Last Night's Scandal (36 page)

T
he brothers sat close together, their heads bent over their tankards while they talked in low voices. Glaud Millar slept on his folded arms on the side of the table nearest Jock. There was an empty chair opposite Jock but Lisle told them there was a draft there, and they must make way for the lady. The men were obliged to shift, making room for Lisle on one side, between Jock—wedged into a corner—and Roy, and Olivia on the other, between Jock and Glaud.

She turned to Glaud, “Glaud Millar?” she said. “Glaud, we should like to speak to you.” Glaud went on lightly snoring.

“No use, miss,” said Jock. “He won’t rouse for anything, ’cepting his sister.”

“Ah, well, he’s had a busy day,” said Lisle. “Sleeping in the road at daybreak. Carried
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back home. Now here he is again.”

“They were clever, those fellows, you must admit,” Olivia said to him. “They had exceedingly short notice, yet they devised such a cunning plan.”

“Cunning? They dragged a man who was dead drunk into the road and left him there for people to stumble over.”

“It was a brilliant delaying tactic,” she said. “If they hadn’t kept the workmen busy with Mr.

Millar, they might have been caught in the middle of attacking us. No, it was cleverly done.” Jock preened.

Roy shot him a look and he subsided and scowled into his tankard.

“And the boldness of it,” she said. “One must admire that.”

“What’s so bold about attacking a helpless woman?” Lisle said.

“Helpless?” Jock said. “Why, she—”

“Begging pardon, miss, but you don’t strike a fellow as the helpless kind,” Roy said.

“Everyone heard about you and that cook of yours.”

Olivia smiled. “Then the robber was a brave man to attack me.”

“Well, he were, weren’t he?” Jock said. “Risking maiming in his manly parts if you’ll excuse the expression.”

“Jock,” his brother began, but Olivia gave Jock a dazzling smile and Lisle saw the look come over his face—the look so many men wore, blinded and deafened when she turned that beauty full force on one.

“And yet you bravely fought on,” she said.

“I—”

“You!” a woman screamed. “You lying, thieving pigs! You get away from my brother!” They looked up.

Mary Millar stood in the doorway, her bonnet hanging down her back, her hair wild, her face red. Herrick had his arm out, blocking her way.

“L
et me through,” she said. “You let me through, Mr. Herrick. I’ve had all I’ll bear—from the lot of them.”

Lisle nodded. Herrick put his arm down and Mary charged at them.

Jock started to get up, but Lisle pushed him down again.

“That’s right, you stay,” she said. “You stay and listen, the way you tell me to do. And I want everyone else to hear, too.” She looked about her defiantly. “I want you all to hear.”

“You say your piece, Mary,” someone said.

“You, too, your lordship,” she said. “I’m done with this.”

“I’m listening, Mary,” Lisle said.

She turned back to the Rankins. “It was bad enough, you giving Glaud drink he didn’t need. It was bad enough you made me tell tales when I ought to hold my tongue. I knew it was wrong to tell you about that chest. I knew you’d try to steal it. I told myself you’d never get away with it, you’re so stupid. I told myself you wouldn’t do any real harm. But you poured drink down Glaud’s throat, and threw him in the road, like he was a sack of old rags. You hurt his lordship, who’s only tried to do good for us. You attacked a
woman,
you cowardly curs!”
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She tore off her bonnet and struck Roy with it. “You worthless rubbish!” Then, to Lisle’s—and everybody else’s, by the looks of it—astonishment, she hit her unconscious brother. “And you, too, Glaud. I’m done looking after you. Look after yourself. I’

ve got no place now, thanks to you. It was a good place, too. Now I’ve got nothing, not even a character. I’m finished here, and I’m going. And you—you and your bully friends can go to the devil!”

She picked up a tankard and poured its contents over her brother’s head. He shook his head and looked up blearily. “Mary?”

“You go to hell!” she said. “I’m done.”

She stormed toward the door again.

Herrick looked questioningly at Lisle.

Lisle nodded.

Herrick opened the door and let her go.

The public house was absolutely silent.

Lisle looked at Olivia. She turned the blinding smile on each of the Rankins in turn.

“Well, that was exciting,” she said cheerfully.

Lisle didn’t smile at them. “Where is it?” he said.

Roy looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “That gal’s gone off her head.”

Lisle stood up, grabbed Roy by the shoulders of his coat, lifted him straight off the ground, and threw him at the wall.

“Lisle,” Olivia said. “I don’t think—”

“We tried it your way,” he said. “Now we do it
my
way.” Olivia got up quickly and got out of the way.

Jock tried to squeeze past her but Lisle knocked over the table. Glaud toppled out of his chair onto the floor.

Lisle dragged Jock up, and threw him across the room. Staggering backward, Jock knocked over a table and some chairs. Everyone in the public house was on their feet.

“I’m done playing with you two,” Lisle said. “I’ll give you to the count of three to tell me what you’ve done with my chest. Then I’m clapping you in chains, dragging you to the castle, and throwing you from the top—one off the south tower, one off the north.”

“Ha, ha,” Roy said, rubbing the back of his head. “You can’t do that. This ain’t the old days.”

“One,” said Lisle.

“He won’t,” Roy told his brother. “It’s a bluff. He won’t. It’s against the law. It’s murder. You heard him.” He looked about the tavern. “You, Tam MacEvoy. You heard him threaten murder.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” said Tam MacEvoy.

“Me, neither,” said Craig Archbald.

“For shame,” said someone. “Using Glaud’s weakness and his sister against him. And that isn’t half the story about them, your lordship.”

“You want some help, your lordship?” someone else called out.

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“No fair you having all the fun, sir,” someone else said.

“Mullcraik, fetch that rope of yours,” someone called.

“Two,” Lisle said.

“Kill us and you won’t find it!” Jock yelled. “Ever!”

“No, I won’t,” Lisle said. “But then, you won’t get it, either. Three.” Roy looked at Jock. They suddenly swung at the men nearest, knocking them down, then turned and ran toward the back of the tavern. A tankard flew threw the air, striking the back of Roy’s head. He went down.

A group of men surged toward him.

“Good arm,” Lisle told Olivia.

He started toward the melee.

“No!” Jock screamed. “Stop ’em. They’ll tear us to pieces. Stop ’em, your lordship.”

“Tell him where it is, then!” one of the men shouted.

The crowd gave way and a pair of men dragged Jock forward. Another group was pulling Roy’s unconscious form forward.

“Where is it?” Lisle said quietly.

Jock looked down at his brother.

One of the men holding Jock shook him impatiently. “Tell him, you bloody fool.”

“In the church,” Jock gasped.

I
t was late, but they had all the village with them, carrying torches and lanterns, joking and laughing.

They’d helped Lisle capture his villains and they’d helped him get the answer he wanted.

Daylight would be more convenient, but they were willing, and they deserved the fun of retrieving the Purloined Chest, as Olivia put it.

“Maybe your method was best, after all,” she said as they entered the ruined church.

“It was the two of us, working together,” he said. “You softened up their brains—

especially Jock’s. Then I got to knock them about.”

“Don’t forget the bit about your ability to lead men in battle,” she said.

“Whatever the combination was, it worked,” he said. “If Jock hadn’t given up the secret, we might have searched for months.”

“Even knowing it was in here,” she said, looking about her, “we should have the devil’s own time finding it.”

That was true enough. He was used to looking for subtle differences in a landscape, to tell him something was hidden there. But this was another realm. In daylight it might be easier, but at present he saw little to distinguish one heap of mossy stones from another.

Jock, his hands bound, was brought forward. “Here,” he said. He kicked a large stone slab. “Under these stones.”

The slabs he and Roy had laid over the hole looked as though they’d fallen there a long time ago. Even Lisle, using Belzoni’s method, might have missed the scrape marks, the one sign that these slabs had been moved recently. But then, he was used to looking in desert places, under a brilliant sun.

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With so many hands helping, the stones were easily moved. Then, using ropes, the men lifted the chest out of the hole.

Lisle let them leave it there for a few minutes, so that everyone could have a look.

It was a sight, with all its bands and locks and intricate keyholes.

“When everyone’s looked their fill, you can load it into the cart,” he told Tam MacEvoy.

“We’ll have to take it back to the castle for tonight. But I’ll expect to see all of you at noon tomorrow morning at the blacksmith for the opening.”

“Begging your lordship’s pardon,” said a big, burly man. “I’m John Larmour, the blacksmith, sir. You don’t need to wait for me to open the shop tomorrow. I’ll do it now, if you like. The fire’s low, but we can blow it up quick enough if we need to. Looking at that chest, though, I don’t think we need the fire.”

A chorus of cheers greeted this offer.

You people
, Lisle thought.
You remarkable people
.

He said, his voice a little choked. “Thank you, Larmour. That is most gracious.” He cleared his throat. “MacEvoy, get the chest loaded onto the cart and take it to Larmour’s shop. Herrick, send someone to the castle to invite Ladies Cooper and Withcote to join us.”

“And the ladies’ maids,” Olivia said.

He looked down at her. “And the ladies’ maids—and everybody. Bring our prisoners, too.

I wouldn’t have them miss this for the world.”

T
hey came out of their cottages as well, men, women, and children. A great crowd formed in front of the blacksmith’s shop. As many as could squeezed inside. Others clustered at the great open doorway. Fathers hoisted their children onto their shoulders.

The flickering candlelight threw dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling and over the faces of the eager audience.

Ladies Cooper and Withcote sat at the front of the audience, on a pair of cushioned stools the footmen had brought for their comfort. The upper servants stood nearby.

Jock and Roy stood within the shop door, legs and hands securely chained, and guards on either side.

John Larmour studied the chest for a time, then he said something.

Herrick had to translate, because Larmour’s burr was thick. Lisle had barely understood his speech at the church, and that was slow and simple. But Larmour was excited, and as he spoke more quickly, he became harder to understand.

“It’s a fine piece of workmanship, he says,” Herrick said. “He regrets having to do it a violence, but he will have to take a hacksaw to the outer locks.” Lisle nodded, and the blacksmith went to work.

It didn’t take long. With the padlocks off, Olivia could once more tackle the locking mechanisms with her picks. It took her some time to work out the sequence, but she finally got one keyhole cover released. She moved that aside and after experimenting with some of the blacksmith’s keys, and having him file one to her specifications, she unlocked that part. Then came the business of rotating some metal buttons, and simultaneously withdrawing hooks. Lisle had to help her. There was yet another mechanism, but by now she
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’d worked out the system, and that didn’t take as long.

She was careful, Lisle noticed, to position herself to block the onlookers’ view.

When she was done, she moved aside.

The audience cheered and applauded. There was a chorus of congratulations for Olivia, which seemed to be along the lines of “Well done, lass.”

“You do the honors,” she told Lisle.

He lifted the heavy lid.

Under it, an ornate metal screen concealed the intricate locking mechanisms. Atop the open chest lay a metal tray, elaborately decorated.

People promptly started wagering about what was under the tray. Coins, some said.

Jewels, said others. Books. Plate. Dirty laundry, said a few jokesters.

“Dirty pictures,” said Lady Cooper. “I’ll wager you five pounds, Millicent.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lady Withcote. “Papers aren’t that heavy. What they’ve got in there is sculptures. Some of those brass satyrs, most likely. Very popular in olden times.”

“I always liked a satyr,” said Lady Cooper.

“You mean Lord Squeevers, I suppose.”

“Squinty Squeevers? Certainly not. He was Cyclops.”

“But he had those hairy legs—”

“You should have seen his nether parts.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Do you remember the time—”

“Speaking of time,” Olivia said. “All bets in? Good. Lord Lisle, please end the suspense.” He took out the metal tray.