MacFarlane's Ridge (29 page)

As they drove to Bedford, they made small talk about the beauty of the changing leaves and the mild weather. Cam tried not to think about Mollie Duncan or Robert.

Troy introduced her to the woman at the county archives. “This is Diana Basham. Her family’s been here since… well, how long, Diana?”

The woman smiled. “Peyton Basham, who was my eighth great-grandfather, was born here in Bedford in 1746. His father, William Senior, arrived here some time around 1722.”

Cam was impressed. “The family I’m interested in is the Duncan family, from near Haver Springs.”

Diana nodded. “Mollie Duncan, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Troy has probably told you we have quite a bit of correspondence here from Mollie. She married into one of the other families in the area, the MacFarlanes. We have several letters from her to a sea captain named Robert MacFarlane, who apparently was a brother of her husband’s.”

Cam looked at Troy. “Ian,” she murmured.

“I believe so,” Diana said. She produced a key from her pocket and motioned to another room. “Come on in here. We keep all the originals in a climate-controlled room. Keeps the humidity from taking its toll on them.”

Cam entered the room hesitantly. “Are there… is there any return correspondence?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You said you had her letters to Robert. Did he write back?”

Diana shook her head. “He wrote to her prior to 1776, but after that, I don’t know for sure. I would assume so, but we don’t have any of those.”

Of course you don’t
, thought Cam.
She wrote to him but he couldn’t have written back, because he died in Richmond.

There were two small tables in the room, as well as several containers that looked like bank safety-deposit boxes. Diana Basham pulled one of the boxes from its shelf and laid it on a table. “Please be very careful with these.”

“Can we make copies of them?”

Diana nodded. “See how each document is encased in a plastic sleeve? Keep it in the sleeve even when you’re making copies. That way you won’t burn them up.”

Cam and Troy thanked her, and she left the room.

June 9, 1776 –

Dearest Robert,

Angus has written to me from Richmond, and tells me the Sad Tale of events leading to the departure of the Lady Meg. He was greatly upset and most fearful to leave you alone not knowing if you would live or not. As I am sure you have learned by now, when he arrived at the inn – the Captain Carter, I believe? – all he found was our Father’s Sword, which he has duly returned to its place over the mantle. He made inquiries for quite some time, but it appears that Cameron has vanished without a trace. The barmaid did say that she left in the company of Mr. Sinclair, and another woman whose name Angus has not mentioned to me. Angus seemed reluctant to discuss it further in his letter.

He has also advised me that he is not returning to Philadelphia, and another delegate shall take his place with the Continental Congress while Angus stays here in Virginia. We have just received word that this great State itself enacted a Resolution for Independence last month, and there is much celebrating in the settlements. In part, it reads: “Our properties are subjected to confiscation, our people, when captivated, compelled to join in the murder and plunder of their relations and countrymen, and all former rapine and oppression of Americans declared legal and just… the delegates appointed… declare the United Colonies free and independent states, absolved from allegiance to, or dependence upon, the crown or parliament of Great Britain…”

I believe that this battle for Independence from the Crown shall come to a head soon. Angus says he will be joining any fighting that takes place, his exact words are “I shall do as I am meant to do.” His passion for this freedom, so closely within our grasp, frightens me and yet I am proud to call him my brother the Patriot.

I do hope that you are fully recovered from your physical injuries. Robert, I cannot begin to tell you how greatly it grieves me that you are once more alone. I know how much you loved her, and I know she felt a Great Deal of Affection for you.

I am sorry that you feel you cannot return to the Ridge, and have instead opted to remain on the High Seas.

As always, I remain,

Yours,

Mollie

July 27, 1776

Dearest Robert,

Oh, such dramatic news on so many fronts!! I only wish you would write back to me, as I long to hear the tales of Great Adventure that you so often used to send me in your letters. I miss your stories of far-off lands that I shall never see, and magnificent sea creatures and sandy Islands, and pagan peoples who chant and dance around great fires in the night. I know it is possible you are dead, but until I know for certain I shall continue to write.

First, I should tell you that Ian and I are now married. After many months of fumbling with our affections towards one another, he finally mumbled some sort of Declaration of Love, which brought tears of joy to my eyes. Our wedding was held on July 4
th
, with Tom and Sally Kerr in attendance, and their poor daughter Betsy, of whom I shall write more in a moment. Angus and his new bride arrived back at the Ridge as well, and although he was not in time for the wedding itself my dear brother did make himself available to drink plenty of whiskey with Ian afterwards in celebration.

July 4
th
was a momentous day for the rest of our nation as well – yes, I said Nation, not Colonies!! A Declaration of Independence was penned by Angus’ friend Mr. Jefferson of Staunton, and signed by men from all thirteen colonies – no, we are now known as states – and then sent to King George himself! Angus was rather peeved at not being present at the signing of this letter, but tells me that this is the first step to our nation’s newfound liberty.

I mentioned above that Angus has taken a bride. He brought her home to the Ridge with him, and I have not yet decided whether I like her or not but I shall attempt to be Charitable. Her name is Winnie and she has hair in a shade of red that I have never seen on a decent woman before. She has eyes like a cat and sometimes I feel as though she can see right into my Soul. I know little about her, although Ian did tell me she is from near Big Lick. They also bring with them your young cabin boy, Jamie, who they intend to raise as their son. He is coarse and foul-mouthed – what boy wouldn’t be, having been raised by sailors? No disrespect intended to you or your company, Robert -- but I think, despite his rough ways, that he is a good child, and I shall try to see that he is raised properly.

On to Betsy Kerr – a most Awful and Scandalous Thing has happened and Tom is up in arms about the entire matter. It would seem that dear Betsy is with child, and of course she is not married and Tom has put her out. Sally came to me and told me the news, and so I have offered Betsy refuge in my former house, since I am now moved into Ian’s. Betsy is having a terrible time of it, and I fear for her well-being and the babe’s. She will not discuss the matter with me at all, but I am reluctant to press her for information as it is obvious she does not want to talk about it. Tom believes the Culprit may be one of the Murray or MacGregor boys, but Betsy refuses to name the father of her child. I am afraid that all I can do is offer her sanctuary, and hope that it shall be enough.

I wish you love, and hope that this letter finds you well.

Your sister-in-law at last,

Mollie Duncan MacFarlane

August 23, 1776

Dear Rob,

I do not know where you are, and The Lady Meg seems to have vanished off the face of the earth. Robert, I know you were wounded gravely – in more ways than one – but please let us know that you are alive. I could not bear it were I to lose another person I loved, especially the one who told me once that “without fear, there is no courage.”

Great and wonderful news – I am fairly certain that Ian and I are expecting a child in the Spring. We have not yet told anyone because it is too soon, but Ian believes the child is a boy. I am secretly hoping for a girl. Winnie looks at me strangely, with her mysterious smile, and although I have told no one this, I believe she is aware of my condition. She is what my grandmother would call a White Lady, one who knows the unknown, and sees the unseen.

Betsy Kerr is still in my house, and is frail and despondent. Sally brings her things when Tom is not about, and sneaks up to visit with her. Tom is angry with me for protecting her, as she has still not named the father and he has publicly decried her as a Whore. I am saddened by the whole sordid affair, and hope Tom will come to his senses and allow Betsy and his Grandchild back into their home some day.

October 5, 1776

Dear Mistress Duncan –

It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that I write this letter. Your brother-in-law, Robert MacFarlane, and I were great friends for many years, and today is a day of loss for all of us.

You may or may not be aware of an incident which took place aboard my ship on the afternoon that we sailed out of Richmond. A man, whose name I shall not mention, as it is no longer relevant, shot Robert in the leg during a disagreement over a woman, after which Robert fell and hit his head on a statue I keep in my cabin. The perpetrator of this misdeed fled the ship as we pulled out of the port, and I later put your brother Angus off on a skiff so that he could return home to you and your family. In retrospect, perhaps I should have done the same with Robert. His wound was not fatal – should not have been fatal, but festered for several weeks. I offered to have my surgeon cut off his leg but he threatened to kill me if we so much as laid a hand upon him, and in truth I believe he would have done so without a second thought. In the end, there was nothing our ship’s physician could do to save him, as the poisoning had spread too far.

The Lady Meg
shall depart Charleston this afternoon, at which point we shall be en route to the New England Colonies, where we have been contracted to search out British merchants, board them, take their cargo and capture their crews and passengers. I have enclosed for you in this packet some of his personal belongings. There is also a document deeding his portion of
the Lady Meg
to his nephew Hamish and our former cabin boy, Jamie Fleming. I shall send the boys their profits in your care, Mistress Duncan, as Robert always told me of the high regard in which he holds – held – you. The profits from this ship are not large, but they should dramatically increase once I begin engaging the cargo ships of the Enemy, and shall certainly make Jamie and Hamish comfortable should they ever find themselves in need of means of support.

I shall miss Robert a great deal.

Yours in sorrow,

Dominic Thibodeaux, Captain

The Lady Meg

Port of Charleston, South Carolina

Cam looked at Troy, her face pale, as she stared at the letter. “So there it is. He really died.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “So he did. Their letters must have crossed at some point. It would have taken weeks for her to receive the one from Thibodeaux.”

“Okay. Okay, so that’s it, then.” Cam stared at the curly letters on the creamy parchment, willing herself not to burst into tears. “Winnie. Angus is married to a redheaded woman named Winnie.”

He nodded slowly. “Wanda. She must have gone back to Richmond to find him.”

Cam motioned to the letters. “I think,” she said slowly, “that you were right. There is only going to be one way to find out for sure what happened to Mollie and Ian and everyone else.”

He nodded. “The journals.”

“The journals,” Cam said with finality. “We have to find them.”

For the next three days, she sorted through boxes in Emily’s bedroom, but found nothing. On the fourth day, she climbed the steep steps to the attic.

The attic ran the entire length of the house, and a small round window at each end provided some sunlight, in addition to the three bare bulbs that dangled from the central rafters. As a child, when she first came to live with Granny Emily, Cam was afraid of the attic. There were a hundred years’ worth of dust and decay in there, and the corners under the eaves were shadowy and terrifying to a lonely child of nine.

Trunks and chests were stacked along the walls, along with remnants of the lives of so many of the house’s previous occupants. A dressmaker’s mannequin here, a tricycle there. Cam shivered and hoped there were no spiders.

She selected a trunk, and began to explore.

The next morning, Troy Adams let himself in to the old Victorian with the key Cam had given him. There was no sign of her in the shop, and the “closed” sign was up.

“Cam?” he called, leaning up the stairs to the second floor. There was still no answer. The house was quiet. The young deputy began to worry, and climbed the stairs, panting a little. What if something had happened to Cam? She was so depressed lately. “Cam, are you okay?” he yelled.

There was a creak above him, and footsteps, and then he saw her descending the steps from the attic.