Dawn on a Distant Shore (82 page)

Contrecoeur came in,
his expression unreadable. He walked the length of the hall, his heels ticking
against the flagstones like an overwound clock, to stop before Carryck.

"Dupuis has heard
her confession and absolved her of her sins, but it took the last of his
strength. She is asking for you, my lord Earl. The doctor says she is very
close to death."

All faces turned to
Carryck, but he studied the bottom of his cup with unflinching concentration.
Curiosity hummed low in her throat, a mournful sound.

It wasn't until the
horses came into the courtyard that Carryck raised his head. Contrecoeur still
waited for his answer, but he looked past the priest as if he were invisible.

Moncrieff's voice came
to them, hoarse and angry, and then louder, an oath and a challenge to the armed
men who had brought him. There was a scuffling as he was dragged down from his
horse. Elizabeth's heart raced and Lily, nursing greedily as if to make up for
the hours away from her mother, coughed on the quickened flow of milk.

He strode into the
Great Hall alone. At the sight of Hawkeye he came to a sudden stop. For a
moment he stared, and then he turned to Carryck, his head up at a proud angle.

"My lord
Earl," he said, his voice ringing through the hall, unflinching. "Why
have ye sent for me in sic a manner?"

Carryck closed his
eyes and then opened them again slowly. "We have a visitor."

"I see that, my
lord." Moncrieff pushed his chest forward. Bravado or courage, it was hard
to tell what moved him. "I tolt ye he wad come, in the end."

"We have a
visitor fra' Loudoun," said Carryck evenly. "Lady Isabel is come hame."

For a moment
Moncrieff's expression did not change. Then a small tic began at the corner of
his eye and spread by degrees over his face until it reached his mouth, which
opened and then shut before he turned, eyes blazing, to Hawkeye.

"This is your
doing," he said. "Ye've taken up wi' Breadalbane."

"Monsieur
Contrecoeur," Elizabeth said before Hawkeye could respond to Moncrieff. "Would
you kindly ask Robbie MacLachlan to bring Lady Isabel here? She will want to
speak directly to this man in her father's presence."

Moncrieff flung out
both arms in a frustrated appeal. "My lord Earl. This is a devious plot
tae discredit me for doin' naethin' mair than what ye bade me tae do-- bring
that man, yer bluid cousin, tae Carryckcastle. Can ye let a Breadalbane stan
afore ye and believe even a word o' what she has tae say?"

Carryck poured more
whisky into his own cup. When he had drunk, he wiped his mouth.

He said, "I gave
Daniel Bonner my word that I wad listen tae the charges against ye. His
charges, and ... hers, as weel. Ye'll stand there and listen wi' me, Angus.
Unless ye have somethin' tae fear fra' her?"

Moncrieff held his
gaze for a long moment, and then he nodded.

Carryck spoke to
Contrecoeur without looking at him.

"Bring her,"
he said.

Elizabeth watched
Contrecoeur walk back to the tower, willing him to move faster, to run. And then
he opened the door and the hall filled with the sound of Jean Hope's weeping, a
sound hardly human that washed over them like a fitful breeze. Robbie came down
the tower stairs and through the door, his normally florid complexion ashen.

"She's
gone."

"God have mercy
on her soul," said Will quietly.

"Amen,"
added Curiosity.

Moncrieff started,
turning first to Carryck and then back toward Contrecoeur, who stood still with
his hand on the tower door.

He passed a hand over
his face, and then he smiled. Isabel was dead, and Moncrieff could hardly
contain his joy. Elizabeth shuddered in sorrow and a deep and absolute loathing
for the man who stood there, smiling at them, blinking in confusion and relief
so profound he could not hide it: a condemned man with a last-minute reprieve
from the gallows.

Nathaniel pushed back
his chair as he came to his feet. "Counting your blessings right about
now, ain't you, Angus? That she died before she could tell her father what you
are."

Moncrieff's back
straightened and he inclined his head, that artful tilt that Elizabeth had seen
him use so many times when he was constructing a lie.

"Whatever
complaints ye've got aboot me have naethin' tae do wi' Lady Isabel. May she
rest in peace," he added solemnly.

Carryck drew in a
breath through his teeth and then let it out again. Slowly he leaned forward to
rest his head on his hands. His shoulders heaved once, and then again--a
terrible dry retching that Elizabeth could not bear to see. She bent her head
over her daughter and drew in Lily's smell, clean and sweet. Perhaps Carryck
was thinking of Isabel when she was just as small, before she grew away from him;
before he lost track of the woman she had become. Elizabeth had the power to
give him back that daughter.

She stood, holding
Lily to her breast. "My lord Earl, may I speak?"

Moncrieff made a small
sound in his throat, but Carryck held up a hand to stop him. "Aye."

"On the journey
here, your daughter Isabel told us the story of the day she eloped. Will you
hear what she had to say?"

The room was so quiet
that Elizabeth thought she could hear the beat of her own heart. She waited, and
finally Carryck nodded. Moncrieff's face was vacant, waiting. Disbelieving.

"This is what
Lady Isabel told us. After Lammas Fair five years ago, Angus Moncrieff
confronted her on the road to the castle late in the night. Simon Hope was with
her. He called Isabel a whore and Simon Hope a whoreson, and when she laughed at
him for claiming that she had been promised to him in marriage, he told her of
your alliance with Mrs. Hope. Then Angus Moncrieff assaulted and raped her there
in the rain and dirt."

Nothing changed on
Carryck's face, no acknowledgment or surprise. He said, "Angus. What say
ye tae these charges?"

Flecks of color
appeared high on Moncrieff's cheeks, just below the tic at the corner of his
eye, as frantic as a heartbeat.

"Lies. Ye ken
verra weel, my lord, that yer dauchter was promised tae John Munro o' Foulis on
the verra day she ran aff."

From the back of the
hall Jean Hope stepped forward from the shadows. Her face was red and swollen with
weeping, and she wound her hands in her apron. "But Isabel nivver was told
about John Munro!"

Moncrieff was
untouched by Jean's sorrow and her logic. He shrugged. "Whether she knew
or no', the oath was given and I witnessed it. Why wad I ha' tolt her anythin'
else, or claimed her for my own?" More sure of himself now, he cast a
glance toward Elizabeth. "Ye've got only the word o' a desperate woman. Elizabeth
Bonner wad do anythin' in her power tae get her revenge on me, for takin' her bairns
frae her in Canada. The bairns, that ye see before ye, hale and hearty."

How perfectly calm he
was, Elizabeth thought. And why not? Isabel and Simon were dead, and unable to
call him to account.

Carryck looked so very
tired. "Is there any evidence for yer charges, Mrs. Bonner? Witnesses?"

"No doubt she'll
call Walter Campbell here tae swear the truth o' it," Moncrieff said
angrily.

A voice rose up, high
and clear. "Simon tolt me what happened. Does that make me a
witness?" Jennet seemed as tiny and unsubstantial as a fairy as she came
down the hall with Robbie MacLachlan, but her voice carried true.

"Come here,
Jennet," said Carryck. His tone still weary, but there was something warm
in it now. "Come here, lass, and tell me what ye heard."

Jennet stopped at the
end of the table, and she looked at each of them in turn. When she reached
Hannah, she smiled.

"Ye've got them
aa taegither finally, yer kin."

"Yes," said
Hannah.

"I'm glad for
ye."

Hannah left Hawkeye's
side and went to stand between Jennet and Robbie.

"What did Simon
tell ye, lass?" Carryck asked.

She kept her eyes
fixed on the earl, as if the sight of him alone could bring this story out of
her. "Simon tolt me that the factor was fou' drunk, and he foucht wi' Lady
Isabel on the road tae the village, and threw her doon and hurt her. He said,
"She doesna want tae marry Moncrieff." He said that muny times."

"The lad was
fevered," said Moncrieff, almost dully. "In a delirium."

"He wasna
fevered," Jennet replied indignantly. "He wasna, no' when he tolt me.
And he swore me tae secrecy and made me put my hand on the Holy Bible, and noo I'm
forsworn and must burn in hell, but I canna keep still no langer." Her
voice wavered, but she pushed on, her anger rising hot now as she turned to
face Moncrieff. "Simon thoucht it was his fault for no' protectin' her,
and my mither thoucht it was her Isabel was runnin' from, but it was you. Ye
couldna ha' the laird's dauchter and sae ye hurt her, and noo she's deid and
ye'll burn in hell, too, for what ye did tae her and tae my brither."

"My lord
Earl," Moncrieff said stiffly. "Can ye take the word o' a hysterical
child ower my own?"

Carryck rose up to his
full height. "She's my own flesh and bluid, Angus."

"She's your
bastard, my lord."

Carryck said,
"I've lost one dauchter. I willna lose anither. I'll marry Jean and make
Jennet my heir."

Perspiration was
beading on Moncrieff's upper lip and brow as he struggled for his composure.
"Breadalbane will challenge ye in the courts."

"Aye. What of
it?"

"My lord,"
said Moncrieff, his voice cracking. "Will ye gamble everythin' for a
whore?"

The word seemed to
echo down the hall. The color drained from Carryck's face to be replaced by a
cold fury, the kind of rage that drives men to murder. Moncrieff saw it, too,
and he drew in a hitching breath and let it go again as Carryck began to speak.

He said, "I find
ye guilty o' rape on my dauchter. I find mysel' guilty o' puttin' my trust in a
coward and a traitor. It is my punishment tae live knowin' tha' I let ye drive
my dauchter awa', but ye'll hang on the morrow."

Moncrieff moved so
fast that later Elizabeth would never be clear on exactly how it had all come
to pass. His arm came up from his side with a glint of flashing metal and
Elizabeth bent over in her chair to cover Lily, seeing Curiosity do the same
with Daniel and taking with her a single glimpse of Jennet's blond head in the
line of fire, with Hannah beside her.
Oh, God, Hannah beside her.
The
men were scrambling, Nathaniel throwing himself across the table at Moncrieff
but too late: the shot rang through the room and somebody screamed.
Me
,
thought Elizabeth
, I screamed
. A second shot from the other end of the
hall and a soft sound of surprise, a rush of breath followed by ringing silence.
Elizabeth looked up from where she cowered on the floor, and she watched Angus Moncrieff
fall, his throat opening like a flower, bright red petals cascading all around him.

Hannah was keening, a
high, sorrowful sound. Curiosity grabbed Elizabeth's arm and pulled her to her
feet to thrust Daniel at her. "Take your son," she said firmly.
"Take him, now." And she climbed over Moncrieff's body--still
twitching, Elizabeth saw, and drew away--in her rush toward the girls.

"Elizabeth."
Nathaniel and Will together at her side, trying to lead her away. Both the babies
walling, but Nathaniel whispered to them,
wheest
, and
wheest
, and
then he was leading her to a chair near the door. "Come, come. Sit here. Sit
down."

"Is she dead? Is
Jennet dead? Is Hannah--"

He put his hands on
her face. She had rarely seen him so pale, except when he was gun-shot himself.

"No," he
said. "Neither of them hurt, not Jennet, not Hannah."

"But listen to
her." She said this calmly, to make him hear what she could hear: Hannah's
heart breaking and Hawkeye singing, very softly. A melody she knew; one she did
not want to hear.

"Who?" she
asked. "Whose death song?"

"Robbie's,"
Nathaniel said. "He stepped in front of the girls and the bullet caught
him in the chest."

"But--" She
looked over her shoulder at Moncrieff, curled like a newborn in his own blood.
His brother had come to pray over him. He made the sign of the cross.

"Jean Hope,"
said Will. "It was Jean Hope who shot him."

Nathaniel said,
"She took her revenge, and Isabel's. And ours, too."

"Good," said
Elizabeth, more calmly than she felt. And then: "Let me go to Robbie. Let me
say good-bye. Please."

He lay on the bloody
flagstones, his head in Hannah's lap. The Hakim and Curiosity were bent over
him, talking quietly together, no urgency now at all. Will had taken the babies
out into the courtyard, where the maids fussed over them, bore them away to a
safer place. And now Jennet wept in her mother's arms while behind them Contrecoeur
murmured to his brother in Latin.