Page 47 of To Love a Scottish Lord (Highland Lords #4)

The young girl shook her head vehemently from side to side. “No sir, if anything he seemed better after he drank it. But like I said, he didn’t have any for nearly a week before he died.”

She looked over at Mary again. “Sometimes, I’d see Mrs. Gilly at his bedside at night.

I’d look in on her just before I retired to see if she needed anything, and she’d be sitting with him.

Toward the end, the poor man was losing his mind.

He was raving, thinking he saw things like animals and things.

He said that he had insects crawling all over his body and scratching at his eyes.

Then he started screaming that he was on fire.

Cook and I used to sit in the kitchen and look at each other and pray that the poor man would just die. ”

“How, exactly, did he die?”

“He just went to sleep, sir. A blessed release, I call it. He just went to sleep, and he never woke up again.”

“What was Mrs. Gilly’s reaction to his death?”

“I found her, sir, on the floor, next to the bed. She had her face against the sheet, her cheek next to Mr. Gilly’s hand. There were tears all over her face, like she had been crying for hours.”

Hamish glanced at Mary, thinking that there were secrets between them even now.

Even though she’d spoken of Gordon, she’d never alluded to how he’d died or what she’d gone through in those last days.

Mary was not a woman who sought pity, but he couldn’t help but wonder where she’d found her strength.

“How much longer will this take?” Hamish asked, but neither Brendan nor Marshall answered him.

“I beg leave to address the court.”

Hamish turned to see Marshall standing.

The minister was dressed in his customary black suit and white stock.

His shoulder length silvery gray hair was brushed back from his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

His face was serene, as it always appeared, but his dark eyes were filled with resolve.

In his left hand he clutched the Bible; his right was fisted and resting on his hip as he stared at Sir John.

It was, Hamish realized, a duel of wills between the sheriff and the church. In this case, the church won.

Sir John nodded, and Marshall came forward. Betty left the witness chair, and Marshall took her place, resting the Bible on his lap as he sat.

“I come to give my evidence not as a minister, but as a man who’s studied medicine for some thirty years. I’ve detailed my experience in various books on the subject.”

“We would certainly welcome any expertise, Mr. Marshall,” Sir John said, his expression belying his words.

“Mercury poisoning is a terrible way to die, but it’s my opinion that the entire vial should not have been enough to cause Mr. Gilly’s death.” He sent a sharp look to the container still resting on the Sheriff’s desk.

“By itself, perhaps. But have you considered that the physician administered mercury as well?”

Once again, the courtroom was solemnly quiet as Marshall and Sir John looked at each other. Finally, the magistrate looked into the audience, seeking out the physician.

“Dr. Grampian, how much mercury did you give Mr. Gilly?”

The physician stood. “A scant spoonful in a mixture of other ingredients.”

“Administered how often?”

Dr. Grampian hesitated for a moment. “Every day for a matter of weeks.”

The sheriff turned to Marshall once again. “Coupled with the dosage Mrs. Gilly administered, would that have been enough to kill?”

Marshall nodded, evidently unhappy to be forced to concede the point.

Hamish was growing increasingly concerned about Mary. He’d thought her pale before, but now she was almost ashen. She stared at Mr. Marshall with wide eyes as if she’d received a shock.

“So, Mrs. Gilly could have poisoned her husband without knowing what she was doing?”

Marshall once again nodded.

“But because she labels herself a healer, it is my belief she should have known,” Sir John said, staring at Mary.

The sheriff didn’t seem to be willing to consider Mary innocent. Nor did Hamish believe that the physician would be called to the witness stand again to account for his actions.

Mary was plainly going to be the one to be made responsible for Gordon’s death.

Why are women considered more sinners than sinned against? Mary had asked him that question weeks ago.

A moment later, the minister left the witness chair, to be replaced by a series of people, all of whom had requested time to speak. They told how Mary had saved a family member or themselves. Mr. Grant testified as well, his story touching, and revealing more about Mary than her treatments.

“Jack was only five at the time. He contracted what we thought was a cold, but it seemed to settle around his chest. His fever mounted, and it grew more and more difficult for him to breathe. We fetched the physician, and he prescribed several tonics for him, but none seemed to work. I didn’t think my youngest child would survive the night,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“My wife was beside herself. The physician counseled that we should simply remain at Jack’s bedside and be prepared for death by morning. ”

His eyes searched and found the physician sitting on the other side of the courtroom. Hamish hadn’t been in Mr. Grant’s presence often, but he’d never seen the older man look as angry as he did now.

“I confess to being of a stubborn nature,” Mr. Grant continued as his wife smiled faintly and dabbed at her eyes. “I was not willing to lose Jack without a battle. So, when Elspeth told me that she’d heard of a woman who was treating the poor with some success, I agreed to summon her.”

“I take it your son did not die?” the Sheriff said.

“No, he didn’t. Mary came and sat on the edge of his bed, asking a dozen questions or more about his symptoms and his treatment to date. She did some things that I thought odd at the time, but the longer I’ve known of her methods, the more respect I have for them.”

“What did she do that you found odd?”

“Dr. Grampian told us to burn several pots filled with camphor. She extinguished them, and had us open the window a little. The room was stifling, and I feared that the change of temperature would worsen Jack’s condition.

But his fever decreased over the next hour, especially after she began bathing him in cool water. ”

“Did she ever give him mercury?”

“No. Nor did she ever discuss it. In fact, I don’t recall Mary giving Jack any medications at all. She said later that the body has a way of healing itself if obstacles are removed from it.”

Marshall nodded vehemently, and Hamish glanced at him, thinking that, at another time, Mary would be pleased at his approval.

“Mary elevated Jack on the pillows, and used a reed to eliminate the obstruction in his throat. She said that it would aid him in breathing easier. Toward dawn, his color was better, and she was right, he didn’t sound as if he were laboring as much.

By the next day, his fever was down, and by week’s end, he was almost back to his normal self. ”

“You’re saying that Mrs. Gilly was responsible for the boy’s cure?”

“I saw the proof of it with my own eyes.”

Sir John waved away Mr. Grant’s words as if he considered them of little value.

Elspeth was next on the list, and she took her place in the witness chair with a soft smile to her father.

“Have you seen Mrs. Gilly involved in any miraculous healings?” Sir John asked.

“I don’t consider them miracles, Sir John,” Elspeth said. “Nor does Mary. She takes a great store from the teachings of others and has tried to do good in all her dealings with people.”

Elspeth smiled at Mary, who smiled back, the first emotion she’d willingly demonstrated since taking her seat hours earlier.

“There was the Lambeth baby,” Elspeth continued. “He had the croup so bad that he wouldn’t eat. The poor thing was nearly a skeleton before Mary happened upon a cure. And old Mr. Parkinson who had rheumatism. But he died last year of old age, so he wouldn’t be a good witness.”

An interruption of laughter made Elspeth frown and look down at her hands. Brendan half rose from his chair, but Hamish pressed him down again in his seat.

“I’m all for grand gestures as well,” he told his brother, “but now is not the time.” As much as he would like to go and rescue Mary, the sheriff’s men aligned around the courtroom made that thought as impractical as Brendan’s rushing to Elspeth’s aid.

He would do nothing more than complicate the situation.

“Have you any further information that you can provide this court that would assist in rendering a verdict in this matter?”

Elspeth looked directly at Sir John. “No, I don’t. Only that I do not think Mary could harm Gordon. I would trust her with my life.”

“It seemed as if her husband felt the same way,” Sir John said, and the courtroom fell silent at that remark.

“It being now two in the afternoon, the court is adjourned. Tomorrow we will hear from the accused.” He peered down his fleshy nose at Mary. “Will you be ready to give testimony, Mrs. Gilly?”

She stood. “Yes,” she said simply.

A female warder stood in front of Mary and pulled her unceremoniously from the chair by her bound wrists.

She lifted her eyes, and for a moment, her gaze met Hamish’s.

She looked away, releasing him, deliberately rebuffing him.

Nevertheless, the hopelessness in her eyes made him want to rescue her now.

Be brave . Would she hear him? Was there a way to communicate with her in just his thoughts? If so, he’d send his courage to her, the tattered remnants of his optimism, something that would aid her now.

She was led from the room as Hamish watched.

Not once did Mary glance in his direction.