A Scandal at Stonecliffe, page 21
“So you think his predecessor accepted the bribe?”
“Perhaps. Or the clergyman could have been the one lied to. Did you notice the names of the witnesses?”
“No,” Nathan admitted.
“One was a Dr. Joseph MacPherson. The other was Mrs. Donald McCready.”
Nathan looked at her blankly, then remembered. “You mean the woman who lets out her home to visitors?”
“Seems likely, doesn’t it? She takes paying guests. Flora and Margaret had to have a place to stay. Her house may not be as fine as the villagers said, but obviously it must be nicer than any other house in Gairmore.”
“So she paid her landlady and the physician to lie?”
“Do you think this village has a doctor?” Verity asked skeptically, and Nathan shook his head. “Neither do I. I think they brought a physician with them. One whom they knew would say whatever they wanted.”
“If Flora Douglas brought a doctor along with her, she clearly planned to have the baby here instead of at the family estate—which makes no sense. The family had no connection here, and it’s difficult to get to. And who in her right mind would choose to give birth in the Highlands in the winter?” Nathan said.
“Exactly. There had to be something questionable going on.”
“It seems to be a common occurrence in this family.”
“If Malcolm was your father and Margaret’s son, he was not legitimate because he was born in February, months before Margaret married your father. So...let’s say you are Margaret’s mother and you wished to hide that your daughter had an illegitimate child, but you didn’t want to give the child to a foundling home. And let’s say you are young enough that it isn’t entirely unbelievable that you yourself could have a child at your age.”
“Then you might whisk your daughter away before anyone knows,” Nathan completed the thought. “Go to a remote place for the final months and the birth, and then pretend that the baby is yours.”
“Such things do happen,” Verity said. “A relative taking an illegitimate child and raising it as their own to protect the unwed mother.”
“But we know that my father married Margaret.”
“Several months later. The Douglases might not have known that he would marry her.”
“But after that, surely he and Margaret would raise the boy, not his grandmother.”
Verity shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps they felt they couldn’t reveal that the original story was untrue.”
“I suppose.” He sighed. “Well, we’ve no idea who or where this doctor is, but...”
“We can find Mrs. McCready,” Verity finished for him.
As it turned out, finding Mrs. McCready was easy, for Verity’s newfound friends had talked to the woman in question and revealed that she did, in fact, have rooms to let. Getting information out of her was another matter.
Mrs. McCready was a soft, plump woman with a sweet smile. Her white hair peeped out around the edges of her ruffled mobcap. Nathan was reminded of the cotton cap that Verity had worn when he first met her as she pretended to be a maid in Lady Lockwood’s house, and he smiled a little to himself. Verity’s cap had been almost comically large in order to cover her hair and partially conceal her face. He remembered, too, the golden eyes beneath its edge.
At the time she had thoroughly irritated him in almost every way. And now...well, he had to admit that she still had the ability to irritate him, but somehow he didn’t mind. Indeed, he almost enjoyed it, which he suspected meant there was something seriously wrong with him.
Mrs. McCready greeted them with pleasure, assuring them that she had rooms for both of them. “Mr. Dunbridge on the floor above your room, of course. We’re always verra careful with the proprieties. It wouldnae do to...” She leaned in a little, lowering her voice. “Appear at all questionable, if you know what I mean.”
Nathan wished Verity had set them up with a different story instead of using the one she’d already told the townsfolk of her being employed to help Nathan find his true parents. The role of a married couple would have been much more agreeable.
“I do,” Verity said, sending Nathan a twinkling glance that told him she knew precisely what he was thinking. She went on to inquire into their supposed mission. Nathan noted that the warm brogue Verity had been using with the townspeople had become a fainter gloss of a Scottish accent, her tone crisp and authoritative as she spoke to the landlady.
The other woman looked flustered. “Och, nae, lass, I cannae remember that far back.”
“They were a bit unusual,” Verity said in an apparent attempt to jog her memory. “Flora and Margaret Douglas. Two refined ladies from Edinburgh, accompanied by a doctor.”
“I dinnae remember.” Mrs. McCready shook her head vigorously, sending the several bows of her cap fluttering, and gave them an apologetic smile. “My memory’s not what it was.”
Nathan reflected that he had grown cynical enough the past few weeks that he was sure the sweet old lady was lying.
“I’m sorry I cannae help you,” Mrs. McCready went on. “Janet can see you to your rooms. Janet!” She raised her voice.
“Yes, missus, I’m here.” A middle-aged woman moved out of the shadows of the staircase. In contrast to her employer, she was a dour-looking woman with iron gray hair wrapped up in a tight knot at the crown of her head. She nodded at Nathan. “This way, sir, miss.”
Janet clomped up the stairs, leaving them little choice but to follow her. She moved down the hallway and opened a door. “Here ye are, miss. Ye have a view of the loch.” She waved toward the windows along the opposite wall.
“Thank you.” Verity drew a breath, and Nathan knew she was going to question the maid about the Douglases.
But before Verity could speak, Janet said, “I remember them.”
“The Douglases?”
“I dinnae remember their names. But I was here when they came—like ye said, two high-and-mighty ladies from Edinburgh and Dr. MacPherson. They brought their maid, as well, and they didnae like the food. The bread was too coarse, the mother said, and the haggis too dry. I remember ’cause I was an undermaid working in the kitchen, and Mrs. Fleming, the housekeeper, was in a snit about it.”
“Well, I suppose since the mother was carrying a child, her taste might have—”
The maid let out a snort. “Carrying? Not her. It was the lass that had the babe. Poor lass—she was quiet. A weepy little thing. ’Course, who wouldn’t be? Her mam was stiff as a poker and never had a smile to offer. Weel, it was a bastard, poor wee babe, so her mam was angry at her. That’s the way it is, isn’t it, the lass always gets blamed, and the man’s off enjoying himself.”
“Yes, unfortunately, that’s often the way it is,” Verity said sympathetically. “Did the daughter ever say anything about the baby’s father?”
“Nae. They didnae talk to the likes of us, ye ken.” She paused, tilting her head a bit. “Though—now that I think about it, there was that once the lass stood up to her, and I ken it was about a man.”
“Do you remember what they said?” Verity asked.
Janet shook her head but continued to look thoughtful. “It was—the mam said—” She shot a quick glance at Nathan, then went on, “Sassenach.”
“An Englishman?” Verity could not fully suppress the excitement in her voice. “They were arguing about an Englishman?”
The other woman nodded slowly. “I think so. I cannae be sure—I just remember because it surprised us all.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. That’s all I know.” She gave Nathan a little bob of a curtsey. “Now, sir, your room is up the stairs.”
“Yes, of course.” Nathan pulled out a gold coin and pressed it into her hand. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help.”
Janet smiled broadly and quickly pocketed the coin. “Thank ye, sir.”
“One other thing...” Nathan said. “You didn’t remember the two women, but you knew the doctor’s name. Was he local?”
Janet’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, nae, sir, he was from Inverness. I knew him because he’s the missus’s brother.”
“Mrs. McCready’s brother?” Nathan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Aye. The missus’s name was MacPherson before she married Donald McCready.”
Verity gave Janet a thin-lipped smile and said, “While you show Mr. Dunbridge to his chamber, I believe I’ll give Mrs. McCready another visit.”
“Oh, nae, miss.” Janet’s eyes opened in alarm. “Dinnae tell her—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you told us,” Verity assured her.
“I’ll go with you,” Nathan said quickly.
“No, dear.” Verity patted his arm. “This is something I’ll do better without you.”
Nathan sighed as he watched Verity trot down the stairs.
“Oh, sir...the missus is bound to know.” Janet turned her worried gaze on him.
“Don’t worry, she’ll make up an entirely different story,” Nathan told Janet. “She’s quite good at that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AFTER JANET SHOWED Nathan to his bedchamber and he again reassured the woman that Verity would manage not to reveal her help, he went outside. There was a stone bench that looked out over the loch, and he sat there waiting for Verity.
When Verity emerged from the house, he stood up and went to meet her halfway. “I trust Mrs. McCready is still in good health.”
Verity smiled and patted his cheek. “I didn’t harm a hair on the woman’s head. I’m not entirely a barbarian, you know.”
“Mmm. Only half of one?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Nonsense. No more than a third, I’m sure.” Verity was clearly pleased at Nathan’s hearty chuckle and gave him an answering smile before continuing. “Anyway, I didn’t need to resort to anything so crude as violence. I simply pointed out how very distressing it would be to Mrs. McCready and her brother if the British Foreign Office came to investigate their aid to the French.”
Nathan choked. “Their what?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I had to have some reason for already knowing what Janet told us. So I told her we already knew about the suspicious circumstances of the Douglases residing here.”
“You do know that Malcolm was born before the war with Bonaparte.”
“Oh, the Scots are always conspiring against England.” Verity waved away that problem. “And England is always at war with France.”
“Actually,” Nathan said in a musing tone, “I suppose we were at war. His birth would have been during that first little spat with the colonies.”
“You see? So I went on to say that we had hoped that she might provide us information that would clear up the reason she was housing known Anglophobes like Flora Douglas, and I was going to give her another chance to tell her side of the story.”
“As always, I bow to your wisdom,” Nathan said, offering his arm. “Now why don’t we take a stroll along the loch and you can tell me what you learned. I think it’s better to discuss it away from all the ears in the house.”
Verity linked her arm with his. “You are wise, as well. Unfortunately, Mrs. McCready had little to tell that we didn’t already know. Margaret and her mother came here to conceal the birth of Margaret’s illegitimate child. She didn’t know the exact circumstances, such as who the father was. All she cared about was that she was getting several months of paying guests in return for not asking or answering any questions about the whole thing.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I did learn one piece of new information, though.”
The tone of her voice made Nathan stop and turn to look at her. “Good information?”
Verity nodded. “Well, not good for Margaret, but definitely good for you. Apparently Margaret died only a few months later. Mrs. McCready didn’t know the details, unfortunately, but she was positive it wasn’t longer than a year after the birth.”
Nathan let out a long breath. “Then my parents’ marriage was legal. I’m very glad to learn my father didn’t deceive Mother like that.”
“It also means your birth is legitimate. And since we now know that Malcolm was born before George Dunbridge married his mother, he is not legitimate and therefore has no claim to your estate.”
“None?”
“Remember the day you spoke to Robert Douglas at his club? I went to talk to an attorney.”
“Yes, I remember. We never talked about it, did we?”
“No. Your discovery of Gairmore was far more interesting. The lawyer told me that if the parents marry after the child is born, the child can share in the personal property but not the real estate. And since the thing you have of value is the real estate, he would get nothing.”
Nathan frowned. “That seems rather unfair. I mean, he’s older and my father did do the right thing and marry her, even if it was a bit late.”
Verity chuckled. “Only you would feel sorry for the man who is trying to steal your estate from you.”
“Well, he is my brother, despite all that.” They began to walk again. “I can’t help but think how different my life would have been if I’d grown up with a brother.”
“I think with a brother like him, it would not have been an improvement.”
He glanced at her and smiled faintly. “You’re probably right.”
“I, um, I suppose our case is over now,” Verity said.
“I suppose.” A fist clenched in Nathan’s chest at the thought of not being with Verity all the time, of leading separate lives. It didn’t mean he would lose her, but... Anyway, there were things that needed to be done, loose ends to tie up—surely there were. He cleared his throat. “But first I think...I think that we should go to Edinburgh and talk to the Douglases.”
“Why?” Verity stared at him, and Nathan had a swift pang of doubt—does she not feel the same desire to stay together that I do?
“Well, um, to talk to Malcolm’s parents—or, really, his grandparents.” He warmed to this idea. It made sense, really, when one thought about it. It wasn’t simply an excuse to extend his time with Verity. “It’s possible Malcolm has returned to Edinburgh, given that we haven’t been able to locate him. He might have realized that his charade was destined to fail and went home to lick his wounds. Surely, if we can speak to him, he will see that the proof we have would make a shambles of his claim.”
“Whether he is there or not, I’d like to discover if his parents are privy to his scheme,” Verity added. “If they are, we can show them what folly it would be to continue the plan. To thwart Malcolm’s blackmail, we would be forced to expose his family’s own lies, and that would plunge not only him but his grandparents as well into a terrible scandal.”
“Exactly.” Nathan nodded. “If they aren’t aware of what he’s doing, it would seem to me that they have a right to know that he is about to destroy their reputations. I’m sure they would do their best to dissuade him. I would much prefer to settle all this quickly and quietly. Even though Malcolm cannot succeed, it would cause my mother a good deal of heartache to find out about my father’s secrets. It would damage my father’s reputation—I find it rather unsavory that he didn’t acknowledge his son, that he let someone else raise him. I can imagine how the rest of the ton will seize on that. I’d hate for Mother to have to face the gossip.”
“You would have to face it, as well.”
“I don’t care about that, really. I’ve realized the past few weeks that the ton isn’t all that interesting to me. Still, I think it’s worth trying to avert a scandal that can only hurt both the families.”
“You’re right.” Verity nodded. “It doesn’t seem likely that Flora has any part in Malcolm’s plans. Given all the trouble she went to in order to hide the facts of his birth, I doubt very much that she would want it spread about now. She is probably the best person to control Malcolm. She certainly sounds like she dominated Margaret.”
“Yes. Good. Then we’ll leave for Edinburgh first thing tomorrow.” Nathan stopped and turned to Verity, taking both her hands in his, and smiled down at her. “I don’t care for our sleeping arrangements here.”
Verity linked her arms around his neck, her golden eyes glinting up at him in that way that never failed to stir him. “Ah, but you have to remember—sneaking into forbidden places is what I do.”
She stretched up to kiss him.
* * *
VERITY GLANCED OVER at Nathan as their carriage made its way through the streets of Edinburgh. It hadn’t been hard to learn where John and Flora Douglas lived. They appeared to be a prominent family.
Verity and Nathan had dawdled a little on their way to the city. The last three days had been bittersweet, for every touch, every kiss, every shared smile or laugh had been countered by the knowledge that they would soon return to London, to the lives they had established long before they met each other.
She knew Nathan would still come to her even after they returned to London; there had been no slackening in their passion. But it would not be the same. Nathan’s calling on her, even spending the night in her bed, would not match the time they had spent in each other’s company, the moments, both mundane and monumental, that they shared.
Was this love?
Was love wanting to be with him all the time and missing him when he wasn’t there? Was it this desire to have him in her bed, to see him last thing at night and first thing in the morning? Was it the way her heart lifted when he came into the room?
Verity wasn’t the kind of woman who fell in love. She was free and independent—accountable to no one, responsible for no one. Needing no one. But at the moment all she could think was I cannot bear to lose him.
And there was the small matter of Jonathan Stanhope and the Bow Street Runner. Verity had managed to be busy enough with Nathan and the case to not give it too much thought, but she knew that snare was also awaiting her in London, at home. Home had just recently started to feel like a safe concept to Verity and now here she was, back to feeling as though laying down roots would invariably mean being entangled by them.
