Judith E French (23 page)

“Yes’m.”

“Good. Tell them that Lord Dunnkell won’t need them anymore tonight. They may leave a bill. Also, I want you to find Sterling Comegys and ask him to see to the guests’ departure. He will know what to do.”

When the black girl was gone, Kati turned back to Anne. “I don’t know your Ross Campbell,” she said, “but I know Cameron Stewart. If you’re his daughter, you’re a good judge of men. I’ll say a prayer for your Ross . . . and for you.” She blew out the candle by the bed. “Try and get some rest. Your father is an influential man, and he’s a friend of Governor Calvert. If anything can be done for your husband, Cameron is the one to do it.”

“Pray God, he can,” Anne murmured. “For if judgment goes against us, or if Ross’s wound turns bad, I don’t think I could go on living.”

“So I’ve heard other women say,” Kati replied softly, “but saying is easier than doing. And if you do carry Strathmar’s babe, you have more reason than not for living.”

 

It was nearly noon the following day when Cameron’s servant drove Anne and her father to the Annapolis jail. Again, at Cameron’s insistence, Anne was richly gowned in another of Leah’s dresses, and adorned with magnificent jewelry from her father’s personal collection.

“If Ross is put on trial, we want to impress the good citizens of Annapolis that you are a genteel lady of high birth. Most men are easily deceived,” Cameron said wryly. “They welcome anything that confirms their rigid opinions. You must appear too pure and sweet to have run from a lawful husband into the arms of a lover. And if you are innocent, then it follows that the Master of Strathmar must also be.”

Anne leaned forward on the carriage seat and chewed her lower lip. The fingers of her left hand unconsciously rubbed her amulet.

“I see you kept the gift I gave you as a child,” her father said lightly. “It was my mother’s, and her mother’s before that.”

Puzzled, Anne glanced at him.

“The necklace. Of course, there are two other pieces. I separated it, years ago.”

“Oh . . . yes.” She gripped the charm tightly. “Did you know . . .”

“Of the legend?” He patted her right hand. “My mother told me stories, of course . . .” Cameron sighed and gazed directly into her eyes. “I’m a practical man, well educated. I always prided myself on my intelligence.” His eyes twinkled. “Would a sophisticated man, such as myself, believe in fairy tales? Perhaps I do . . . perhaps not.”

He looked down at Anne’s hand. Heavy rings adorned each of her fingers: diamonds, rubies, and a flawless emerald. “You must keep the rings,” he said, “as a payment on gifts owed.”

She raised her gaze to meet his. “You owe me nothing.”

He sighed. “I’ve been a selfish man, Anne, but I suffered for it. Not one of your birthdays ever passed that I did not grieve for you, not a Christmas or a May Day that I didn’t wish to have you with me. I sent your mother money, of course, but I was afraid to be too open about giving you gifts. There was talk when you were born. Your mother and I . . .” He flushed. “We were not as discreet as we might have been.”

“Barbara was never discreet about her . . . friends.”

“I didn’t give you the necklace to hurt you—ye must know that. My mother entrusted it to me and made me promise to give it to my true daughter. It had been in her family for so many centuries. By giving it to you, I claimed you as my daughter, at least in my own mind. I only hope it hasn’t brought you too much unhappiness.”

“Didn’t I . . . ?” No, she hadn’t told Cameron about what had happened with Ross on the riverbank. It was something so personal that she wasn’t certain she ever could. Did the necklace contain real power? Had the amulet brought her husband back from death?

Troubled, Anne looked away at the sturdy frame houses along this wide dirt street. In one yard, a little dark-haired boy, too young for breeches, ran after a puppy. She swallowed against the thrill that rose in her throat. Did she truly carry Ross’s babe? If it was a boy, would he look like this adorable child? The puppy had allowed itself to be captured. Now, boy and dog were being carried back to the house by a laughing maid.

Cameron squeezed her hand again. “Don’t worry, child. He will be fine. I told you this morning. The loss of so much blood is always frightening, but your husband is as strong as an ox. Governor Calvert was furious with Murrane. He fined him one hundred pounds sterling and confined him to his ship. Neither Murrane nor any of his men are permitted to set foot on the dock until the governor hands down a decision.” Cameron called to the driver. “Pull over here. We can walk around the corner.”

The coachman reined in the matched pair of black horses. Cameron waved him to remain in his seat, pushed down the folding carriage step, and assisted Anne from the vehicle. He nodded to a passing merchant and tucked his arm through his daughter’s.

“Smile to the passersby,” Cameron whispered. “Let them all see you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Mistress Colby.” He removed his three-cornered hat and nodded to the elderly woman going by in a pony cart. “How is your husband’s gout?”

Anne flashed her a demure smile.

“Herbert’s well . . . Thank you, Lord . . . Lord Dunnkell,” Mistress Colby replied, plainly flustered. Her small white dog yapped at them and scrambled up on the cart seat as the fat brown pony ambled by.

Cameron leaned close to Anne. “Good girl. My mother would be as proud of you as I am. She was a strong woman, Anne, and she admired steel in other women.” He nodded to a spare man in black coming toward them with a seaman’s rolling gait. “Captain Taylor. A good day to you, sir.”

“Lord Dunnkell.” The captain removed his hat and bowed to Anne as he walked past.

“I wish I could have known her . . . your mother,” Anne said.

“You’re very like her,” her father answered with a waver in his voice. “You’ve her hair and eyes, but the similarity goes deeper. She was a tiny woman, but she once put King William of Orange in his place when he tried to take advantage of her widowhood. He sent her an apology and this ruby ring to make amends.” Cameron chuckled and indicated the ring on Anne’s little finger. “Mother said she’d rather have a respite on her taxes than the apology, but she kept the ring. We were so poor that one Christmas we ate oat porridge for dinner at the high table—but mother wouldn’t sell the ring. She said it gave us dignity.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Dignity is what we’re showing the masses today, my dear.”

“You were in desperate conditions, yet she never sold the amulet?” Anne asked.

Cameron shook his head. “Nay, lass. She’d have sold me sooner. She never felt the Eye of Mist belonged to her—I think maybe it was the other way around.” He stopped in front of a small brick house. “This is the jailer’s home. I’ve already gotten permission for us to visit the prisoner. Prepare yourself, Anne, a jail is a jail. There are no gentlemen’s cells here.”

Beyond the house was another building. A mastiff chained beside the outside steps growled as they walked by. Cameron knocked on the door, and it was opened by a burly red-haired man named Tom Pate.

The guard peered around suspiciously. “Lord Dunnkell?”

“And the Lady Anne to see Strathmar.” Cameron stared at Tom. “This visit has been approved,” he said sternly. He glanced with contempt at the man’s stocking cap. “Where are your manners?”

The guard flushed beet-red and snatched off his hat. “This way, sir, yer ladyship.” He led them into a sparse room, through a doorway, and down a flight of wooden stairs. As he descended the steps, the guard took a lit lantern from a hook on the wall. “Mind yer step, it’s steep,” he warned.

Anne blinked to accustom her eyes to the darkness on the cellar level. It was cooler here, and damp. The jail reeked of stale beer and urine, and the ceiling and walls were thick with cobwebs. Anne shuddered. She hated spiders.

Brick walls broken by thick wooden doors rose out of the dirt floor. The jailer held the lantern high, and Anne could make out a square hole in the nearest wooden door barely larger than a man’s hand and covered with an iron grate. Anne jumped as a man scraped a tin cup across the inside of the barred peephole.

“Where the hell’s my dinner, Tom?” the prisoner demanded. He followed his question with a string of foul profanity that scorched Anne’s ears.

“Shut up, Wills. They’s a lady out here.” The guard looked at Anne. “Don’t pay no attention to him, ma’am. He don’t know no better—he’s a pirate.”

Wills slammed the cup against the grate again.

“Ye ain’t gettin’ no dinner,” the jailer shouted. “Ye’re hangin’ at dusk, and we ain’t wastin’ no meat on a hanged man.” The second cell was empty, and the door stood ajar. Tom led them to the third door and unlocked it with a large iron key. “The lady can go in, but ye must stay out here,” he explained apologetically. “Rules of the jail, sir. I don’t make ’em, but I lose my job if I don’t keep ’em.” He raised the lantern again.

Anne shuddered as she saw Ross lying on a pile of straw in the far corner of the dirt-floored cell. A bloody bandage was wrapped tightly around his middle. His face was bruised and swollen, his hair loose and tangled with bits of straw. “Oh, Ross,” she cried aloud, She pushed past the guard and ran to her husband. “What have they done to you?”

“Anne?” Ross demanded, rising unsteadily to his feet. “What do ye do here?” He shaded his eyes against the light. “Damn it, Cameron. She’s no business here.”

Anne threw her arms around him. “I belong wherever you are,” she said loudly, pressing herself against him. “I was so frightened.” Ross was as unyielding as the brick walls; Anne could feel the anger emanating from him. “Darling,” she said with false sweetness. “Have you no kiss for your wife?”

Ross’s features were immobile in the flickering lantern light, but she sensed his bewilderment at her unnatural behavior. She lifted her face expectantly.

“Kiss me,” she hissed. When he lowered his head to do so, he put one hand on her waist. Smiling up at him, Anne slid a knife from the folds of her full ruffled sleeve and passed it into his hand. “Because I love you,” she murmured.

“Dearest Anne.” Ross’s fingers locked around the hilt of the knife. “I canna tell ye how much this means to me.”

He released her. Heart pounding, she backed away a few steps. “I can guess,” she said breathlessly. She brought her fingers to her lips and blew him a silent kiss as tears filled her eyes.

“T
ime’s up,” the jailer said, returning down the wooden stairs. “I ain’t supposed to let ye stay in there long.” He looked apologetically at Cameron, standing near the cell’s open doorway, and scratched the back of his dirty neck. “It’s the rules, m’lord.”

Cameron flipped him a silver shilling. “I’d ask no honest man to break his trust, Tom Pate, but I would take it as a personal favor if you’d leave the lantern and return to the top of the stairs.”

“I couldn’t do thet . . .” Warily, the guard hefted the weight of the silver. “’Tis against—”

Cameron smiled with Stewart charm. “Use your head, Tom. The stairs are the only way out of the prison. I give you my word as a gentleman that I have no intention of helping this man to escape. There are muskets in the guard room above. If you stand in the doorway with a gun, you won’t harm anyone by allowing us a little privacy—and you’ll be the richer.”

The redhead frowned.

“Two minutes. And I’ll lock the cell door when we leave. What harm can it do?”

“Two minutes, then,” Tom said reluctantly, “but I swear to ye—lord or no lord—if ye try any tricks, I’ll blow ye to Judgment Day.”

Cameron waited until he heard Tom’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, then he entered Ross’s cell. “Campbell.” His voice was low and angry. “What did she give ye?”

Anne and Ross came to the open doorway of the cell together. “Nothing,” Anne lied. Her knees felt weak, and she could hear her blood pulsing in her head. “I just—”

“Never try to fox an old fox.” Cameron’s face was hard in the lantern light, and Anne’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I told ye to leave this to me. Governor Calvert will allow me to stand bond for Ross. I’ll have him out of this cell in twenty-four hours—legally. Where is your sense, girl? This is no time for your reckless heroics.”

“Anne has no business here at all.” Ross’s voice grated with exhaustion. “Send her to my father at Fort Campbell. She’ll be safe from Murrane there.”

Anne clung to Ross’s arm. “No. I won’t leave him,” she said stubbornly. She’d known that bringing him the knife was risky, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him helpless in prison.

“Fie, Anne. Did ye ever stop to think that if the guard had caught you, you’d be a prisoner in the next cell?” Cameron glanced warily toward the stairs. “Ye must put your trust in me, Ross. I’ll deal with the governor. I know an excellent barrister in Williamsburg. We’ll bring this to trial if need be. We’ll prove your innocence and Murrane’s perfidy. If we don’t, Anne will never be able to hold her head up in decent society, and you’ll spend the rest of your life as a wanted outlaw.”

“To hell with decent society,” Anne whispered hotly. “We’ll go west. No one will find us there. Murrane is too rich and powerful for us to receive justice from the court here in the Maryland Colony.” It was true, she thought. Nothing mattered but Ross’s safety. She didn’t care about her old life—she didn’t even care if he’d married her for her money. All she wanted was for them to be together—and if she had to live like an Indian squaw to have Ross, then she’d put on paint and feathers and learn to chew bearhides.

“If I take Anne into the Ohio Country, none will touch us—of that ye can be certain,” Ross said. He tightened his arm around her. “I believe ye mean us well, Cameron, but—”

Anne heard a stranger’s insistent voice from the room above, then candlelight glowed at the top of the steep stairway. “You’ve another visitor, Master Campbell,” Tom yelled down. “I can’t let him in until the others leave.”

“Do you know who it is?” Cameron asked.

Ross shook his head. “Nay. Unless it be someone who works for me at the store.”

Cameron took hold of Ross’s arm. “I’ll go to the governor now,” he promised. “Do nothing you’ll regret. Remember, if ye escape from here, you’ll become the criminal they say you are. And if you did get away—then what? Ye might be content to live as an Indian in the backwoods, but Anne never will. When ye carried her off from that church, you plucked an English rose, not a wildflower. My daughter loves you with all her heart, but she needs books and music, the companionship of other women of her class. She needs her family. Don’t force her into a life of hardship that will stifle her spirit, lad.”

“I’ll go where you go and live as you live, Ross,” Anne said passionately. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll learn to be the wife you need.”

“Listen to her,” Cameron said with pride in his voice. “You’re a strong man, Ross Campbell, and used to doing things your way. Mayhap it’s time you learned to bend a little. Force Anne to bend too far to your ways, and she’ll snap like an oak sapling in high wind. She might well run off with you now—but what of the years to come? The two of ye can make a life here in America if you’ll have the patience and courage to work this out sensibly. And common sense says ye must be released from this jail legally.”

Ross’s eyes narrowed. “I want your promise that you won’t let Murrane touch her—no matter what,” he demanded fiercely of Cameron.

“She’s my daughter.” Stewart blue eyes locked with eyes of Campbell black.

“Swear,” Ross demanded.

“Aye. I do so swear,” Cameron answered softly. “On my mother’s soul, and on my hope of salvation. Murrane shall not have her.”

“Your time is up, Lord Dunnkell,” the jailer called.

“Not yet,” Anne pleaded. Ross was weak from loss of blood, and the thought of leaving him here in this awful place was almost more than she could bear. “I can’t go yet. Please ask the jailer for a little more time.”

“Don’t worry about him,” her father said. “It will be all right. Have faith, child.” He turned and walked through the darkness.

“Where’s the lady?” Tom asked as Cameron ascended the steps. A small, thick man in a powdered wig and gentleman’s attire stood behind the jailer. “Solicitor Andrew Freeman to see the prisoner, sir. He can’t go down until the lady comes up.”

“I’m certain Master Freeman won’t mind, will you?” Cameron passed Tom another coin. “Lady Anne is concerned for her husband’s health, and rightly so. She will be along directly.”

The solicitor nodded to Cameron and went down the stairs, candlestick in hand.

“Wait,” Tom insisted. “I said—”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Cameron soothed. “You know Master Freeman. He handles Governor Calvert’s personal affairs from time to time. Surely you don’t believe him a conspirator in an escape plot.”

“No, but rules is—”

“Aye, and ye have done your job admirably. I intend to praise you to the governor myself.” Cameron beamed at the jailer. “I’m on my way to see him now. I’m certain . . .” Cameron kept up a running conversation as the guard unlocked the front door and let him out.

Below in the prison, Andrew Freeman greeted Ross nervously. “Good day, Master Strathmar.”

“Not the best place to conduct business, is it?” Ross asked lightly. He introduced Anne, explaining that Freeman had acted as solicitor for the family for many years. “I have the greatest trust in Andrew,” he added.

“You can imagine how distressed I was when I heard that you were incarcerated, Master Strathmar.” He cleared his throat. “I received a letter from my brother’s firm in London yesterday, sir, concerning the land purchase.”

Ross nodded. “Aye.” He looked down at Anne. “Before I set sail for Scotland, we instructed Andrew to make contact with the Englishman who claimed Wanishish-eyun and begin negotiations to buy the land from him.” He sighed. “At that time, Daddy and I were certain that we’d have the money from his earldom to pay for it.”

Freeman looked uncomfortable. “We did find out who owned the land grant, sir, but we haven’t been able to inquire about purchasing it.” He glanced at Anne. “Did you wish me to give you my full report here, sir? In front of the lady . . .”

Ross grinned for the first time since Anne had arrived at the prison. “Aye, man, get on with it. She is my wife—I have no secrets from her.”

“Well . . .” Andrew Freeman drew himself up importantly and adjusted his wire spectacles. “Finding the lawful owner required time but no real skill. It seems the land grant has remained in one family since the time of the Restoration. The problem is that the present owner . . . well . . .” Freeman made a droll sound in his throat. “It seems the man we were hunting for is dead, and the new heir is missing. He left his title to a nephew, but all else—part and parcel—went to his young widow.”

“And? And? Get on with it. How can the lady be missing?”

“I’m not certain, sir. Rather, I do know why she’s missing. It’s quite the talk of London. Naturally, if no one can find her, we can’t find her either. And if we can’t find her, it’s impossible to inquire about purchasing the land grant.”

“Who is this lady?” Anne asked. “I know a good many people of quality. Perhaps she is an acquaintance of mine.”

Freeman rocked forward on the balls of his small feet and handed Ross a packet of papers. “We are searching for the Marchioness of Scarbrough, widow of the late marquis.” The solicitor leaned closer. “All we could learn of the poor Lady Anne was that she’d been kidnapped at her own wedding last winter and has never been heard of since.”

Anne was stunned. “You’re not serious,” she said. “If this is some sort of jest, I find your humor quite—”

“Madam,” Freeman replied indignantly, “it is not my habit to make light of my duties.”

“Nay,” Ross agreed. His dark gaze flicked from Freeman to Anne and back to the solicitor. “Andrew is a serious man. Are ye certain of what ye say, man? The land that Fort Campbell is built on belonged to the late Lord Scarbrough?”

“It did. He left it, as I said . . .” The solicitor scowled at Anne. “He left the property to his widow, the Lady Anne, born Anne Fielding of Langstone.”

Anne stepped back away from Ross and clasped her amulet. It wasn’t possible. She’d heard Henry speak of a land grant in America but . . . She swallowed to ease the tightening of her throat as butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “
I . . . I
didn’t know,” she whispered, feeling suddenly giddy.

“Is this missing lady of legal age?” Ross asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it is with this mysterious Lady Anne that I must conduct my business.”

Freeman pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Most assuredly, Master Strathmar.”

“That’s all I need to know, Andrew,” Ross said. “Thank you for your prompt attention to the matter.”

Freeman looked puzzled. “Do you wish us to continue the search for the missing lady?”

Ross smiled. “Nay, that will not be necessary. When this nonsense with Baron Murrane is settled, I’ll be in to talk with you. But ye may consider that your search was most successful.”

Anne didn’t speak again until Andrew Freeman was gone. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “How could I be the owner of Fort Campbell? I never knew it existed until you took me there. I—”

“All this time,” Ross interrupted. “Yours from your dead husband.” He took her hands and pulled her close. “Mayhap ’tis more magic, hinney. But magic or nay, ’tis a muckle weight off my shoulders. And a man could do worse than have a witch for a wife.”

His touch sent thrills up and down her spine. “And a woman could do worse than have a feathered barbarian for a husband,” she said softly, and her heart filled with love for him as she tilted her face up to meet his tender kiss.

 

Three days later, Anne stood beside Ross’s bed and watched out the window as the physician drove away down the tree-lined lane of Brandon and Leah’s house. “The doctor is right, you know,” she said. “You do have a dangerous wound. You must rest if it’s going to heal properly.”

Ross tucked his hands behind his head and lay back against the heaped pillows. “Ye make me feel like a babe, fussing over me. I’ve been run through with a sword before.”

“This time you lost a lot of blood, and Dr. Johnson says there is infection.”

“Aye. And what did he suggest? He wanted to bleed me more.” Ross grimaced. “I’ve no faith in your English physicians. If Leah were here, she’d make me a poultice that would draw out the poison.”

“Well, she isn’t here, and you’ll have to make do with me as a nurse.” Anne sat on the bed and clasped his big hand in hers. “Remember what my father said. You have to learn patience.”

Cameron had done as he’d promised. He’d convinced Governor Calvert to release Ross from the jail. Anne suspected that her father had put up his plantation as bond, and the thought that he would do so for Ross made her all warm inside.

“The governor has set a guard on the dock to make certain Murrane obeys his instructions about not coming ashore,” Cameron had said when he’d accompanied them from the jail to Brandon’s manor house. “It may be months before Governor Calvert’s letters reach London and he receives an answer. Meanwhile, I’ve asked your solicitor, Freeman, to send to Scotland for a copy of your marriage lines. The dominie who performed the ceremony may be dead, but he should have recorded and filed it with his church. I’ve never known a clergyman to fail to do so. When Murrane sees how long a wait he’ll have before the matter comes to court, I’ll wager he’ll sail back to England, and you’ll have heard the last of him.”

Her father had returned last night, and again this morning. It was at his insistence that Dr. Johnson had come once a day to treat Ross’s wound. “I’ve seen strong men take lockjaw and die in agony from far less than Ross’s injury,” Cameron had said. “Since you’ve had the good sense to choose a Scot, the least we can do is keep him alive to plague you.”

As glad as Anne was to have Ross out of jail and with her, she was greatly troubled that he was still running a low-grade fever. And despite the fever, it was nearly impossible for her to keep him in bed.

“Ye’ll make a milksop of me,” Ross protested. He’d thrown Brandon’s purple velvet dressing gown across the room so that he wore nothing beneath the sheets but the bandages and his own pride. She had brushed his long hair back and tied it at the nape of his neck with a red silk ribbon. Even with his unnaturally pale complexion, Anne thought he was the most virile-looking man she’d ever seen.