Sophia's Secret (36 page)

There, she thought. Let him explain his visit, and the reason he’d come all this way without first sending word. If what the countess thought was true, he’d likely come to spy on them, and gain his own intelligence on what was being done at Slains in preparation for the king’s arrival. If that was so, Sophia thought, then he must now be thinking himself fortunate to find, in place of the more suspicious countess and the forceful young earl, a mere girl, on her own and – to his mind – a lamb to be easily led.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I do regret I am come unannounced, but till today I did not know my business would compel me so far north. I thought only to pay my respects, I’ll not trouble the family by staying. No doubt they’ve had enough guests, lately.’

She saw it for herself, that time – the briefest flash behind his smiling eyes, but still she saw it, and knew she had done right to treat him warily. ‘No guests as gracious as yourself,’ was how she stepped around the trap. And then she asked, as any young and guileless girl might ask, what news there was from Edinburgh, what gossip from the English court, and what the latest changes were in fashion.

Their conversation was a sort of dance, she thought, with complicated steps, but as the time wore on she grew to know the way of it, and when to step, and when to twirl, and when to simply stand and wait.

He led with skill, not asking questions outright but arranging his own statements so that she would follow on with some small bit of information, but she kept her own wits sharp and always countered with a seemingly ingenuous response that gave him nothing in the way of satisfaction.

She felt sure he did not know she was doing it deliberately – the duke was not the sort of man to credit someone like herself with that kind of ability – but still, throughout the afternoon his speech took on a faint edge of frustration, as a man might feel who tries to do a simple task and finds himself confounded.

Yet he did not leave, not even after four o’clock had come and they’d been brought the usual refreshments for that hour of wine and ale, and little cakes in place of bread today because there was a visitor. Sophia had thought, after that, the duke would surely take his leave and carry on his way to where he meant to spend the night, but he did not. He only settled deeper in his chair, and spoke at greater length, with greater charm, to make the dance steps still more intricate.

Sophia matched the effort with her own, but found it tiring. By the time she heard the sound of steps and voices from the entry hall that told her that the countess and her son had finally come, Sophia’s mind was near exhaustion.

She was grateful when the countess, with her vibrant presence, swept into the drawing room. ‘Your Grace, this is an unexpected pleasure.’ From her easy smile one would have thought she meant it. ‘I confess that I did scarce believe the servants when they told me you were here. Have you been waiting long?’

‘I have been well attended,’ he assured her. He had risen from his chair to greet her, and now gave a nod towards Sophia. ‘Mistress Paterson and I have passed the time in conversation.’

The countess’s own glance at Sophia betrayed none of the concern she must have felt at that revelation. ‘Then I do not doubt that you have found her as delightful a companion as I do myself. Her presence in this house does daily bring me joy, especially since all my girls are married now, and gone from home.’ Returning her attention to the duke, she said, ‘You will stay the night?’

‘Well…’ He made a show of protestation.

‘Yes, of course you will. ’Tis nearly dusk, you cannot venture out upon the road so late.’

The Earl of Erroll, coming through the doorway of the drawing room, agreed. ‘We would not hear of it.’ He gave the duke a hearty greeting, proving that his acting skills were equal to his mother’s. ‘It has been some time since you were last here. Come, let me show you the improvements we are making to the house.’

When the men had departed the countess sagged visibly, showing the strain of her hard ride from Dunottar. Turning to Sophia, she began to frame a question, but Sophia said, ‘He came just after midday and has been with me for all this time. And as you did suspect, he seemed determined to confuse me into telling him the secrets of this house.’

The countess softened. ‘Oh, my dear.’

‘I told him nothing.’ She was feeling more than tired, now. The sickness was returning, but she fought it as she used the chair’s support to rise and stand before the countess. ‘I was careful.’

‘Oh, my dear,’ the countess said again, but with a thread of warm approval in her voice. ‘I am but sorry you were here alone to shoulder such a burden.’

‘It was no great trouble.’

‘Nonsense. It has wearied you.’ The countess moved to help her. ‘You are pale.’

‘’Tis but a headache.’

‘Go and rest, then. You have earned it.’ Once again Sophia felt that gentle touch upon her cheek, so like the memory of her mother’s loving hand. The countess smiled. ‘You have done well, Sophia. Very well. Now go and get some rest. The earl and I are equal to the duke’s designs. We have him well in hand, and I would not for all the world have you fall ill because of such a man.’ Her brief embrace was soothing. ‘Up you go, and seek your chamber. I’ll send Kirsty to attend you.’

So Sophia gladly went, and after that remembered little of the evening, which she passed in waves of sickness and of sleep. But in the morning, whether from the drink of herbs that Kirsty’s sister had supplied or from some miracle, the sickness had departed, and the duke had gone as well, his dark coach setting off along the northern road before the sun was fully risen, and himself no wiser than he’d been before he’d come to Slains.

‘It isn’t broken.’ Dr Weir’s hands moved reassuringly across my swollen ankle. ‘If you’d broken it, you’d feel it here’ – he gently squeezed the place – ‘not here. It’s just a sprain.’ He’d slipped easily into the role he’d retired from. He might have been wearing a white coat and stethoscope, questioning one of his surgical patients, not sitting here next to my fireplace and wearing a fisherman’s sweater that still held the damp from the rain.

Reaching for a roll of wide elastic bandage, he glanced up from beneath his eyebrows. ‘Stuart said you took a tumble off the path.’

Stuart evidently hadn’t trusted me to keep my word and show my injured ankle to the doctor on my own, so he’d arranged this morning’s house call. I suspected that his version of my accident, no doubt with ample mention of his own role in my rescue, would have gone a bit beyond the simple fact that I had fallen from the path, but, ‘Yes, that’s what I did.’

This time the upwards glance was curious. ‘It’s not a narrow path.’

I could think of no good reason not to tell him what I thought might be the truth. ‘Well, I was daydreaming a bit, not really paying much attention, and I think that I was walking where I
thought
the path would be.’ I met his eyes. ‘Where I remembered it had been.’

‘I see.’ He took this in. ‘How very interesting.’ In silent thought he wrapped the bandage firmly round my ankle and sat back with the expression of a scientist considering a curious hypothesis. ‘It’s possible, of course. The hillside would have changed a good deal since that time, from the erosion of the wind and tides. It’s possible the old path fell away.’

‘And I fell with it.’ With a rueful smile, I turned my ankle, testing it.

‘Aye, well, you’ll want to take care up at Slains, then, won’t you? You’ll do more than hurt your ankle if you lose your footing there.’

I looked beyond his shoulder to the window with its view of those red walls that clung so fiercely to the rocky cliffs, in shadow now that dark clouds had begun to mass above the sea to block the sun. ‘I don’t imagine I’ll be up there in the next few days.’

He paused, then asked me, ‘When you’re up there, walking through the rooms, what does it feel like?’

It was tricky to explain. ‘Like everyone just left the room as I walked in. I almost hear their steps, the swishing of their gowns, but I can never quite catch up with them.’

‘I thought perhaps,’ he said, ‘you might see flashes of the past, there in the ruins.’

‘No.’ I looked a moment longer and then pulled my gaze away. ‘The memories aren’t at Slains, itself. They’re locked in my subconscious, and they come out while I’m writing, though I’m not sure they
are
memories till I’ve had a chance to test them.’ And I told him how his
Old Scots Navy
book had proved my Captain Gordon scenes were factual. ‘I’ve decided not to read the book at all, I’m only using it to verify the details once I’ve written down a scene. But not everything is that easy to prove. I’ve just found out my heroine is pregnant, for example, so to prove she really was I’d have to find a record of the child’s birth or baptism that lists Sophia as the mother. Records from so long ago don’t always tell you what you need to know, if you can track them down at all. There are a lot of people in our family tree my dad can’t find, and he’s been working on the thing for years.’

‘But you’d be at a slight advantage with Sophia Paterson,’ he pointed out. ‘You have a window on her life.’

‘That’s true. I know the dates of some events now, and the places where they happened, and my dad did find the proof of
those
.’

The mention of my father caught his interest. ‘Did you tell him?’

‘How I got the information? Yes. I didn’t have much choice.’

‘And what does he think about all of this?’

I didn’t know for certain what my father thought. ‘He said he’d keep an open mind.’ My tone turned dry. ‘I think he would have liked it better if I’d inherited the memory of Sophia’s husband, David McClelland. Daddy still has lots of blanks he’d like to fill in on that side.’

The doctor watched me closely for a minute. ‘I’d imagine that he’s envious.’

‘My father?’

‘Aye. And so am I. Who wouldn’t be? Most people dream of travelling through time.’

I knew that he was right. There’d been so many novels written round that premise, and so many movies made where people journeyed to the future, or the past, that it was clear to see the theme was an enduring one, a common human fantasy.

And one the doctor evidently shared. ‘And when I think what it would mean to have the memory of an ancestor, to see what they had seen… I told you, did I not, that one of my own ancestors was captain of a ship? He sailed to China, once, and to Japan. I might have his love of the sea, but I don’t have his actual memories.’ His eyes grew wistful. ‘And what memories they must have been – of storms at sea, and sailing round the Cape, and seeing China in the glory of its empire…who wouldn’t wish for that?’

I had no answer to his question, but it lingered in my mind when he had gone, as did his mention of the sea and of the men who’d sought their fortune on its waves. The wind was rising at my window, and a winging band of low white cloud was closing on the castle. And in my imagination – or my memory – it began to take the shape of something else.

Captain Gordon’s ship had not been seen along the coast for so long that Sophia had begun to wonder what might have become of him. From time to time a dinner guest brought news of all the changes that were happening in Scotland and in England, from the Union of the nations, so she knew the Scottish navy had been feeling the effects of it as well, and she could only guess that Captain Gordon’s orders had been altered so that he no longer sailed according to his former course.

She was surprised, then, when she woke one bright blue morning in the last days of October and looked out to see the now-familiar masts and rigging of his ship at anchor close below the cliffs.

He had not changed. His features were as handsome and his manners were as gallant as before. ‘I swear, your Ladyship, each time I come to Slains young Mistress Paterson looks lovelier.’

He kissed her hand with warmth, and though Sophia did not welcome his attentions, she was nonetheless relieved to know that he, like all the others except Kirsty, had not noticed her condition. For in truth it did not show – she was but five months gone, her stomach still was flat, although it had begun to soften, and the fashion of her gowns was so forgiving that she knew it might be some time yet before she was found out. She felt quite healthy, with an energy that fired her from within and made her happy with the world. It was perhaps this radiance, she thought, that Captain Gordon had perceived.

He stayed to dinner, and when wine was poured he took his glass in hand and raised it in a toast to young King James. ‘God grant that he comes soon.’

The countess drank, and set her glass down, smiling. ‘Were it up to God alone, I do not doubt but that the king would have been here already. But God passes His affairs into the hands of men, and there the trouble lies.’

‘What says the Duke of Perth, your brother? He is there at Saint-Germain, and has the king’s ear, does he not? What does he take to be the cause of their delay?’

‘He tells me little in his letters, out of fear they will be read by other eyes than mine. But he is as impatient as the rest of us,’ she said. ‘I sense the problem does not lie at Saint-Germain, but at Versailles. The King of France does hold the purse-strings of this venture, after all, and the ships cannot set sail without his order.’

Captain Gordon said, ‘In their defence, I must admit the winds of late have not been very favourable. Last month when setting out from Yarmouth we were damaged so severely in a gale that we were forced to put back altogether, and a few weeks afterwards, when coming into Leith, we found the winds so bad that it was not until some three days after we had dropped our anchor that I could be rowed ashore. Not that I minded, for in truth I had all but exhausted my store of tricks for delaying the voyage.’

The earl asked him, ‘Why would you wish to do that?’

‘Why, to give the French fleet a fair run at our coast. I had hoped they would have brought young James across before now, for there was a long time when my ship and I were being settled into our positions in this new united Royal Navy of Great Britain. Both Captain Hamilton and I appeared before the Navy Board the first few days in August, to receive our new commissions and the new names of our ships, there being English ships already named the
Royal William
and the
Royal Mary
. My ship is now the
Edinburgh
, while Captain Hamilton’s is called the
Glascow
. After this our ships were both surveyed to judge how fit they were for service, which took time, and then both ships were ordered brought into a dry dock for refitting, so for all that time there was no ship assigned to cruise this northern coast. The king would have done well had he but seized that as his moment. But,’ he said, and shrugged, ‘for reasons that do pass my understanding, he did not, and I was after ordered northward. There was little I could do but make my progress slow, by means of varied misadventures. You’ll have heard, no doubt, what did befall the
Edinburgh
at Leith?’ He glanced around at their expectant faces. ‘No? Then you have been deprived of a diverting tale. My crew,’ he said, ‘did mutiny.’