God's Highlander (19 page)

Alasdair was grubby and unkempt, his beard almost as wild as when Wyatt had first met him on the banks of Loch Eil. His clothes were crumpled and dirty, with straws of various lengths attached to them.

For his part, Alasdair Burns could not hide his distress at having the factor's daughter see him in such surroundings.

‘Alasdair, are you all right?' It was as much as Evangeline could do to fight off tears at his plight.

Watching the pair of them, Wyatt wondered what John Garrett's reaction would have been had he been able to witness the same scene.

‘What are both of you doing here in Edinburgh? Don't tell me you've come all this way just to visit a one-legged Chartist troublemaker? '

Wyatt suspected the unwarranted description was Alasdair Burns's way of preparing Evangeline for the charges he might have to face. ‘We've come here to secure the release of a dear friend. We intend setting about it as soon as possible. You're needed to teach school in Eskaig.'

Alasdair Burns released his hands from Evangeline's grasp as gently as he could. ‘You're talking of another world, Wyatt. I was another man there. I thought I might escape from the past, but it's caught up with me.'

‘You mustn't talk like that, Alasdair. Mustn't even
think
that way.' Evangeline reached through the bars and grasped one of the imprisoned
man's hands once more. ‘You're a good man. The people of Eskaig know this and they want you back.'

Struggling to keep control of the self-pity welling up inside him, Alasdair Burns said: ‘Talking of Eskaig people, how's young Jimmy Gordon?'

‘He's a very sick little boy,' said Wyatt. ‘Were you able to speak to the surgeon you hoped might be able to help?'

Alasdair Burns shook his head angrily, his own problems forgotten. ‘Surgeon Murdoch is a busy man, but I managed to find his son, the one I was in school with. He was going to speak to his father. I was to call back and see him. That was three weeks ago. I've been locked up here ever since.'

‘Tell me where I might find this friend of yours. I'll go to him tonight, when I've seen Evangeline settled in with her friends.'

‘You've only just arrived in Edinburgh and came straight here to see me?' Alasdair Burns was deeply moved. ‘Thank you. Thank you both; you're good friends indeed.'

The other inmates of the cell nodded their heads vigorously. They had been following the conversation with great interest.

The warder chose this moment to return. ‘You'll have to leave now. The chief warder's very strict about not having visitors inside these walls after dark. Besides' – the warder lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper – ‘there's things as goes on inside a prison at night that no respectable young lady should ever know about.'

After giving Alasdair Burns a few shillings and learning where his doctor friend was to be found, Wyatt and Evangeline left the prison. It would have put the schoolteacher's life in jeopardy had they given him more money. As it was, Evangeline would never forget the scene in the remand cell when she looked back as she and Wyatt reached the first iron-grille gate and saw the ragged prisoners clamouring about Alasdair.

Evangeline vowed to herself that she would not rest until Alasdair Burns was a free man.

T
HE NEXT MORNING Wyatt rose early to see Hamish Murdoch off on the dawn coach to Glasgow. Surgeon Murdoch was too busy to make a six-day round journey to a remote Highland village to treat one small boy. However, his physician son had worked as his father's assistant for two years and was willing to undertake the journey. He would stay at the manse in Eskaig and treat the journey as a holiday. If, after examining Jimmy Gordon, he felt anything more might be accomplished in Edinburgh, he would return with the boy and his mother to the city hospital where his father practised.

The details had been thrashed out at a meeting held in Surgeon Murdoch's house the previous night and lasting until well after midnight. Wyatt guaranteed to reimburse any expenses incurred by the physician. The villagers of Eskaig had already offered financial help if it was found to be necessary for the boy to come to Edinburgh.

It seemed everything was in hand in respect of young Jimmy Gordon, but the problem of Alasdair Burns had yet to be resolved.

At ten o'clock that morning Evangeline and Wyatt met at the office of the sheriff, to enquire into the circumstances of Alasdair Burns's arrest. Wyatt had hoped to enlist Lord Kilmalie's aid in securing the schoolteacher's release. Unfortunately, the Eskaig landowner was in London, undergoing medical treatment. However, Charles Graham, the Kilmalie estate administrator, had given Evangeline a letter of introduction to the sheriff. It was this, preceding them into the sheriff's inner office, that secured them an interview with the guardian of the city's laws.

The letter lay open on the desk before him as the sheriff peered at his visitors over the top of his pince-nez, frowning from one to the other.

‘Good morning. Will you be seated, please?' Sheriff Buchanan spoke in a quiet, almost deferential voice, belying the reputation he had of being a firm, albeit fair, dispenser of the Queen's justice.

When Wyatt and Evangeline were both seated on wooden chairs, the width of a highly polished desk-top away, Sheriff Buchanan said: ‘I understand you wish to discuss the arrest of Alasdair Burns Anderson with me? You do realise, I suppose, he is a convicted lawbreaker? '

‘I accept he's served a term of imprisonment for expressing Chartist views.'

The sheriff gave Wyatt another penetrating stare over the top of his pince-nez. ‘Anderson was convicted of inciting disorder. We are currently investigating the possibility that he was also involved in very serious Chartist disturbances in England only this year.'

‘Alasdair Burns – or Anderson, as you prefer to call him – has been teaching school in Eskaig, in the Highlands, since early summer. He's become a valued member of the community there. When these riots occurred Alasdair was in the village. I'll vouch for this, as will every inhabitant of Eskaig.'

When the sheriff said nothing, Wyatt added: ‘My story can be confirmed by Lord Kilmalie's estate office, here in Edinburgh. I informed them at the time Alasdair was taken on as a teacher.'

Sheriff Buchanan conceded the strength of Wyatt's argument. Lord Kilmalie was a powerful landholder. ‘If what you say is true, I have no doubt Anderson can be quickly cleared of involvement in the disturbances in England. However, there remains the matter of an assault upon a Mr Garrett, factor of Lord Kilmalie's Highland estate. It happened in a tavern, I believe. Apparently Anderson was the worse for drink at the time. Nevertheless, drunkenness is not accepted as an excuse for breaking the law.'

‘Alasdair Burns doesn't drink.' The interruption came from Evangeline. ‘I think a mistake has been made. I
know
a mistake has been made.'

When Sheriff Buchanan raised a sceptical eyebrow, Evangeline said stiffly: ‘I am the daughter of John Garrett, Lord Kilmalie's factor.'

A brief blink was the only indication of Sheriff Buchanan's surprise. ‘Unfortunately it was your
father
, and not yourself, who laid a complaint against Alasdair Burns Anderson, Miss Garrett. I regret therefore
that only
he
can withdraw the charge. In the circumstances I suggest you ask him to call in and see me. If other charges are to be dropped, I will need to speak to him.'

Outside the sheriff's office, Evangeline said desperately: ‘Now what do we do? My father will never agree to return to Edinburgh to secure Alasdair's release from prison. He's more likely to make himself “unavailable” unless he's
forced
to put in an appearance.'

‘I doubt if Sheriff Buchanan's patience will last that long,' commented Wyatt. ‘Neither will my own. Let's go and see Charles Graham. He's a lawyer; he must know of something we can do.'

It was not necessary to wait for Sheriff Buchanan's patience to wear thin, or for Charles Graham to find a legal loophole through which to secure the release of Alasdair Burns Anderson.

John Garrett arrived in Edinburgh that same afternoon. He stormed into the Kilmalie estate office hot and dusty and in a foul mood.

 

When he had returned home in the evening, four days before, John Garrett had been informed by his tearful wife that Evangeline had packed a bag and left home. His first thought was that she had moved to Eskaig as a result of the bitter quarrel that had taken place over his part in the arrest of her one-legged colleague.

Then Garrett learned from a maid that Evangeline had packed only her
city
clothes. What was more, she had left firm instructions to the domestic staff about caring for Charlotte Garrett while she was away.

Nevertheless, John Garrett still expected to find his daughter in Eskaig and he set off to bring her back. His mood was conciliatory. He would apologise for the way he had spoken to her in the presence of the Eskaig minister. Promise her a trip to Edinburgh with money to buy clothes. She would forgive him, as she always did, and he would promise to try to remember she was a woman and no longer his ‘little girl'.

On the road to Eskaig, John Garrett encountered one of his water bailiffs, and from him learned the truth. Evangeline had been seen boarding Donald McKay's boat, bound for Glasgow. Minister Jamieson was on the boat with her.

John Garrett knew immediately where they were bound, but he misinterpreted Evangeline's reason for making the journey. He believed it was a misplaced gesture of support for Minister Wyatt Jamieson, rather than any concern for the imprisoned Eskaig teacher.

Early the following morning John Garrett obtained a passage in a Russian steamer which was clearing the Caledonian Canal
en route
for Glasgow. It was an uncomfortable voyage. The ship was filthy, every surface above and below decks coated with black dust from the coal that fed its fires. It also stank from its cargo of raw whale oil. The cargo had been badly stowed, and the ship had a severe list which caused it to yaw badly in all but the calmest sea. To cap it all, there was a knife-fight among the crew shortly before the vessel berthed in Glasgow. Two seamen were badly hurt, and passengers and officers were terrified for almost two hours.

All these experiences fuelled the anger that exploded when John Garrett saw his daughter and Wyatt seated side by side in Charles Graham's Edinburgh office.

Towering above them, he roared: ‘What the hell do you think you're playing at? I've had to chase you halfway around the Scottish coast….'

‘Now, John, take it easy.' Charles Graham moved quickly around the desk to take the angry factor by the arm.

Shaking the administrator's hand away, John Garrett jabbed a finger at Wyatt: ‘You! What do you mean by bringing my daughter here? Are you out to cause a scandal? I know why you'll say
you're
here, but I don't give a damn for your one-legged schoolteacher. It's my daughter's reputation I'm concerned with. I'll have you thrown out of the Church….'

‘Father, stop being so
dramatic
. Wyatt had no idea I was coming to Edinburgh until I boarded the boat at Corpach. He certainly didn't know I hadn't told you.'

John Garrett was momentarily dumbfounded, but his daughter's words did little to calm him. He had set off from Loch Eil filled with anger, and it had grown along the way. It was going to take more than a few placatory words to restore him to anything approaching normality.

‘I'll deal with you later, my girl. Right now I've a few things to say to
him
.' Jabbing a finger at Wyatt, the factor cried angrily: ‘You're a minister of the Church, supposed to be a responsible man. You're lucky I haven't sworn out a warrant against you on a charge of kidnapping….'

‘Father! Will you listen to me? My coming here has nothing to do with Wyatt. I'm glad he
was
with me for the voyage, but I was coming anyway.'

‘Don't lie to me, girl. Why would you come to Edinburgh without telling me? If you'd said you wanted to come shopping, I'd have sent your mother with you.'

‘My coming to Edinburgh has nothing to do with shopping – or anything else I'd expect you to understand. I came here to help Alasdair Burns.'

As John Garrett stared at his daughter, open-mouthed in disbelief, the Kilmalie estate administrator said: ‘Come now, John. Let's discuss this calmly and rationally. Evangeline has a mind of her own. You've told me so many times in this very office – and with considerable pride, I might add. If she'd decided to come to Edinburgh, then neither the minister nor you nor I could have stopped her.'

Leaning forward in his chair, Wyatt said: ‘I'd like to hear more of the factor's habit of swearing out warrants on trumped-up charges.'

Although angry, John Garrett knew to what Wyatt was alluding. He possessed sufficient self-control to fall silent, wondering exactly how much knowledge Wyatt had.

‘I think I should leave the three of you to talk things over,' said Charles Graham. ‘I am a lawyer and I feel you have things to say to one another it's better I know nothing about. I shall be in the outer office. Call me if I am needed.'

With these words, he scooped a bundle of documents from his desk and made a hurried exit.

When the lawyer had left, John Garrett looked at his daughter accusingly and shook his head, signifying bewilderment. ‘Anderson … a one-legged schoolteacher … and you? I can't believe it. This is a nightmare. A ghastly nightmare. I'm going to wake up in a minute and have a good laugh about all this.'

‘You've tried the “I'm your father and you're my little girl” plea far too often. It isn't going to work any more. Let's talk about the false charges you've laid against Alasdair.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about. The man's being charged with treason. Plotting against the Queen …
our
Queen.'

‘The authorities were making enquiries about Chartist riots, not treason, and we can prove Alasdair Burns was in the Highlands when they took place. There will be no charges,' Wyatt corrected the Eskaig factor. ‘That leaves only this so-called assault on you.'

Evangeline suddenly slumped down upon a chair and looked up at
her father. ‘Alasdair never assaulted you, Father – or anyone else, for that matter. He has strong convictions, but he's a gentle man.'

‘Is my own daughter calling me a liar now?' John Garrett's anger flared up once more. ‘I tell you the man assaulted me. He was raging drunk.'

‘As I told you in Eskaig, Alasdair doesn't touch alcohol. As for the assault … we've spoken to two witnesses, one the landlord of the inn where you were staying. Both will testify that
you
assaulted
Alasdair
.'

‘They're probably both Chartists, too. None of them is to be trusted.'

John Garrett's blustering might have intimidated one of his Eskaig tenants, but it had no effect upon his daughter – or Wyatt.

‘I do hope you won't stand by that story, Factor. If you do, I'll be obliged to call the witnesses. I don't doubt there are more than the two who have already spoken to me. I suggest you go to see the sheriff and tell him you've made a mistake. Ask him to withdraw the charges you've made against Alasdair Burns.'

‘I'll do no such thing!' John Garrett was blustering in desperation now. ‘The man's a
scoundrel
. If he's transported, it will be the best thing that could happen – for everyone.'

‘Except Alasdair Burns.' Wyatt stood up. ‘You know what has to be done, Factor. Do it today. I'll not stand idly by and let Alasdair Burns spend another night in prison for something he hasn't done. If he's not freed by four o'clock, I shall give the sheriff the names of the witnesses to this so-called “attack”. You might well find yourself taking Alasdair's place in gaol.'

To Evangeline, Wyatt said: ‘No doubt you'll be wanting to talk to your father. I'll wait outside with Mr Graham.'

‘I have nothing more to say to my father. Not after all he's done. I'll come with you.'

‘Evangeline. Wait …
please
!'

It was the first time Wyatt had heard the word used by the factor.

‘I need to talk to you. We
must
talk. All right, I'll drop my charge against this Chartist – although I strenuously deny I was entirely to blame. If I'm willing to do this for you, then I hope you'll listen to something I have to say.'

Evangeline hesitated for a few moments. ‘All right – but I'm not prepared to listen to a catalogue of my sins. Nor to hear how ungrateful
I am after all you've done for me. We'll talk seriously about the future – and I warn you in advance it means talking about Alasdair Burns.'

For a moment John Garrett seemed to swell with renewed anger. Then he looked at his daughter's determined expression, and the anger turned to a pain he could not hide. He nodded.

‘Thank you, Father. It gives me no pleasure to quarrel with you.'