The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (39 page)

Malcolm's smile widened. "Oh, but he is."

Lord Webster spoke from his chair, his
brittle
voice carrying easily. "Your husband is dead, madam."

"Dead, Mary." Malcolm smiled into my eyes. "Alex is dead. Dead. Yer a widow. And Ian has inherited."

I shook my head. "Bring me proof." I whirled to face the judge. "You don't have proof, do you? I knew it. Alex is not dead." I turned back to Malcolm. "Even if it were true, Ian would inherit nothing. Kilgannon is forfeited with all of the rest of Alex's property, or have you forgotten that?" Malcolm watched through narrowed eyes. If he did not know of the Scottish court's ruling, I thought, I would not be the one to tell him. "Even if you cleared all the obstacles, it would be Ian who inherited, not you."

"I will be his guardian, Mary," Malcolm said.

"Not while I live."

"As ye wish," he said coldly. "That can be arranged."

"No doubt," I said, my voice low with hatred. "And how long would you let Ian live? How long would it be until you removed him and then Jamie?" I glanced over my shoulder at the judge. "He will kill them both just to get the land. And you will be responsible."

Malcolm moved away from me with distaste. "What a horrible thing to say. I would never harm them, Mary."

"Oh?" I glared at him. "Just as you would never harm their father? No, Malcolm, you will have to kill me before I allow you to be their guardian, and if Pm dead, Matthew will kill you. And if he's dead, Gilbey will do it. Or Thomas. Or Dougall. Or wee Donald. A lot of people hate you for what you did."

"Ye dinna understand..."

"Oh, but you're wrong, Malcolm. I understand only too well. We all understand." He raised a hand as though to strike me and I glared at him, aware that the judge had moved to stand behind me. "Go ahead, Malcolm," I said. "It has never been difficult in the past for you to hit women. Or is it different with an audience?"

Malcolm lowered his hand. "Yer distraught, Mary. I'll return when ye can talk sensibly."

"No," I said, meeting the anger I saw in his eyes with my own. "Don't come back. You are dead to me, Malcolm. Dead."

"As is Alex," he sneered.

"No." I turned to the judge, who watched both of us without expression. "Either you know he's not dead or you fear he's not."

"We believe that he is dead, madam," said Judge Webster.

"Until I see his body he is alive to me. If he were not, you would release me."

"You seem to forget that your husband's kinsmen
hold DeBroun
."

"They do not."

"Ah, at last, the subject I came to discuss. Pray be seated again, madam. You will not be leaving this room until we address this." I did not move, nor speak. Lord Webster glanced at Malcolm before turning back to me. "I have brought your brother-in-law here because you are a very stubborn woman and I am trying to have you tell me what you know. I am considering appointing MacGannon as guardian of your stepsons since their father is presumed dead." I was silent. The judge nodded. "Very well. That is
exactly
what I will do. I will transfer you to the Tower and I will appoint Malcolm MacGannon guardian of your stepsons and your baby since they will have become wards of the court. Then we will all wait for Edgar DeBroun to return." I met his eyes. I believed him.

"If you tell me what you know," Webster said, "I will reconsider the guardianship." I nodded and when he led me back to the chair I went willingly. He sat next to me. Malcolm stayed at the door. "Madam," said the judge, demanding my attention, "tell me what you know about DeBroun's captivity."

"DeBroun is not being held captive," I said. "He has gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone."

Lord Webster studied me. "How do you know this?"

"I saw him before I left London." That much at least was true.

"And where is he now?"

"I don't know. Truly, I don't. I hope he's in hell."

"Are the MacGannons holding him?"

"No. The MacGannons have gone back to
Scotland
. DeBroun is being held by no one."

The judge considered me with pursed lips. "Why have the MacGannons gone to
Scotland
, madam?"

"It is their home. They could do nothing here."

"Are they coming back?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I have heard nothing."

"If I release you, what will you do?"

"Go to Mountgarden. Raise my children. My brother will help."

Malcolm spoke from the door. "As they are helping ye the now, Mary? Perhaps Robert will help as well?"

"Malcolm," I said, "unlike you, I will never betray Alex."

Malcolm laughed unkindly. "Who does yer child look like?"

Lord Webster rose and walked stiffly to the door, then turned to me. "Madam, remember that you are alive only because I choose to keep you so. I will return with the proof of your husband's death." He went through the door without a backward glance.

When the door closed Malcolm came to stand over me. "And what about Angus, Mary?" Malcolm asked
quietly
. "If Matthew and Gilbey will avenge ye, what about Angus? Where is Angus?"

I looked up at him. "We do not speak these days," I said and watched Malcolm's pleasure in my answer. How I hated him.

"Don't fight me, Mary. I am the one with the power here."

"You are dead to me, Malcolm," I said and turned my back. Eventually he left me alone and after a while I heard the coach drive away and the house

become quiet again.

Locked in my room, I wrapped my arms around myself and went over it again and again. Webster was still not convinced that the MacGannons did not hold De-Broun. And Alex had to be alive. He had to be. I prayed for his safety. And the boys'. Until today I had thought we were in danger, not them, and I had never imagined I could be put in the Tower. I had no doubt that Webster would do just that if it suited him, but I had no way to warn Will of Webster's plan. The judge's men would arrive at Mountgarden without warning and tear Ian and Jamie away from my brother. I looked at my baby and his nurse with something close to panic and tried not to think about Malcolm as guardian of my sons.

We were left alone for the rest of that day, and when the woman brought our breakfast the next morning I did not even look at her. The door closed behind her and Henrietta attacked the food with energy while I listlessly watched her eat. And then I saw it. Under the plate was a small square of paper. Leaning forward without a word, I drew the paper out from under the plate while Henrietta sat and watched, her fork midway to her mouth. It was no more than four inches across, a scrap of dirty paper, and it had fit neatly under the plate. There were no words written on it but it lifted my heart and I smiled as I looked at it and showed Henrietta. The pattern of my wedding ring was drawn in intricate detail, each twist of the design clearly delineated. And in the center of the paper was the rose, the twin of the one on my ring.

"Alex drew this," I said and then stopped. I turned the paper over. There was no signature, no sign of the artist. I pressed it to my heart. Alex, my love, I prayed, tell me you are alive. Tell me this is from you. The drawing was silent but my answer could wait. Someone knew where I was. We were not alone.

I spent that day and the next at the window in a frenzy of emotions, thinking to see someone, or be seen by someone. But there were no visitors, no drawings. Each time the woman brought us something I searched her face for a message, but she would not meet my glances. The man at the door prevented any conversation, and the trays she brought held nothing but food and crockery. I hung the plaid out the window, which caused conversation among the guards, but no one came to tell me to remove it.

The baby was fretful, as though he'd caught my mood, and Henrietta sang to him as she walked him. I watched her and thought about what a comfort she'd been for me, a sweet and agreeable girl who never complained. I must keep her safe. And the baby. But how? I looked out the window at the drop again. Impossible. I sighed and watched the guards as they roamed the gravel drive. Four of them there. Two who were always at our door. And six more I'd seen when I'd been taken downstairs. At least twelve, then, without counting the woman. As I watched, four more men came from the house and joined the ones on the drive. Twelve? Or sixteen altogether? I paced the room and went over our situation again. Alex was alive. Since receiving the sketch I was sure of it. Or almost. But what did Webster plan? I could not be held here forever. Surely that would not be in the judge's best interests. If Alex were found, dead or alive, my usefulness would be over. And if he was not found in a reasonable amount of time, there would be no reason to keep me alive to tell the tale of this adventure. Or Henrietta and the baby. But then there was the drawing. Who had sent it and what did it mean? Was I to do something obvious that I had not thought of? I started to think again.

It rained that night and most of the next day. In the late afternoon the sky cleared and weak sunlight filtered through the clouds. I stood at the window and watched the guards below. Just as I was about to turn away, something flickered in the trees at the far side of the drive. Something red. "Henrietta,' I whispered, "come here. Tell me if you see anything." I pointed out the clump of trees. As she watched, I saw the movement again and she gasped.

"Yes, Lady Mary! I saw it. There is someone there." She gripped my arm and we watched with growing excitement, but no one came out of the trees and none of the guards noticed the movement. Instead, a lone rider came to the door, encased in a long cloak. As he approached the house he threw back the hood and looked up at us, his blond hair bright against the wool. I caught my breath. I needn't have. It was Malcolm. I stepped back from the window, my disappointment hard to bear. It must have been one of Malcolm's men that we'd seen. No wonder the guards had not reacted. He had been expected. A few moments later I was summoned and went down the stairs with a heavy heart. Malcolm, standing by the hearth, smiled as I entered the room.

"Mary." His voice was warm as he moved to me, extending his hands. "We were both so wrong the other day. Let us try again."

I ignored his hands as I sat down. "Why are you here?"

"We must unite the family."

"Why?"

"Because we are all we have left. Alex is gone and the boys and ye are all I have of my family. Mary," he said, his tone coaxing, "come to yer senses. I am in favor with the Whigs and allied with the Frasers. I am yer only hope of survival. Let bygones be bygones." I looked at my wedding ring. "Dinna be obstinate. Webster is coming to question ye about
DeBruen
again. He has allowed me to come here first and try to persuade ye to be cooperative. Tell me what ye ken and perhaps he will be generous."

Generous, I thought. Edgar DeBroun had also promised to be generous. "What do you want, Malcolm?" I asked.

"I only want what is best for all of us. Come home, Mary, and raise yer children in Scotland. If not at
Kilgannon
, then Clonmor."

"I cannot."

"Ye mean ye will not."

"I mean I cannot," I said crisply. "I mean I am being held captive, Malcolm. I can go nowhere."

"I will speak to the judge. I'm sure that once ye tell him what ye ken about DeBroun, he will release ye."

"I don't know where DeBroun is."

"I don't believe you."

"It is the truth, Malcolm, but then you always did have difficulty with the truth," I said and watched his eyes harden.

"What happened between ye and Angus,
Mary
?"

"We did not agree on the best way to help Alex." That much was true and I met his eyes without a flinch.

"Where are my mother's jewels?"

The question, so unexpected, caught me off guard. "What?"

His eyes were icy. "My mother's jewels. They're not at Kilgannon. Where are they?"

"Why?" I asked, stalling for time.

"They are all I have left of her."

I laughed unkindly. "They're gone, Malcolm. I sold everything to try to free Alex. Everything's gone," I lied. It was true that everything else salable was gone from Kilgannon, but Margaret's jewels were in the bottom of a trunk at Mountgarden.

"We could sell them, Mary. We could get Kilgannon back."

"They are gone, Malcolm. Perhaps I should speak more slowly?"

He considered me for a moment, then shook his head. "
Mary
, ye have disliked me from the first. Why?"

I paused and looked at him thoughtfully, then decided to answer with the truth. I certainly did not have to worry about sparing his feelings. "It is true that I have always disliked you, Malcolm, and at first I did not even know why," I said. "But I soon discovered that I not only disliked you, I despised you. For many reasons, the first of which is that you were disloyal to Alex. You were always contemptuous of him and you sneered at everything he did and ridiculed him when he was kind and fair to others. And I learned to hate you when you tried to kill him and were silent when he lived. I despise you because you prey on women and those who are weaker than you, because you beat Sibeal when you were the one at fault, and I hate you because you betrayed Alex to Robert. Your own brother, and you showed the enemy where to find him. I despise you because you are intelligent and you use your mind for harm instead of good, because you cannot be Alex and so you would destroy him instead of becoming like him. Because, even now, when we all fear Alex is dead, you only think of yourself. You are incapable of thinking about anyone else's needs. I hate you because you are everything I've said, and a coward as well."