Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy (6 page)

Telling him I could take care of that myself, I walked down the steps resolving to do something immediate and drastic about my appearance. My lack of interest in fashionable clothes - or indeed any, other than those needed for bicycling - had twice portrayed me as a maid seeking employment. How Jack would enjoy that when I told him.

What to do next? In no mood to search the potato-picking fields of the area in search of Meg's adoptive parents, although logic suggested that if such was their destination they would have taken her with them, I returned to the cottage, tore a page out of my notebook and wrote that I was a friend of Meg's father and hoped to find them at home on a future visit. With that Jack would have to be content.

Walking in the direction of the entrance gates, completely dismayed by my present predicament, the prospect of the long walk back to Lochandor's railway halt and a possibly long wait for the next train home to Edinburgh, the drive seemed interminable.

I was suddenly aware that the slight headache which had been hovering for a couple of hours was gathering violent momentum. I also felt very sick indeed, my stomach churning, although I had eaten nothing since breakfast. Worse, my vision became blurred. Dizzy, I felt distinctly faint.

Needing to give relief to what I hoped was a temporary upset that would pass in a few minutes, I sat down on the grass verge. I felt really dreadful. Was this the reaction from my fall from the train that Dr Everson had warned me about? There was another terrible possibility looming. That I had succumbed to Mrs Lawers' influenza. She had looked very poorly the day we met in Jenners and it was quite possible that she already had the influenza on her and was in a highly infectious state.

My troubles had just begun. As I sat there feeling very sorry for myself, it began to rain. Wondering how on earth I was going to shelter and get to the railway station I stood up, shivering and so weak that I could hardly drag one foot after the other. Panic overwhelmed me. I felt so terrible; was I going to die out here on the drive to the Tarnbrae golf course?

At that moment, the rumble of wheels approached from the clubhouse direction. The driver saw me, stopped and leant out. I realised I must have been a dreadful sight when he called, 'Anything wrong, miss?'

A passenger looked out of the window and asked what was the matter.

I could hardly speak but gasped out that I had called on a friend who was not at home.

The young woman looked at me. 'You can't stay out there in the rain. Come inside.' And so saying she opened the door. I was assisted up the step, ushered to a seat and asked my destination.

The three passengers were a young married couple and the girl's brother, and as they made room for me, the talk was about what shots the two men had played, their handicaps and so forth. All this seemed to give them cause for fierce argument.

Thankfully ignored, I leant back, eyes closed, and heard the young woman whisper to her companions, 'She's very pale, poor thing, she looks quite ill.'

A gentle touch on my arm. 'You don't look at all well, miss.' I murmured some vague response. There was more whispered conversation as I tried to summon up energy to reassure them and failed.

'Look,' said the brother, leaning forward. 'I am going to Corstorphine. Please allow me to see you safely to Edinburgh.'

The carriage journey seemed endless. Finally the couple were dropped off on the outskirts of the city, accompanied by cheers and laughingly rude remarks between the two men regarding the success of their next golfing assignment and the practise needed.

I tried to respond civilly to the young man's polite remarks as we headed into the city but I heard not a word of his conversation, barely able to keep my eyes open, my head pounding a fearful tattoo with every jolt of the carriage, every cobblestone like a sharp nail driven into my skull.

I expected to be set down in the centre of the town, and as we crossed Princes Street and began the slow climb up Waverly Bridge I said, 'You have missed your road.'

My escort, whose name was Eric, smiled. 'You are in no fit state to travel anywhere, miss, and it is my intention to see you safely home.'

When I protested that this was taking him out of his way, he held up his hand. 'I am taking you to your own door, miss, so if you will kindly give me directions.'

Five minutes later Arthur's Seat hovered above us, shortly followed by Solomon's Tower, at the base of Samson's Ribs. I blessed this man and his kindness, for as he handed me down from the carriage, my legs were shaking. I was in a state of collapse as he took my arm and led me to the front door.

'What a lovely house. Have you someone to take care of you?'

As I was replying that I had, he took from his pocket a small sachet of powder.

'Our mother was a nurse before she married father, and as I suffered from violent headaches as a boy, this was her unfailing remedy, one I never travel without.'

I took it and thanked him once more for his generosity. Turning to leave he looked up at the impressive walls of the Tower and producing his card he smiled. 'Perhaps we might meet again and I would be permitted to call on you; we might have dinner and a theatre when you are feeling well again.'

Again I thanked him, barely able to speak, and frowning he said, 'I don't know your name, Miss ...?'

I gasped out, 'It's Mrs ... Mrs Rose McQuinn.'

He bowed. 'Oh, I do beg your pardon. I had not realised - I do apologise.' And most embarrassed, he regarded my ringless hand.

'There is no need. Mr McQuinn passed away some time ago,' I said. 'I shall not forget your kindness, sir.'

I walked towards the Tower with the resolution to wear my ring in future as well as improve my wardrobe, although these were the smallest of my problems.

Thane greeted me eagerly as I staggered into the kitchen, only wishing that his attributes included making a cup of tea. Drinking a glass of water as I swallowed the contents of the sachet, I noticed Jack's note still on the table. At a time when I needed him most, he was not here.

My legs felt too weak and shaky to carry me much further and I regarded the spiral staircase with dismay. Thane was watching me anxiously and rushed to my side. He knew what was required of him as I clung on to his shoulder and eased my way step by step to the bedroom.

The sight of the bed was enough. Removing my outer garments, I had no further strength but to drag extra blankets from the press and lie down. Thane sat upright close to the bedside, alert like a nurse watching over a sick patient.

I patted him and whispered, 'Take care of me.' My last sight of him, as my eyes closed, was that oddly almost-human expression.

I felt dreadful, sure that I was going to die this time, as the fever carried me back in wakeful nightmare seven years ago to the Indian reservation in Arizona where I had waited in vain for Danny's return. I had thought then that I would die. I survived, but not, alas, our infant son Daniel. Weak as I was, that bitter memory could still, as always, set the tears flowing.

I sobbed, helpless, conscious of Thane's huge paw on the coverlet, his head on a level with my own, his gaze like that of an anxious parent. He normally slept on his rug, his place by my bedside when Jack was absent. When we were together he retired to the kitchen with almost human feelings of delicacy about invading our privacy.

Grateful for his presence now, I drifted away once more in the darkening room, a voice inside my head repeating, 'Sleep and the fever will leave you - sleep.'

I have no idea how long I did just that, in a journey through nightmares and strange dreams, a tormented sleep. Once or twice I opened my eyes - Thane was still there; he had not moved. Asleep, his head now gently resting on the covers.

Once it was dark and I saw the stars gleaming through the window, then it was daylight, then darkness again. Still I slept, night came, and then one morning, which I later calculated must have been the third of my fever, I awoke feeling desperately hungry and thirsty.

Could I get out of bed? Was it too early and I too weak? I threw back the covers.

Thane had now retired to his rug; he sat up and watched me gulp down a glass of water, wagging his tail delightedly.

I smiled at him, patted his head and realised to my astonishment that I was feeling quite fit again. I had fully recovered. The fever had left me, not shaky and weak, but strong and completely restored.

As I walked downstairs, shadowed by Thane, my footsteps firm, I laughed. 'I'm well again, Thane. Isn't that amazing?'

He looked at me and seemed to smile with what in human terms could be described as indulgent satisfaction.

In that moment I guessed, or knew, the reason for my miraculously swift recovery. Thane. It was his voice I had heard, urging me to sleep; Thane, who miraculously had once again somehow acted as my protector. Strange magic indeed. I hugged Thane, whispered my thanks and set about boiling the kettle on that other miracle, a peat fire still smouldering after three days. Slowly I stirred into life. Bread, butter, eggs and cheese from the pantry, and my hunger appeased I noticed a note pushed through the front door.

From Jack, presumably delivered by one of his constables, while I lay inert upstairs. It was brief: 'Sorry about the delay. Be home tomorrow.'

Tomorrow? Had that been yesterday or was it today? Now with a sudden yearning for fresh air and the sunshine that caressed the world outside, I decided to ride down the road to Duddingston and report back to Mrs Lawers the dismal failure of my mission.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The day was surprisingly pleasant and mild as I rode past the loch, after my recent experiences of dour skies and rain in Lochandor and Tarnbrae. This was a day when October forgot its rightful place in the autumn calendar and made a last dash to be summer in disguise.

Much to my surprise there was a gathering outside Mrs Lawers' door, and as I parked with a premonition of disaster, her neighbour Amy Dodd, who had spoken to me earlier, ran swiftly to my side.

'What happened?' I gasped. 'Was it the influenza?'

Tearfully she shook her head. 'We don't know for sure. Mary assured me that they were on the mend as I'd been called away to Gullane to see my daughter. They've had an outbreak of the influenza there and I was anxious about the grandchildren. I stayed longer than I had intended. When I came back I went straight in to see how they were next door ...'

She paused and took a deep breath. 'And there they were, both lying there - Mary and Hinton - both of them ... Hinton had come back while I was away.' A sobbing breath. 'I knew at one glance ... and the smell of death. I've seen enough in my time - buried six bairns, I have. I knew they were dead. It was terrible. I went for the doctor, along the street there, and he came right away. Came out looking very grave, very white, and when I asked him what it was, if it was the influenza, he wasn't prepared to say more than that they had been dead for a while.'

She looked round and whispered, 'Now the police have been here, taken things away. I was sure I smelt gas when I found them both. I knew there would be trouble when Duddingston was linked up.'

As she shook her head, still suspicious of this new fad, I thought how much easier it made life for folks in Edinburgh - Jack had promised me my very first gas cooker once Solomon's Tower was on the circuit.

Amy was saying, 'We don't know what will happen, both alone in the world, neither with any family. No one to bury them.'

I thought of Mr Lawers, uncaring in Lochandor, as she went on, 'Hinton was devoted to Mary. Been with her since she was a young lass, more of a close friend than a maid.'

She looked at me anxiously. 'You'd better come inside, miss, not stand talking out here in the cold. You're not looking too well yourself.'

I was glad to follow her into the cottage, very similar to that of Mrs Lawers', in a row of ancient houses built more than two centuries ago.

Inviting me to sit down with a gesture, she said, 'Would you like a bowl of soup, just to warm you up?'

I accepted gladly. Food was scarce in Solomon's Tower when Jack was absent. Since I had been ill there had been no shopping and the pantry was almost empty.

The soup was delicious, and as I praised it, she nodded. 'Are you one of Mary's Edinburgh friends?'

'We are quite recently acquainted, so I didn't know her very well. I live along the road at Solomon's Tower.'

Amy smiled sadly. 'Mary's a lovely lady, and I'll miss her sorely, that I will. A good friend these four years. I felt quite honoured as I soon found out she doesn't abide neighbours. There's that Frenchie fellow on her other side; he's been here years and years but she's kept him at the door, wouldn't have anything to do with him. But so kind and friendly to me - we'd meet nearly every day 'cos we share the communal garden. Through there.' She pointed to the kitchen window. 'Mary's been getting too frail and rheumatic to do much any more and her dear Hinton was never good at gardening, so as I'm strong and willing, I do most of it now.'

'Tell me about the maid. What did she look like?'

Amy seemed to find this question curious but she said, 'She was quite small.' She looked at me. 'A bit like yourself, Mrs McQuinn, not very tall. I always thought she must have been right bonny when she was young, and although she had a club foot from birth, it didn't deter her. She was quite sprightly.'

Under five feet tall and a club foot didn't sound like the bogus Hinton who had taken her place. I wanted to know more, especially as I had being doing some rapid calculations that suggested the two women had already been dead when I made my second journey to Lochandor. I remembered that I had not seen Mrs Lawers, only heard that hoarse whisper from behind the door. I felt suddenly chilled at the realisation that while I stood outside the door, they were both lying dead inside.

Who then was pretending to be Mrs Lawers? There was only one answer - their killer.

'Did they have any visitors?'

'Not often. Mary liked to meet her friends in Edinburgh. She'd take a carriage, her "little luxury" she said, a nice change of scene and a bit of shopping.'