Rumors Among the Heather (23 page)

“Ribble, let the
current carry the boat back out. It’ll crash against the rocks.
Let’s hope Hamilton thinks we broke up and drowned. It may only
slow them down a bit before he and his men realize the ruse,”
Matthew said. Ribble nodded his head in agreement.

Matthew and Ribble
walked quickly, taking care to keep to the shadows and bushes.

“Where are we going?”
Ribble questioned in a hoarse whisper.

“We’re going to the
Charleston Inn. If anybody knows where Julie is, it would have to
be Mrs. Parsons. I believe Julie went often to visit her on her
days off.”

They made their way
silently to the inn. Having scaled the wall surrounding the house
like thieves in the night, they maneuvered their way to the back of
the house. Stopping short, they were surprised to see a light on in
the back parlor.

He and Ribble crept
closer to the parlor window. Hamilton had beaten them there. Mrs.
Parsons sat down and dissolved into tears. Geoffrey continued to
badger her with loud angry words. “You can deny it all you want to,
but I know you know where she is. She comes to see you all the
time. This is obstruction of justice. Either you tell me where she
is, or I’ll have you arrested. Do I make myself clear, madam?”

“Now, see here,
Hamilton. You’ve no right to barge into our home this way and at
this ungodly hour. And I might add you’ve no authority here. My
mother has told you she doesn’t know where Miss Hastings is.
Indeed, she’d have no way of knowing. We’ve only been back a few
days ourselves from Glasgow. We inquired about her on our return,
of course, but only to find she was gone. I’m afraid I must ask you
to leave. I’ll not stand for your brow-beating my mum,” Robbie
protested heatedly. He then walked over to the door and opened it
for Geoffrey.

“If you’re hiding her,
I’ll find out. You haven’t heard the last of me. I will be back
with a warrant.” Geoffrey’s blustering had no effect on Robbie. He
insisted they leave, and be quick about it.

Robbie sat down beside
his mother and put his arm around her. After making certain
Geoffrey was no longer a threat, Matthew knocked on the door before
entering and making their way to the parlor.

Matthew crossed
quickly to where Mrs. Parsons sat and took her hands in his. Mrs.
Parsons seemed to calm down immediately. “Mrs. Parsons, I’m sorry
to barge in on you like this, but time is short. Please, do you
have any idea where Miss Hastings might go?”

“What’s Miss Hastings
done? Is she in some kind of trouble? Please tell me. Dr Hamilton
was here trying to find out the same thing, but he wouldn’t tell us
why,” Mrs. Parsons said in a rush. A frown marred her features as
she looked from one to the other.

“I can’t answer for
Dr. Hamilton, but I have to find her before he does. She said
something about an aunt sending her Christmas presents. I think she
may have gone there. Please try to remember, Mrs. Parsons. She told
Ribble the name, but he can’t seem to remember,” Matthew urged.

“Yes, she did talk
about an aunt once. I don’t remember her name or where she lived
though,” Mrs. Parsons said distractedly.

Matthew continued to
hold her hand. “Please try, it’s truly important.”

“Just a moment,
perhaps it will come back to me.”

Mrs. Parsons’ frown
increased before she spoke again. “Lady Catherine Blaine, I think.
Miss Hastings’ father always called her Kitty. She married Lord
Blaine, or Blair. I’m not sure, but I think it was Blair. It’s all
coming back to me now. I still can’t remember where she lived. I
know it was somewhere on the east coast, but I’m not sure where.
Dearie me, I think it could have been Aberdeen, but I’m not sure.
I’m sorry, I’m not being much help.”

“It’s more than I had
a few minutes ago. At least I have a place to start looking.”
Matthew sat quietly by Mrs. Parsons’ side, lost in thought.

Robbie cleared his
throat. Mrs. Parsons’ son looked uncomfortable. “Your lordship,
aren’t you wanted by the king?” Robbie asked pointedly.

“Yes, and most
particularly by that piece of maggot bait that just left here,”
Matthew said angrily.

“Consider, my lord, I
don’t know the political leanings of our servants, but all this
racket must have roused the soundest sleeper. We only have one
guest at this time, and I think we can fob him off. Begging your
pardon, my lord, I think it best if you leave us with the utmost
haste.”

“Yes, of course. If
I’ve put you in danger by coming here, I’m sorry.”

Matthew looked
earnestly at Mrs. Parsons and Robbie. Robbie shook his head with a
hint of a smile. Matthew continued, “Mrs. Parsons, if I could
impose on you still further, could we borrow two horses from your
stables? I would gladly pay you for them.”

“That won’t be
necessary. Take the horses, just do me the favor of leaving
quietly,” Robbie persisted.

They followed Robbie
outside to the stables where two horses were saddled quickly. With
nothing more than a handshake, Matthew and Ribble were on their
way. Ribble remembered the direction Julie had started to take
before he’d waylaid her, and they too headed east up the
trackway.

They rode on through
the night, stopping just before daybreak. It would not be safe for
them to be seen even this far away from Gairloch. As the sun came
up, they searched for a place to rest their horses and pass the
time until nightfall. Ribble stood watch while fishing for their
dinner. At noon, Matthew took over the watch and the fishing. By
late afternoon, the horses had their fill of grass. Ribble and
Matthew were full of fish and fried bread. Ribble had purloined
some bacon and flour from Mrs. Parsons’ larder on his way to the
stables.

Their quarrel was not
mended, only postponed.

At dusk, they saddled
up and were on their way again. The rain started just after sundown
and continued to drizzle. At the height of the storm, they took
refuge under an outcropping of rocks along the path.

“I can’t imagine what
she could be thinking to come this way, if she did. Anything could
happen,” Matthew said more to himself than to Ribble.

“Aye, ’twas foolhardy,
but if anyone could make it, it would be the lass,” Ribble said
with admiration coming through his voice.

“You sound almost
proud. Am I the only one with any common sense? I don’t even know
why we’re out here,” Matthew said angrily.

“Dinnae ye ken what ye’re doing here?” Ribble said
with a grin.

“No, I
don’t
ken,” Matthew mimicked back.

“Then ye’re more
foolish than the lass or meself,” Ribble said with a shake of his
head.

Matthew stared at his
old friend. Why was he chasing a shadow across Scotland with the
hounds of hell at his heels? Their marriage had no chance. It could
not be mended. They were just too different. Where the weed of
distrust flourished, could anything else grow?

When he did catch up
with Julie, he would have the marriage annulled. No one would be
the wiser. They both could get on with their lives. Even as he
thought about giving Julie up, an almost unbearable gloom seemed to
surround him and smother him.

I can’t love her. I
can’t. She’s made a fool out of me, she’s cheated on me, and she’s
turned my friend against me. So why am I out here in these
godforsaken mountains looking for her?

With something that
sounded like a cross between a moan and a growl, he forced his
horse out into the slackening rain. They rode on through the night,
conspicuously silent, like two ghosts upon the landscape.

* * *

Julie’s day had been
long; she’d walked until noon and then stopped only long enough to
eat her meager ration of food. The sun grew hotter as the day wore
on, the rough wool of the borrowed clothes rubbed against her skin,
and the shoes chafed her heels, causing blisters. The arches of her
feet also ached. The grass and weeds she’d stuffed inside her shoes
had worked loose. Then she’d decided to walk barefoot, but her feet
were unaccustomed to the rocks in her path. She now had bruises to
go with her blisters. She stopped to put her boots back on her
feet, and the absurdity of her situation struck her as she looked
down at her boots where they were beginning to work loose from
their soles. Unbidden, laughter bubbled up in her and before she
knew it, her laughter turned into tears which ran down her
cheeks.

Just as abruptly as
the tears came, they stopped when she realized she was out of
control. She felt foolish, but at least the tears released some of
the tension and renewed her strength.

Sheepishly, she stood
up, wiped her eyes, and continued to hobble on her way. She walked
until she could not put one foot in front of the other. She spotted
another fir tree some distance from the road, and walked through an
open field of heather and gorse bushes to crawl under its branches,
too tired to eat. She closed her eyes and slept fitfully.

At daybreak Julie
awoke with a jerk. Shaking with fear, she listened, but she could
not hear a sound. Afraid to move, she kept herself glued to the
spot. Hoof beats grew louder and louder, coming close to where she
lay. She huddled closer to the trunk of the tree until the riders
had passed by.

After devouring the
last of her food and washing in a nearby stream, she began her
journey again. Each day she traveled across fewer and fewer miles.
Her feet slowed her down the most. They were swollen, and bled from
time to time. Walking all day and sleeping on the hard, cold ground
at night left the rest of her body sore and stiff when morning
came. She stumbled along like a cripple until she could go no
farther, then she would stop to rest a short while, and all too
soon she would be on her way again. She had purchased a flask for
water in the village and refilled it at every stream. At the moment
water was not a concern. Julie knew she must find food, but she had
not seen a single house in the last four days. The mountain she
walked toward still looked as far away as ever.

I don’t appear to be
gaining distance. If only I knew how many more miles to the coast.
Surely I’ll be there in a day or two. Or perhaps I’ll die out here,
alone and unnoticed. My flesh eaten by the wild creatures of prey
and my bones bleached by the scorching sun.

Julie shook her head;
she must not think that way. She had to press on. But if something
did happen to her, would Matthew even notice she was gone?
I
can’t think this way. I must press on.
When evening came, she
stopped earlier than usual by a small rippling stream. She watched
the fish swim by.
I’m so hungry, and just look at those fish. I
could almost touch them. There must be some way I could catch
one.

She tried standing in
the stream and thrusting her hands into the cold water as the fish
swam by, but they were either too fast or too slippery for her. She
remembered reading about the Indians in the colonies and how they
speared their fish. She found a sturdy stick and took one of her
shoelaces and bound her knife to the stick, making a spear. She
tried and tried, but each time she came up short. In desperate
frustration, she hurled the spear into the water at a fish one last
time, and caught it.

Julie cleaned the fish
and prepared it for her supper, but she had no fire and no way to
make one. She sat down and wanted to cry, to be angry, or to throw
something. In the end, her hunger overcame her fastidiousness, and
she tasted the raw fish. To her surprise, she found she could eat
almost anything if she were desperate enough.

She found a place to
sleep and woke up the next morning once again hungry, tired, and
sore. Wearily, she rose and started on her journey.

The sun reached high
in the sky and beat down on her head and shoulders. Her head ached
from its constant battering. She sat down in the shade of a tree to
rest, and began to nod in sleep, her eyes too heavy to stay open.
She awoke to a dirty hand clamped over her mouth and her arm being
twisted painfully behind her back.

She stared, terrified,
into the eyes of a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy. “Would ye look
at what we got here, Allan? I do believe we got ourselves a spy.”
He pushed Julie’s arm farther into her back and seemed to enjoy the
pain he inflicted.

“Air ye daft, Tom?
He’s no more than a bairn in his first pair of long pants. Let ’im
go,” Allan ordered.

Tom let Julie go with
a shove that sent her head first into the dirt. She stood up slowly
with her hand full of dirt and slung it at Tom. She kicked his legs
out from under him while he sputtered and tried to get the dirt out
of his eyes. The sight of his friend’s predicament seemed to amuse
Allan. He began to laugh. Julie looked from one lad to the other,
unable to move. By this time, Tom had regained his eyesight. Allan
grabbed Julie and put her behind him before a sputtering Tom could
take another run at her.

“Well, what air we
goin’ to do with him?” Tom asked with a sneer. “I say he’s a spy.
Nobody else would be in these woods alone.”

“We’ll let Himself
decide. Bring ’im along,” Allan said.

“Let who decide? Leave
me alone. I’ve done nothing,” Julie shouted.

Julie found herself
blindfolded and being dragged through the brush and briars until
she reached the lair of an outlaw of the resistance known as Angus
the Younger. He wore the kilt of his clan and sat on a large carved
chair while people from the countryside filed in for his judgment
on their squabbles. They deferred to him as a king in exile and
treated him as such. No one questioned or argued with his
decisions. His word was the final say and his wish the law.

Julie’s heart began to
pound while she waited for her turn to be brought before this
paragon. Allan and Tom brought her to the foot of his throne and
deposited her on the ground at his feet. When she tried to get up,
they pushed her down.