so smoothly of “persuasion” at the Duchess’s house and be the same man who oversaw the batterings that Alex had endured?
He was gone for two hours and when he returned walked stiffly into the room and waited while the guards closed the door behind him.
I’d risen to go to him, but he shook his head and limped over to the table, sinking into a chair and staring into the distance.
I sat opposite him, watching the new weals on his neck grow redder.
“Alex,” I said at last and his eyes shifted to meet mine. “Tell them. Tell them what you know, or what you suspect. Tell them, for God’s sake!”
He shook his head and winced. “No,” he whispered, his voice a croak. I went to him then and knelt before him, pulling the neckline of his shirt away from his skin. It was as I’d suspected.
“What have they done to you?”
He almost smiled. “Practiced, lass.”
“Practiced? Practiced what, Alex? This looks like they tried to hang you. ”
“Aye,” he said. “Perhaps they’re no’ sure of the procedure.”
I rose and stepped back from him. “It’s not amusing, Alex.”
He shook his head and smiled. “No, lass, no’ amusing at all.”
“Then why do you smile?”
“I win when I resist them, Mary. I win.”
I crossed the room, heading for the door. “Then I’ll tell them, Alex. I’ll not allow them to do this to you. I’ll tell them what I know.”
He was to the door before me, his eyes blazing as he drew himself to his full height. “Ye’ll tell them nothing, Mary. Ye’ll tell them nothing. This is unimportant.”
“Unimportant,” I gasped. “Unimportant. They ‘practice’ hanging you and it doesn’t matter?”
He shook his head. “Do ye no’ see, Mary? If I tell them nothing they’ll kill me. And if I tell them what little I ken, or guess, they’ll use that information to kill the others and then they’ll kill me. I’ll no’ be a party to it. I’ll tell them nothing and neither will ye.”
I collapsed against his chest. “Alex,” I sobbed. “I cannot bear to see you like this. Tell them. I cannot bear it.”
He wrapped an arm around me and kissed my hair. “Dinna fret, Mary Rose. It willna be much longer.”
The next day Gilbey smuggled in the sea charts, and the three of us studied them for possible sites appropriate for ambushing ships headed out to sea from London.
And later that afternoon Alex was taken for questioning again.
When he returned, barely able to stand, I pleaded with him again that he should tell them what he knew.
He shook his head and wouldn’t answer me, merely crawled into bed and closed his eyes. It was a very long night.
We were left alone then for two days, without “questioning,” without Gilbey.
We knew it was a ploy, that Alex was being shown his choices quite explicitly.
Life in the Tower of London could be confining but comfortable, or it could be hell.
We’d also had no news of Murdoch with Gilbey’s absence, and Alex brooded about that.
I prayed for Murdoch, feeling guilty that Alex was here with me.
And on the seventh day of my visit the man who brought us our breakfast also brought the news that I was to leave by ten.
He would tell me nothing else. I had packed my meager possessions and Alex and I were together on the edge of the bed, hand in hand, when they came to escort me out.
I rose, determined to appear calm, and, as we’d practiced, kissed Alex lightly and smiled as I bid him farewell.
It was pride, we’d decided, that was the only thing they could not take from us.
But it was not pride I felt when I followed the guard to the courtyard and then to the streets, leaving the Tower behind me.
I felt sickened, unable to face what would come next.
I retreated to Louisa’s and to the comfort of her sympathy and the cheer Alex’s sons brought me. It would have to be enough.
Three days after my return, Angus sent a note asking me to meet him. We followed the same pattern as before. I wandered around the Abbey until Matthew found me, and then we rode in a coach while I visited with Angus. But this time Angus was not alone. Duncan Maclean was with him.
I embraced him with joy but Duncan did not return my smile.
He was an embittered man and snarled as he told me his story.
The Maclean clan had rallied after Alex and Murdoch had sailed to London and, with the help of ready coin, Duncan had been allowed to “escape” from Edinburgh.
He had stolen across Scotland with his kinsmen and eventually returned to Maclean territory, where they found the burnt remains of their home and the graves of Morag and his mother.
Both women were murdered, they’d been told, by English troops. Morag , I thought.
Since then Duncan had been on the run, living on the charity of Jacobite sympathizers and plotting the escape of his brother.
Upon his arrival in London, he was told of Murdoch’s conviction and he now swore vengeance on DeBroun.
I did not know how to respond to his bitter manner and sad story, but I told him how sorry I was.
He asked about Alex and listened carefully when I told him what had happened during my stay, of DeBroun’s interest in him and the others, and Alex’s refusal to tell him anything.
I told them of the trial date and everything else I could think of that would be of interest to them.
Angus, who had spent most of the time moodily staring out the window, met my eyes then and I knew I did not need to ask how he’d been.
His silence was tangible and it was with a heavy heart that I stepped down from the coach.
Angus followed me. “Mary,” he said. “I ken yer distraught about DeBroun’s treatment of Alex. ”
“I am,” I said, guessing what was next.
“And…” He looked over my head at the coach behind us. “And now ye ken where Duncan is.”
“Don’t insult me by saying it, Angus,” I said heatedly.
“I was going to tell ye…”
“That I now have it in my power to go to DeBroun and tell him Duncan’s in London. And barter the information for Alex. I find your suggestion insulting.”
He shook his head, then laughed. “I was going to warn ye to be extra careful, lass. Ye may be being followed and if they find ye’ve seen Duncan ye could be back in the Tower as a prisoner yerself. Yer in danger as well as us, Mary.”
“Oh,” I said, chagrined. “Well. Thank you for the warning.” I smiled. “And for your faith in me.”
“I took yer measure long ago, Mary MacGannon. Ye’ll do.”
“Thank you, Angus,” I said, and he laughed again as he climbed into the coach.
“Take care, lassie. Ye have the future of the MacGannons in yer charge. Take good care of the four of ye.”
“I will,” I said and turned to follow Matthew to Louisa’s coach.
A moment later, outside the Abbey doors, Matthew paused. “Mary, I went to Kilgannon to check on things,” he said. “And to Edinburgh.”
I fought the longing to be home that swept over me. “How is everyone? Ellen and Dougall and Thomas and Murreal, and Berta?”
“They are well. All are well. Ye ken Dougall. He’ll no’ let anyone approach the inner loch or through the pass, though both apparently have been tried. The people are doing well enough, all things considered. Ellen sends her love and the message that she is with child.”
“Oh! How wonderful!”
“Aye.” He smiled at my expression and then glanced around. “Mary, I saw Robert Campbell.”
“Robert?” I looked around us. “Where?”
“No, no’ here. In Edinburgh. Robert told me to tell you…” He looked over my head. “He said to wish you well.”
“He is still in Edinburgh?”
“For a bit longer. Then he is coming to London. He said he’ll be here for the trial.”
My anger was immediate. “Why? Is he coming to gloat?”
Matthew looked at me for a long moment and then a slow smile blossomed. “And I feared he had some hold on you.”
I took a deep breath. “Robert was a friend when I needed one, Matthew, nothing more. And despite all his kindnesses I will never forget that he was the one to take Alex to Edinburgh.”
“So he was and I’ll no’ forget it either. Care for yourself, Mary,” he said as he ushered me into the coach. “I must be gone.”
I bid him farewell, then leaned back against the cushions with the growing belief that I was not going to be able to stop it, any of it, not the trial, not whatever Angus, Duncan, and Harry were planning, not DeBroun, nor Alex’s headlong plunge to his own death, nor Robert coming to London to watch it.
These men, all of them, were going to persist and I was powerless to prevent whatever was going to happen.
I closed my eyes and let the coach bring me home.