God's Highlander (40 page)

J
ohn Garrett caught up with Wyatt in Fort William, only a few hundred yards from the tolbooth, the town's formidable stone-built administrative centre and gaol.

The factor's horse was hot and lathered. John Garrett had ridden up to his Corpach home and left again immediately upon receiving Wyatt's message. It was not because the factor believed the Eskaig minister had anything of importance to tell him. Garrett welcomed any excuse that would take him to Fort William.

‘I've been told you need to see me “urgently”, Jamieson. What is it – are
you
wanting to emigrate, too? Or have you decided to return to the
real
church? Whatever it is had better be important, or I'll have you charged for the weight I've run off my horse.'

‘What do
you
call important, Garrett? A sick man killed by the soldiers who served your clearance order? His wife and six young children left without a father? Or news that your daughter's been arrested because she couldn't stand by and do nothing while Irish soldiers broke Scots heads?'

‘What are you talking about? Evangeline isn't mixed up in any of this – unless it's your doing. Where is she?'

‘That's what I'm here to find out.' Wyatt nodded towards the great grim tolbooth. ‘My guess is she's in there.'

John Garrett's face registered horror as his gaze went from Wyatt to the tolbooth, and back again.

‘You'd better be wrong, Jamieson. If Evangeline's been arrested, it will be due to
your
influence. You and that Glasgow rabble-rouser you've got in to teach school. I told her she should never have involved herself with Eskaig. Perhaps she'll be ready to listen to me now.'

‘Will
you
listen to me and end the misery, heartbreak – yes, and
murder
resulting from your clearances? Bring them to a halt, Garrett. If you continue, there's going to be bloodshed in these mountains on a scale not seen since Cumberland's men set out to exterminate the Highlander.'

‘Had Cumberland carried out his duties properly, I wouldn't have to be clearing Kilmalie land today. I've made the tenants a generous offer. Free passage to a new life and five pounds in their pockets when they get there. If you're so damned concerned about them, you'll make certain they go –
and
travel with them yourself.'

‘Five pounds to compensate for all you and the soldiers have burned? That's generous? Even at the height of the Sutherland clearances the tenants were being given twenty-five pounds for new roof-timbers – and time to remove possessions and livestock.'

A peculiar expression crossed John Garrett's face, and in that moment Wyatt knew the truth. ‘You've
been
given money to compensate dispossessed tenants – probably by the late Lord Kilmalie. It's the sort of thing he'd do; he was a generous man. How much did he give you, Garrett? What
should
the Highlanders be getting?'

‘Go to hell, Jamieson! Better still, sail away to Canada with your own kind. You've no church, no status – and by the time winter comes there will be no one left to hear you preach. Get out before you lose everything and have
nowhere
to go.'

John Garrett swung his horse away and rode on to the tolbooth. He had to tether his horse some way from the entrance to the tolbooth building, and both men entered together, neither speaking to the other.

In answer to the clerk on duty inside the tolbooth office, John Garrett declared loudly that he had come to make enquiries about his daughter. Wyatt explained he was there on behalf of Alasdair Burns.

Both men were asked to remain in the office while the clerk went off to report their presence to his superior.

They waited in silence for perhaps ten minutes before the clerk returned, preceded by a rotund bald-headed little man whose forehead glistened with small beads of perspiration. He addressed himself immediately to the factor.

‘Mr Garrett! I am Jeremiah Buchanan, sheriff's clerk. A delight to meet you, sir. I trust our little, ah …
error
hasn't caused you to make a special journey here.'

The sheriff's clerk faltered, and his expression became that of a
desperately worried man. ‘I can assure you, sir, I had your daughter released from custody the
moment
I learned she was here. I have also protested in the strongest possible terms to the commanding officer of the Irish regiment. I have demanded that the man who ordered the arrests be
severely
punished and an apology tendered to your good self. I don't doubt—'

‘Where's my daughter now?' John Garrett's brusque question brought to an end the protestations of the perspiring sheriff's clerk.

‘At the inn. She and Mr Burns went there after … a short while ago.'

‘
Burns
? You had that rogue in prison and released him?'

The beads of perspiration joined together and found twin paths on either side of the bald temples to the clerk's plump cheeks.

‘I had no alternative, Mr Garrett. Not after Mr Graham came in and ordered the sheriff-substitute to call in the clearance orders.'

‘Mr Graham … the Kilmalie estate administrator? He …
called in the clearance orders
? He has no authority to interfere with my orders. What was he doing here? Where is he now?' John Garrett was beside himself with rage.

‘Staying at the coaching inn, a few hundred paces along the road. Your daughter and Mr Burns are there, too.'

‘We'll soon see about
that
! It's time I put a stop to that girl's nonsense once and for all. I should never have allowed her to teach at that damned school.'

Scowling deeply, John Garrett headed for the door. He had reached the doorway when the sheriff's clerk called to him, with desperation in his voice: ‘Your daughter and Mr Burns … they're married, sir.'

John Garrett spun around, and his expression caused the sheriff's clerk to back away, speaking rapidly in a bid to impart his news as hastily as possible. ‘They were married by declaration, with the magistrate and Mr Graham as witnesses—'

‘
Married by declaration
?' The veins stood out on the temples of the factor's blood-diffused face. ‘That's a form of marriage used by cottars …
peasants
! It can't be legal for the daughter of a
gentleman
. I'll see the magistrate and have it annulled.'

‘Your daughter was very determined, Mr Garrett. She insisted….'

‘If what the clerk has said is true, there's nothing you or anyone else can do, Garrett. The marriage is as legal as if she'd been married by me – or by your archbishop in his cathedral of Canterbury. That's why so
many English couples cross the border to be married. I believe the village of Gretna is becoming quite renowned for its “marriages by declaration”.'

Wyatt was only marginally less surprised than the factor, although he was well aware of the way Alasdair and Evangeline felt about each other. But to get married in such a manner…. He tried hard not to take delight in the factor's discomfiture.

‘We'll see about this! I'll not have my only daughter married to a political agitator … a gaolbird. I've some strong words to say to Charles Graham.
Very
strong words.'

John Garrett stamped from the office, and Jeremiah Buchanan sought a chair and dropped into it gratefully.

Wyatt hurried from the tolbooth to the inn and was close on John Garrett's heels when he came face to face with the Kilmalie estate administrator just inside the inn entrance.

Charles Graham was taken by surprise, but he recovered quickly, although there was no pleasure in his greeting. He extended his hand towards the factor. ‘I was on my way to find a carriage and pay you a visit—'

‘What's the meaning of putting yourself forward as a witness to this so-called marriage?
And
having the sheriff-substitute call in my clearance orders? You're the administrator of the Kilmalie estates, but I'm the factor in Eskaig. In
sole
control. I give the orders.'

A number of passers-by had stopped, attracted by the loud voice of the factor. Charles Graham said: ‘I suggest we go inside and discuss this privately. Or would you prefer to see your daughter and her new husband first?'

‘I'll deal with her later. Let's get
this
business straightened out first.'

John Garrett pushed past the Edinburgh-based administrator and entered the inn. Charles Graham saw Wyatt for the first time. ‘You'd better come in, too, Minister Jamieson. What I have to say affects you and your people.'

The inn door was open, and John Garrett heard the lawyer's words. Turning, he pointed a quivering finger at Wyatt. ‘The business of the Kilmalie estate doesn't concern him. If you have something to say about Kilmalie lands, you can tell me in private. Jamieson doesn't even have a church in Eskaig now.'

‘Nevertheless, he is the man chosen by the parishioners to be their
pastor.
I
want him to hear what I have to tell you.' Charles Graham waved Wyatt inside the inn. ‘After you, Minister Jamieson.'

Charles Graham paused to have a brief conversation with the innkeeper, which led to the three men being shown to a small private room.

‘Please take a seat, gentlemen. I have ordered refreshments.' Charles Graham waved the others to seats as he placed his pince-nez on his nose. Unfastening an oilskin-wrapped bundle, he extracted a number of papers and proceeded to arrange them neatly on the table in front of him.

John Garrett's impatience would not allow him to sit still in the chair he occupied. He changed position frequently, his scowl deepening with the passing of time.

‘Come on, man. You don't need a whole bundle of papers to explain why you countermanded my orders. Get on with it.'

‘True, John. I don't need any papers to explain
why
I countermanded your instructions. However, I will probably require them in order to prove I have the authority to do so.'

When the papers were arranged to Charles Graham's satisfaction, the landlord appeared, holding open the door for a serving-girl carrying a laden tray to enter. John Garrett fumed impotently as the Edinburgh administrator fussed about, ensuring that food and drink were placed within reach of his two guests.

Almost as though he was enjoying the irascibility of the Eskaig factor, Charles Graham maintained his silence on the subject of the meeting until the door had closed behind the innkeeper and his servant.

‘Now, gentlemen, you are no doubt anxious to know what it is I have to say to you….' Only the slightest pause acknowledged John Garrett's sarcastic derision. ‘I can assure you it has an important bearing not only on the lives of each of us here, but also on very many more people connected with Kilmalie lands here and elsewhere.'

Charles Graham took a sip from a large brandy-glass and looked over the rim of his pince-nez at each of the two men in turn.

‘You will recall that the three of us last met together in Eskaig when I came to inform you of the death of the late Lord Kilmalie … Lord
Cloudesley
Kilmalie.'

‘Of course we remember. That's when I showed
you
the new Lord
Kilmalie's letter giving me full authority to run the Eskaig estate in whatever manner I thought best.
Without interference
was what that meant.'

‘You showed me a letter
purporting
to invest you with a great deal of authority, certainly.'

‘Purporting?
Purporting
?' John Garrett was on his feet in an instant. Fists resting on the table, he glared menacingly at Charles Graham. ‘Are you suggesting I
forged
that letter? By God, sir. I'll take you to the courts for such infamous slander.'

‘
Slander
, John? Dear me, I've said nothing
slanderous
, surely? No, no. I accept that you presented the letter to me in all good faith. You believed
implicitly
in the authority contained therein – as indeed I did, at the time. Unfortunately, I fear the letter is absolutely worthless. You may as well use it as a taper to light your pipe.'

John Garrett was rarely lost for words, but for some moments he was speechless. When his voice finally returned he poured scorn on the Edinburgh administrator's statement.

‘Are you trying to tell me Major Jock is an impostor? I don't believe you. This is a trick thought up by you and Jamieson to prevent me clearing the Highlanders from Eskaig.'

‘It's no trick, John, and Major Jock was no imposter – at least, he
was
the genuine heir to the Kilmalie lands.'

‘You're talking in riddles, man. If he's the genuine heir, then the authority in the letter in my possession is genuine, too.'

‘Unfortunately not. You see, Major Jock never inherited the titles and estates of Lord Kilmalie. The ship in which he was returning to Australia foundered off the South African coast
three days before the late Lord Kilmalie died
.'

John Garrett stared at Charles Graham as the implication of his words sank in. ‘You're lying. All right, Major Jock
may
be dead, but how do you know it happened
before
Lord Kilmalie died, eh? How can you prove
that
?'

Charles Graham sighed. ‘I said I would need to supply you with proof of what I had to say. I have here statements from two of the ship's officers who survived the disaster. I also have statements from three surviving passengers. All witnessed the sad death of Major Jock. Needless to say, it has taken me some time to obtain these statements.'