Sophia's Secret (42 page)

Stunned, Sophia watched him. She had never seen a man do murder. Not like this. This was, she thought, how Moray must himself be on the battlefield – he too must wear that calm face that had set aside its conscience, and his eyes would, like his uncle’s, hold a fire she did not recognise. It shook her to observe the transformation.

She was staring at him, wordless, when the colonel’s features altered once again. The soldier’s face became the face she knew, and all the fury melted from his eyes as he bent down to her. Concerned, he asked her, ‘Are ye hurt?’

She could not frame the words to answer, shaken still by Wick’s attack, by what she had just witnessed. But she slowly shook her head. The pain of that small action made her wince.

The colonel placed a gentle hand beneath her, fingers warm against her hair, and then withdrew it. She could see his palm was wet with blood. Her blood.

‘Christ.’ He looked around and seemed to be deciding something, thinking quickly. Then he leant in close again. ‘I need ye to be brave now for me, lass. We need to get ye home, and if I could I’d carry ye, but then the people that we pass would ken that ye’ve been hurt. There would be questions. Do ye follow what I’m saying?’ Just to make sure that she understood, he spelt it out more plainly. ‘No one saw this. No one kens Wick’s dead. And when they find his body, if they do, they will believe he fell by accident. And Ogilvie,’ he told her, ‘will believe it, too.’

He held her gaze a moment, making sure she took his meaning, and she knew that he had overheard Wick’s threat to her. For that at least, she thought, she could be grateful – Billy Wick had done what she could not. He’d given proof to Colonel Graeme by his words that Ogilvie, despite his years of service to King James, had come among them as a traitor and a spy.

She knew that Captain Ogilvie must never know the truth of what had happened on this hill, or he would know that he himself had been discovered.

Looking up at Colonel Graeme, she breathed deep and found her voice again to tell him, ‘I can walk.’

He helped her stand, and held her steady on her feet, and with the hands that had so lately killed a man he gently drew the soft hood of her cloak up so it hid the blood upon her hair. ‘Brave lass,’ he called her, with a trace of pride, and placed her hand upon his arm. ‘Go slowly now, and keep your head up. ’Tis not far to go.’

That was a lie, and well he knew it, for the walk was not a short one, but she managed it, and Ogilvie himself would not have known that she was injured, had he seen them coming up the path to Slains. She did not see him anywhere, but she could not be certain he was not against some window, looking out, and so she kept her head held high as Colonel Graeme had advised her, though the throbbing in it pained her and she felt at any moment she might faint.

The chills of shock had settled well upon her and her limbs were trembling, but the colonel’s strong arm underneath her hand was a support. They had not far to go now, to the great front steps.

‘How did you know?’ she asked him, and he turned toward her, with an eyebrow lifting.

‘What, that ye had need of help? I kent when I came back here and I saw the gardener setting out. I saw the way he marked that I was on my own, and I could see he had a mind for mischief. So I came,’ he said, ‘to fetch ye home.’

A few more paces, and he’d have accomplished that. She fought the rising blackness, and looked up at him in hopes that he could see beyond the pain that filled her eyes and know her gratitude. The words took effort. ‘Colonel?’

‘Aye, lass?’

‘Thank you.’

For an answer Colonel Graeme brought his free hand over and for one brief moment squeezed her fingers where they lay upon his arm, but they had reached the entry now and no more could be said, for Captain Ogilvie himself was waiting just inside the door, to bid them welcome.

‘Ye’ve been walking, so I see.’

‘Aye,’ Colonel Graeme answered smoothly, ‘but I fear I’ve worn the wee lass out, and given her a headache from the cold.’

She forced a smile and took the cue. ‘I can assure you, Colonel, it is nothing that a short rest will not remedy.’

‘Och, there, ye see?’ said Ogilvie. ‘The lassies these days, Graeme, are a stronger breed than those we lost our hearts to.’

‘Aye,’ said Colonel Graeme. ‘That they are.’ His eyes were warm upon Sophia’s. ‘Take your rest, then. I’ve no doubt Captain Ogilvie can take your place for once across the chessboard.’ And he raised an eyebrow once again to look a challenge at the older man and ask him lightly, ‘Can I tempt ye to a game?’

And Captain Ogilvie, not knowing that the rules had changed, accepted.

‘Right.’ The colonel clapped a hand upon his old friend’s shoulder, smiling. ‘Let me see the lass upstairs and find her maid to tend her headache, first. And then the two of us,’ he said, ‘can play.’

Dr Weir was pleased. ‘Well, that’s much better.’ He re-wrapped the bandage round my ankle, satisfied. ‘Much better. You took my advice and stayed off it, I see.’

Something in the way he said that prompted me to ask, ‘You didn’t think I would?’

Behind the rounded spectacles his sage eyes briefly twinkled. ‘Let’s just say you strike me as the sort of lass who likes to pipe her own tune.’

I smiled, because no one had so neatly put their finger on that aspect of my character since my kindergarten teacher in her end-of-year report had written: ‘Carrie listens to the ideas of other children, but likes her own ideas best’. I didn’t share that with the doctor, only told him, ‘Yes, well, every now and then I take advice. And it hasn’t been hard to stay off it. The book has been keeping me busy.’

‘That’s good. Are you still needing details on spies? Because I did some reading, and found you a good one. You mind how we were talking about Harley?’

Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford and a man of power in the government of England, who was also Queen Anne’s spymaster. I nodded.

Dr Weir said, ‘I was reading up on Harley, with a mind to finding out a wee bit more about Defoe for you, and I came across some letters from
another
agent Harley sent to Scotland at the time, and who was actually at Slains.’

The feeling that was pricking at my shoulder blades was not unlike the feeling that I got when I sensed something sneaking up on me. And so it didn’t come as a complete surprise when Dr Weir said, ‘Ogilvie, his name was. Captain Ogilvie.’ He reached inside his pocket and produced some folded notepaper. ‘I copied out the letters…well, they’re excerpts, really. Not much there. But still, I thought the name might be of use.’

I thanked him. Took the papers, and unfolded them to read the lines in silence. They began with an account of Captain Ogilvie’s brief visits with the nobles of the north of Scotland and what he had learnt from them, then on to Slains, where the Countess of Erroll had received him with suspicion, and where luckily for Ogilvie there’d been a certain ‘Colonel Graeme’, of whom Ogilvie had written: ‘He and I served formerly in France together, and we were long bed fellows.’

Dr Weir, watching my face while I read, asked, ‘What is it?’

I lowered the papers. ‘You’ve read these?’

‘I have.’

With a faint smile I rose to my feet and crossed over to sort through the short stack of new printed pages beside my computer. Picking up the last three chapters I had written, I turned back and held them out in invitation. ‘Then,’ I told the doctor, ‘you should have a look at
these
.’

He did. And when he’d finished, he looked over at me, wordlessly.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘That’s what I mean by proof, though. When I wrote that, I had no idea that there even was a Captain Ogilvie, or Colonel Graeme. Characters just come to me like that sometimes. They just show up. In any other book I would have said that my subconscious had invented them to serve the plot. But in this book, it doesn’t seem like I’m inventing anything. And now you give me this’ – I held the copied letters up – ‘and I have proof both men are real, and that they truly were at Slains.’

He was still taking it all in, I knew. ‘Remarkable,’ he said, and scanned my chapters for a second time. ‘It’s too bad Captain Ogilvie makes no mention of your Sophia in his letters to Harley.’

‘I doubt he would have thought she was important.’

Dr Weir’s eyes twinkled knowingly again as he passed back my chapters. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘he would have made a very grave mistake.’

The countess and the colonel were both sitting by Sophia’s bed when she awoke. She heard them talking.

‘’Tis the safest course to take,’ said Colonel Graeme, ‘for ye cannot have him here when Fleming’s ship arrives.’

‘No, that would be disastrous.’ In the soft light of the early morning no lines marked the fine face of the countess. She looked youthful, and determined. ‘No, I do agree he must be led away. But Patrick, let some other person do it. Let my son take on that burden – he is willing, and we would not see you put yourself at risk.’

‘Your son will be more needed here, with what is coming. And I doubt that Captain Ogilvie would follow him as he would me. We are old friends.’ The words were edged with bitter cynicism. ‘I do have his trust.’

The countess waited for a moment before saying, ‘I am sorry.’

‘So am I. He was the very best of men, once.’

‘He must need the money badly.’ It was very like the countess, thought Sophia, to have sympathy enough to seek excuses for a traitor. Colonel Graeme did not share her generosity.

‘A man, when he has fallen on hard times, should seek his friends,’ he said. ‘Not sell them to his enemies.’

The countess could not argue that. She only said, ‘Take care he does not sell you, too.’

‘Och, not to worry. He’ll not have the chance. I’ll not be staying once I get him there. Ye ken yourself, your Ladyship, I’m canny as a fox, and there’ll be holes enough in Edinburgh to hide me.’

On the bed, Sophia came to full awareness now and moved against the pillow, and that movement brought the heads of both the countess and the colonel round. She thought she read relief in both their faces.

‘There,’ the countess said. ‘We’ve woken her. I warned you that we would. How do you feel, my dear?’

Sophia’s head still hurt her, but the dizziness was gone, and though her body ached in places and her limbs felt stiff and bruised, she could not bring herself to make any complaint. ‘I am well, thank you.’

A flash of admiration briefly lit the older woman’s eyes. ‘Brave girl.’ She gave Sophia’s arm a pat. ‘I will let Kirsty know you are awake, so she can bring your morning draught.’

It was a measure of how highly she regarded Colonel Graeme that she left him in the room without a chaperone, although from how he sat, with booted ankles crossed upon the side rail of the bed, his lean frame firmly rooted in the rush-backed chair, Sophia doubted any force would have the power to shift him.

She looked at him and asked, ‘The countess…did you tell her…?’

‘Aye. She kens the whole of it.’ His smile was faint behind the beard. ‘I think if I’d not sent the gardener on his way already to the devil, she’d have had it done herself last night.’

‘And Captain Ogilvie?’

‘I’ve managed to persuade him to accompany me to Edinburgh. I’ve led him to believe there is some matter in the wind down there that does deserve his interest, and that he, as a supporter of King James, will want to witness. ’Twas like saying to a wolf there is a field of lambs yet further on, if ye’ve the wish to feast.’

‘So you are leaving.’ Having said the words out loud, she felt a sadness she could not express, and did not want to think of life at Slains without this man who had become to her a father and a friend.

He did not answer her, but only watched her face a moment, silently. And then he said, ‘Sophia, there is something I would ask ye.’ He had never called her by her Christian name, and from that fact she knew that what he meant to ask was serious. ‘’Tis none of my affair. But on that hill, when Wick was…’ Breaking off, as though he did not think it was a gentlemanly thing to speak of Billy Wick’s intentions, he said only, ‘He made mention of my nephew. And of you.’

She met his gaze, and did not look away. ‘He overheard us speaking in the garden.’

‘Aye, I gathered that.’ He paused, and sifted words to find the right ones. ‘As I said, I’ve no right asking, but I wondered…’

‘You were wondering what Mr Wick had overheard that night that could so interest Captain Ogilvie?’

Apparently relieved by her directness, he said, ‘Aye, that was the size of it.’

Sophia raised a hand to feel the slender chain around her neck. Slowly drawing out the ring from where it lay concealed beneath her bodice, she held it up to show him. There was no need to say anything, to make an explanation. It was plain from Colonel Graeme’s own reaction that the sight of Moray’s ring around her neck told him enough.

His smile was slow. ‘I must confess, I did suspect ye would have caught his eye. We’re not so different, John and I, and were I his age I’d have done no less than try to win ye for myself. But it does please me, lass, to see he did conduct himself with honour. Will ye marry?’

‘I did marry him by handfast, soon before he did return to France.’ She closed her hand around the ring and felt its warmth. ‘The countess does not know. John thought it best to keep the matter secret till he could return. But,’ she went on, not wanting him to think that she’d betrayed his nephew’s wishes, ‘he did say that I might show his kin.’

‘Well, I should hope so.’ He pretended indignation with the small lift of an eyebrow, though his eyes and words were serious. ‘Ye’ll find there’s not a one of us who would not walk through fire to keep ye safe for John, lass. Ye would only have to ask.’

Moray had told her so himself, but she was deeply touched to hear it said aloud by his own kinsman. ‘You have walked through fire for me already, Colonel,’ she said quietly.

‘Aye, so I have. And so I would again,’ he promised, ‘even if ye did not wear that bit of silver round your neck.’

She knew he meant it. Sudden dampness pricked behind her eyes, and since he’d always praised her courage she would not have shown him weakness, so she bent her head and made a show of concentration on concealing Moray’s ring again, lest other eyes should see it. But she did not trust her voice, and did not know the way to let the colonel know how fond she had become of him, and how much she would miss him when he’d gone.