Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy (2 page)

Our movement was supported by mothers, sisters and wives of all classes. We demanded not only for the right to vote, but radical social reform. Out of four million women, over one quarter were domestic servants - overworked, underpaid slaves of employers, where ostentation and drudgery went together.

Since the death of Queen Victoria, no one knew what to expect of the future reign of King Edward VIII. 'It seemed we stood on the edge of a precipice,' Jack said, little guessing that in fact his life, mine and that of the child he rarely saw were indeed trembling on the brink. In a few days the whole scene of our domestic life would be irrevocably changed for ever.

CHAPTER TWO

As with most major events in one's life, there were no dramatic signals, only a chance meeting in Jenners with one of my elderly clients, for whom I had sorted out a very minor domestic problem regarding a missing watch she suspected had been stolen by the window cleaner. After an exhaustive search and extensive enquiries it was later discovered by me on my hands and knees in the shrubbery, having fallen out of the window when it was opened by the maid.

For some reason she remained grateful to the extent of even acknowledging my presence in company - not at all usual with most of my clients, who were usually eager, or had good reason to wish to forget the painful incident which had led them to commission my assistance.

On this occasion I had been in the toy department looking for a suitable present for Jack's wee Meg. I had little experience of such matters, but possibly a great deal more than Jack, and feeling triumphant over the purchase of a small pretty doll with a spare set of clothes, I made my way upstairs to the restaurant.

And there was Mrs Lawers. 'I saw you entering the toy department when I was on my way upstairs and ...' She paused. 'Do please join me, that is if you haven't an engagement and can spare a few moments.'

I took a seat opposite, and ordered my pot of tea, putting down my new purchase on a vacant chair.

I said, 'A doll for a small girl.'

'Might I take a look?' Smiles of approval followed and she said, 'I have been similarly engaged - a pretty dress for a friend's granddaughter in London. The good Lord did not oblige me with children of my own.'

I regarded her thoughtfully; it did not take any great flight of imagination to realise that there was something more significant heavily at work in Mrs Lawers' mind than polite rejoinders concerning Edinburgh's weather and the inevitable change of royalty, which all loyal citizens seemed to feel obliged to include in their conversations.

Mrs Lawers had aged considerably since our last meeting. I noticed the walking stick, and at my enquiry regarding her health, she sighed.

'I have chronic rheumatism and the physicians say there is little hope. It is very sad as I am almost unable to travel any more.' Tears had welled in her eyes; she touched her breast in the region of her heart. 'I fear I am not well or long for this world, my dear; my only wish is to see the only kin I have, a cousin never met since childhood, to pass on to him some valued family items, including documents, long in my keeping.'

She paused and looked at me, biting her lip. 'I am almost afraid to ask this question, an impertinence really and one you may not even consider. My cousin's family home is at Lochandor, in Perth. I have never visited them, but believe it is a fine old house.' Another sigh. 'And that is where I wish to travel.' Leaning across, she placed a hand on my arm and said hesitantly, 'I wonder ... could I possibly engage your services as a travelling companion, to see me safely there, my journey - my mission - fulfilled?'

I recognised 'engaging my services' as the polite way of hinting that a fee was involved, but the request seemed odd. She must have seen by my reaction that this was a curious request. Surely she had servants who might accompany her.

Smiling sadly she shook her head. 'I know what you are thinking, my dear - this is what is required of one's personal maid. But there is a problem. I have no one who I can trust; my dear Hinton is as old as I am and equally infirm. There is no one else. A solicitor is too busy and would not even consider such a request, but I wondered ... that is, if you were not busy with a case at the moment ...'

An anxious frown, then she brightened. 'And when I saw you I decided that the good Lord had given me a sign, had sent me an angel.'

I hardly saw myself in such a role, but I was intrigued and sorry for the old lady. Still it did not quite make sense until she leant over the table again and whispered, 'I must have someone I can trust, you see. These packages I will be carrying have long been in my family's possession; they are a legacy handed down through the generations.' A sigh. 'As the last direct descendant I have been trustee of the legacy all my life.' A sad smile. 'Now my life is drawing to its close, the legacy's safekeeping must not be imperilled. It is essential that I go to Lochandor and see it handed on in person, delivered to the remaining member of our family.'

Watching me intently as I refilled our teacups, she said, 'I am aware that I am asking a great deal and you must have time to think about it and to make any necessary arrangements. But as you are a young lady on your own ...'

She left it unfinished. She must have been one of the few who did not know of my scandalous existence as the common-law wife of Jack Macmerry.

I could not refuse her request face-to-face, but it was true I needed time to consider, to discuss it with Jack. I promised to let her know shortly.

She frowned. 'Do not leave it too long. I must leave by the end of the week.' Looking over her shoulder as if she might be overheard, 'There is ... danger, danger for me,' she whispered, 'if I do not leave soon. There are others who wish to lay their hands on ... what I am taking to Lochandor. Will you call upon me when you have decided - tomorrow perhaps?'

I promised to do so and escorted her to her waiting carriage. Since she lived in Duddingston village, her road led via Arthur's Seat and I would be dropped off at Solomon's Tower.

She was silent on the short journey, sitting back with her eyes closed, pale-looking and seeming utterly exhausted. I already had misgivings about what a visit to rural Perthshire with this frail old lady would involve.

As the carriage drew up at my home, she handed me the leather bag which she carried. 'Will you take care of this for me?'

I was startled. It looked ancient and shabby but I presumed it was a favourite and long-treasured handbag. As I had not said yes to her request I replied, 'If this contains the valuables you mentioned, surely I am not the proper person; it should be with your bank.'

She shook her head. 'This satchel never leaves my possession, day or night, but alas I have reason to believe I cannot keep its contents safe in my own home a day longer. There are dangerous signs around me, my dear. They are no longer secure under my roof,' she added, staring in the direction of the loch, 'and for that reason I now feel they will be safer with you in neutral territory.'

And taking my hand, 'I hope and pray most earnestly that you will decide to accompany me. It will merely be two days, to see me safe to my family, that is all I ask, and you will of course be a guest at Lochandor.'

I left her, wondering what on earth I had let myself in for. What would Jack say? And what did this bag contain that was so precious?

Jack's response wasn't as mocking as I expected. His immediate interest was the fact that Mrs Lawers lived in one of the Duddingston houses associated with Bonnie Prince Charlie. And that satchel, he declared, was exactly the kind officers carried during their troop manoeuvres in 1745.

Had I been inside her home? What did it look like? I assured him that it looked merely ordinary, the sitting room low-roofed, the windows small. He seemed disappointed, obviously having expected something a mite more grand and dramatic.

'Lochandor did you say? Is that her destination?' And unrolling one of his maps, pointing to the district, he traced his finger down an inch or so to the west. 'Tarnbrae - now that is a coincidence, it's where Meg is living now with her aunt and uncle.' Taking out his wallet, he removed an envelope. 'Here it is; Joe has taken a position as clerk to the local laird.'

I had to confess I knew very little about Meg's adoptive parents. 'Remember I told you, Joe worked in the shipyard on the Clyde, but his health has been poor, and he applied for this job, apparently got it too. Pam said it would be good for them to get away into the country for a change.'

Putting down envelope and map, he regarded me triumphantly. 'Well done, Rose. Yes, by all means, I think you should take up Mrs Lawers' offer. Gives you a chance to look in and see how Meg is settling down. And you can give me a full report.'

I said, 'I was thinking about Meg - in fact that's how I came to meet Mrs Lawers.'

Showing him the doll, he nodded appreciatively. 'You can give it to her yourself, that's even better.'

He sighed and shook his head sadly, and I heard in that sigh echoes of guilt for his neglect of his daughter, the wee girl he had seen no more than for a duty visit once or twice a year since the day she was born, who had been gratefully adopted by her childless aunt and uncle.

'I would love to go with you, but there are matters at Central Office. I am in court, we've got witnesses from Glasgow, a murder investigation on our hands ...'

There was to be another, nearer at home, quite soon.

CHAPTER THREE

A month had passed since Jack and I made the annual pilgrimage to the battlefield at Prestonpans. Now the first leaves had changed colour; a riot of yellows, reds and oranges had replaced the massed greens of summer. This annual scene of earthly beauty was breathtaking but transient; already storms were growling over the Firth of Forth, unleashing heavy rain clouds, driving across fields and gardens, while the first icy winds swept down from Arthur's Seat, hiding its lofty lion's head under a swirling shroud of mist.

My proposed journey with Mrs Lawers would involve travelling by train to Perth, then by coach across a rural area, to me a virtually unknown and curiously alien land. I hoped that the never-reliable weather wouldn't mean an early snowfall, bringing with it the yearly closing of the Highland glens and inaccessible travelling conditions. Even close to towns, winter journeys were always hazardous and subject to long delays.

'The autumn colours will be superb,' said Jack encouragingly. 'Only wish I could go with you,' he repeated. 'I am so anxious for news of Meg. Tell her I promise I will visit her next summer. Maybe earlier, it all depends,' he added vaguely.

How far away summer seemed. Sometimes I wondered if his new obsession with the Jacobite Rebellion was his escape from the present, from feelings of guilt for the neglect of the daughter born of that swift unhappy marriage to her mother on the rebound of my rejection. A marriage made in anger and revenge for my refusal to become his wife.

And if this supposition was true, then I too had a share in his guilt: my lame excuse for not agreeing to marry him - that Danny McQuinn might still be alive - had resulted, directly or indirectly, in his hasty union with Meg's mother, and now I felt a responsibility towards this unwanted child I had never met.

The day of my departure with Mrs Lawers approached. In reply to my acceptance I received a very substantial fee with a note that a hiring carriage would take us both to Waverley railway station.

My absence promised to be brief indeed; merely deliver Mrs Lawers to Lochandor, call on Meg in her new home, perhaps spend the night with her adoptive parents, and return the next day.

Jack would be home each night and Thane was in charge of the Tower as always in our absence. We never locked the kitchen door once he'd learnt how to lift the latch with his nose. He would feed himself, returning to hunting as he had done long before he came into my life. I had no idea how old he was at that time. He seemed young and hadn't aged at all, so I tried not to remember that a dog does not live for ever and that the lifespan of large breeds was even shorter than small ones.

Except that Thane was more than a dog. I would close my eyes and simply hope that this strange creature did not obey the natural canine laws. He had survived more 'deaths' than a cat's nine lives, a fact that neither of us could explain, and if I ever wondered out loud as to Thane's background, Jack merely shrugged, shook his head and said, 'Thane is Thane. That's all we know of him or ever will. We must satisfy ourselves that we need never expect to know more about him than we do at this moment.'

And so I prepared to leave, heartened as ever that it would take a very brave burglar to face this particular and peculiar resident of the Tower.

At last I was ready, and as a cautionary measure, remembering Mrs Lawers' fears for her life and safety, however irrational, I decided to be prepared for any emergency and took out of my study desk a small derringer and checked it for bullets, thankful that Jack was not observing my actions.

He would have been scandalised. I had learnt to use guns and rifles from Danny McQuinn in our pioneering days in Arizona. I was even rather a good shot, although I hoped that I would not have to prove that once again. I was prepared only to use this ultimate deterrent in direst necessity.

My small travelling case normally served as my carrier. Jack had devised and made it for me some time ago, to leave my hands free for the handlebars of my bicycle. It fitted comfortably on to the back of the machine and was considerably easier to carry with a shoulder strap than the rather unwieldy large suitcases and hatboxes now considered fashionable by most ladies.

Jack had already departed for the Central Office when I heard the carriage arrive. To my surprise, the woman who emerged was not Mrs Lawers. This must be Hinton, the maid whom I had never met, since she had been away at the time of the missing watch incident.

Looking past the maid, I expected to see Mrs Lawers already seated. But the maid was alone. She came forward rather tearfully and introduced herself. 'I have sad news. Alas, my mistress is very poorly this morning.'