Читать книгу The Greatest Historical Novels & Stories of D. K. Broster - D. K. Broster - Страница 62

When the officer in charge of the party of redcoats, having set his men close round the house of Ardroy, went in person to demand admittance, it was no servant, out of whom he might have surprised information, who answered his peremptory knocking, but (doubtless to his annoyance) the châtelaine herself.

Captain Jackson, however, saluted civilly enough. “Mrs. Cameron, I think?” for, being English, he saw no reason to give those ridiculous courtesy titles to the wives of petty landowners.

“Yes, sir,” responded Alison with dignity. “I am Mrs. Cameron. I saw you from above, and, since I have no notion why you have come, I descended in order to find out.”

“If I may enter, madam, I will tell you why I have come,” responded the officer promptly.

“By all means enter,” said Alison with even more of stateliness (hoping he would not notice that she was still out of breath with haste) and, waiting while he gave an order or two, preceded him into the parlour. Captain Jackson then became aware that a small boy had somehow slipped to her side.

He took a careful look round the large room, and meanwhile Alison, studying his thin, sallow face, decided that she had never seen this officer before, and hoped, for the success of the plan, that neither had he ever seen Ewen. Behind him, through the open parlour door, she perceived her hall full of scarlet coats and white cross-belts and breeches.

“I am here, madam,” now said the invader, fixing her with a meaning glance, “as I think you can very well guess, in the King’s name, with a warrant to search this house, in which there is every reason to believe that the owner is sheltering a rebel.”

“Mr. Cameron is away, sir,” responded Alison. “How, therefore, can he be sheltering anyone?”

“Away?” exclaimed Captain Jackson suspiciously. “How is that? for he was certainly at home on Thursday!”

(‘The day of Doctor Kincaid’s visit,’ thought Alison. ‘Then he did give the alarm!’)

“Mr. Cameron was here on Thursday,” repeated Captain Jackson with emphasis.

“I did not deny it,” said Alison, beginning to be nettled at his tone. “Nevertheless he went away yesterday.”

“Whither?” was the next question rapped out at her. “Whither, and for what purpose?”

Alison’s own Highland temper began to rise now, and with the warming uprush came almost a belief in her own statement. “Does ‘the King’ really demand to know that, sir? He went to Inverness on affairs.”

By this time Captain Jackson had no doubt realised that he had to do with a lady of spirit. “Perhaps, then, madam,” he suggested, “Mr. Cameron deputed the task of hiding the rebel to you? I think you would do it well. I must search the house thoroughly. Are any of the rooms locked?”

“Yes, one,” said Lady Ardroy. “I will come with you and unlock it if you wish to see in.”

“No, you’ll stay where you are, madam, if you please,” retorted the soldier. “I will trouble you for your keys—all your keys. I do not wish to damage any of your property by breaking it open.”

Biting her lip, Alison went in silence to her writing-desk. Captain Jackson took the bunch without more ado, and a moment later Alison and her eldest son were alone . . . locked in.

And when she heard the key turned on her the colour came flooding into her face, and she stood very erect, tapping with one foot upon the floor, in no peaceable mood.

“Mother,” said Donald, tugging at her skirt, “the redcoat has not locked this door!” For Captain Jackson had either overlooked or chosen to disregard that, in the far corner of the room, which led into the kitchen domain.

Alison hesitated for a moment. No, better to stay here quietly, as if she had no cause for anxiety; and better not as yet to attempt to send another messenger to Slochd nan Eun who, by blundering, might draw on Doctor Cameron just the danger to be averted. So for twenty minutes or more she waited with Donald in the living-room, wondering, calculating, praying for patience, sometimes going to the windows and looking out, hearing now and then heavy footsteps about the house and all the sounds of a search which she knew would be fruitless, and picturing the havoc which the invaders were doubtless making of her household arrangements. Perhaps, in spite of Morag’s presence, they were frightening little Keith—a thought which nearly broke her resolution of staying where she was.

Yet, as the minutes ticked away with the slowly fading daylight outside, and nothing happened, her spirits began to rise. Ewen had evidently not been stopped; indeed, if he once got safely beyond the policies it was unlikely that he would be. He had probably reached Slochd nan Eun unmolested. Surely, too, he would remain there until the soldiers had gone altogether? And, feeling at last some security on that score, Alison sat down and took up a piece of sewing.

But she had not even threaded her needle before there was a stir and a trampling outside the house, and she jumped up and ran to the window. More soldiers . . . and someone in the midst of them, tightly held—her husband!

And in that moment Alison knew, and was ashamed of the knowledge, that she must at the bottom of her heart have been hoping that if anyone were captured . . . No, no, she had not hoped that! For Doctor Cameron’s life was in jeopardy, while nothing could happen to Ewen save unpleasantness. In expiation of that half-wish she braced herself to the dissimulation which Ewen had enjoined. She drew the boy beside her away from the window.

“The soldiers have caught your father, Donald, after all. Remember that you are to pretend not to know who he is, nor what he is doing here.”

The little boy nodded with bright eyes, and held her hand rather tightly.

“Will they do anything to me, Mother, for—saying what is not true?”

“No, darling, not this time. And if they take Father away to Fort William, it is only what he hopes they will do; and he will soon come back to us.”

By this time the door of the parlour was being unlocked, and in another moment Captain Jackson was striding into the room.

“Bring him in,” he commanded, half-turning, and the redcoats brought in a rather hot, dishevelled Ardroy, with a smear of blood down his chin, and with four soldiers, no less, holding him firmly by wrists and arms and shoulders. It was not difficult for Alison to show the agitation demanded; indeed there was for an instant the risk that it might exceed its legitimate bounds; but she had herself in hand again at once. Her husband gave her one glance and shook his head almost imperceptibly to show that he had not succeeded in his attempt. Then he looked away again and studied the antlers over the hearth while the sergeant in charge of him made his report, the gist of which was that the prisoner, coming unexpectedly upon them near the lake up there, had led them the devil of a chase; indeed, had he not tripped and fallen, he might have escaped them altogether.

“Tripped!” thought Alison scornfully—as if Ewen, with his perfect balance and his stag’s fleetness, ever tripped when he was running! He had thrown himself down for them to take, the fools! and that this really was the case she knew from the passing twitch of amusement at the corner of her husband’s bloodstained mouth. But, seeing him standing there in the power of the saighdearan dearga—oh, she wished he had not done it!

“Well, have you anything to say, ‘Mr. Sinclair’?” demanded Captain Jackson, planting himself in front of the prize. And at the mention of that name both Ewen and his wife knew for certain that they owed this visitation to Doctor Kincaid.

“Not to you, sir. But I should wish to offer my apologies to Lady Ardroy,” said Ewen, with an inclination of the head in Alison’s direction, “for bringing about an . . . an annoying incident in her house.”

Captain Jackson shrugged his shoulder. “Very polite of you, egad! But, in that case, why have come here in the first instance?” He moved away a little, got out a paper, and studied it. Then he looked up, frowning.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Does not your paper tell you that?” asked Ewen pleasantly.

Alison wondered if the officer thought that he was Lochdornie; but Lochdornie was, she believed, a man between fifty and sixty, and Doctor Cameron in the forties. Surely this officer could not take Ewen for either? Her heart began to lift a little. Captain Jackson, after looking, still with the frown, from Ewen to the paper, and from the paper to Ewen, suddenly folded it up and glared at her.

“Madam, who is this man?”

“If I have sheltered him, as you state, is it likely that I should tell you?” asked Alison quietly.

“Call the servants!” said Captain Jackson to a soldier near the door. “No, wait a moment!” He turned again and pointed at Donald, standing at his mother’s side, his eyes fixed on the captive, who, for his part, was now looking out of the window. “You, boy, do you know who this man is?”

“Must you drag in a small child——” began Alison indignantly.

“If you will not answer, yes,” retorted the Englishman. “And he is quite of an age to supplement your unwillingness, madam. Come, boy”—he advanced a little on Donald, “don’t be frightened; I am not going to hurt you. Just tell me now, have you ever seen this man before?”

The question appeared to Donald extremely amusing, and, since he was not at all frightened, but merely excited, he gave a little laugh.

“Oh yes, sir.”

“How often?”

His mother’s hand on his shoulder gave him a warning pressure. “I . . . I could not count.”

“Six times—seven times? More? He comes here often, then?”

Donald considered. One could not say that Father came here; he was here. “No, sir.”

“He does not come often, eh? How long has he been here this time?”

Donald, a little perplexed, glanced up at his mother. What was he to say to this? But Captain Jackson now took steps to prevent his receiving any more assistance from that source. He stretched out a hand.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Cameron! If you won’t speak you shan’t prompt either! Come here, boy.” He drew Donald, without roughness, away, and placed him more in the middle of the room, with his back to his mother. “Have you ever heard this gentleman called ‘Sinclair’?” he asked. “Now, tell the truth!”

Donald told it. “No, never!” he replied, shaking his golden head.

“I thought as much! Well now, my boy, I’ll make a guess at what you have heard him called, and you shall tell me if I guess right, eh?” And Captain Jackson, attempting heartiness, smiled somewhat sourly.

“I’ll not promise,” said the child cautiously.

“The young devil has been primed!” said the soldier under his breath. Then he shot his query at him as suddenly as possible. “His name is the same as yours—Cameron!”

Taken aback by this, Donald wrinkled his brows and said nothing.

“With ‘Doctor’ in front of it—‘Doctor Cameron’?” pursued the inquisitor. “Now, have I not guessed right?”

“Oh no, sir,” said Donald, relieved.

Ewen was no longer looking out of the window, and he was frowning more than Captain Jackson had frowned. He had never foreseen Donald’s being harried with questions. “Do you imagine,” he broke in suddenly, “that a man in my shoes is like to have his real name flung about in the hearing of a small child?”

Captain Jackson paid no heed to this remark. “Now, my boy, you can remember the name quite well if you choose, of that I’m sure. If you don’t choose . . .” He paused suggestively.

“Take your hand off that child’s shoulder!” commanded Ardroy in a voice so dangerous that, though he had not moved, his guards instinctively took a fresh grip of him.

“Oho!” said Captain Jackson, transferring his attention at once from the little boy, “is that where the wind blows from? This young mule is a relative of yours?”

“Is that the only reason a man may have for objecting to see a small child bullied?” asked Ewen hotly. “ ’Tis not the only one in Scotland, I assure you, whatever you English may feel about the matter.”

But Captain Jackson declined to follow this red herring. “It lies entirely with you, ‘Mr. Sinclair’, to prevent any further questioning.”

“No, it does not!” declared Ewen. “I have told you once, sir, that a man in my position does not have his real name cried to all the winds of heaven. Lady Ardroy herself is ignorant of it: she took me in knowing only that I was in need of rest and shelter. I do not wish her to learn it, lest Mr. Cameron, when he returns, be not best pleased to find whom she has been housing in his absence. But I will tell you my name at Fort William—if, indeed, your commanding officer there do not find it out first.”

This excursion into romance—a quite sudden inspiration on its author’s part—really shook Captain Jackson for a moment, since he was well aware that there were divisions, and sharp ones, among the Jacobites. Yet from Doctor Kincaid’s account Ewen Cameron himself, two days ago, had answered for ‘Mr. Sinclair’. As he stood undecided, enlightenment came to him from a most unexpected quarter.

“Father,” suddenly said a high, clear little voice, “Father, has you finded them?”

“What’s this?” The English officer swung round—indeed, every man in the room turned to look at the small figure which, quite unobserved, even by Alison, had strayed in through the open door. And before anyone had tried to stop him Keith had pattered forward and seized his father round the legs. “My comed down to look for mine deers,” he announced, smiling up at him. “Who is all these peoples?”

It was the last query about identity asked that evening. Ewen saw that the game was up, and, the soldiers who held him having, perhaps unconsciously, loosed their hold at this gentle and unexpected arrival, he stooped and caught up the wrecker of his gallant scheme. “No, my wee bird, I have not found your deers . . . I have been found myself,” he whispered, and could not keep a smile from the lips which touched that velvet cheek.

But the implications of this unlooked-for greeting had now burst upon Captain Jackson with shattering force. Half-inarticulate with rage, he strode forward and shook his fist in the prisoner’s face. “You . . . you liar! You are yourself Ewen Cameron!”

“Pray do not terrify this child also,” observed the culprit coolly, for Keithie, after one look at the angry soldier, had hidden his face on his father’s shoulder. “He is only three years old, and not worthy of your attentions!”

Captain Jackson fairly gibbered. “You think that you have fooled me—you and your lady there! You’ll soon find out at Fort William who is the fool! Put that child down!”

“Please make that red gentleman go away!” petitioned a small voice from the neighbourhood of Ardroy’s neck.

“That’s out of my power, I fear, my darling,” replied the young man. “And you had better go to Mother now.” Since, with the child in his arms, not a soldier seemed disposed to hinder him, he walked calmly across the room and put Keithie into Alison’s, whence he contemplated Captain Jackson with a severe and heavenly gaze.

“Well, now that this charming domestic interlude is over,” snapped that officer, “perhaps, sir, you will vouchsafe some explanation of your conduct in leading my men this dance, and in striving to hide your identity in your own house in this ridiculous fashion? ‘When Mr. Cameron returns’, forsooth!”

Again Ewen, usually a punctiliously truthful person, was inspired to a flight of imagination. “I admit that it was foolish of me,” he replied with every appearance of candour. “But I saw you and your men coming, and having been ‘out’, as you probably know, in the Forty-five, I thought it better to instruct my wife to say that I was from home, and left the house by a back window. I see now that I should have done better to show more courage, and to stay and face your visit out.”

During this explanation Captain Jackson, his hands behind his back, was regarding the self-styled coward very fixedly. “Do you think that you can gull me into believing that you led my men that chase because of anything you did six or seven years ago, Mr. Ewen Cameron? No; you were playing the decoy—and giving the man you are hiding here a chance to get away!”

Ardroy shrugged his shoulders. “Have it your own way, sir,” he said indifferently. “I know that a simple explanation of a natural action is seldom believed.”

“No, only by simpletons!” retorted Captain Jackson. “However, you can try its effect upon Lieutenant-Governor Leighton at Fort William, for to Fort William you will go, Mr. Cameron, without delay. And do not imagine that I shall accompany you; I have not finished looking for your friend from Caithness, and, when you are no longer here to draw the pursuit, it may be that I shall find him.”

It was true that Ewen had contemplated being taken to Fort William, but not exactly in his own character and upon his own account. This was a much less attractive prospect. However, there was no help for it, and the only thing that mattered was that Archie should get safely away. If only he could be certain that he had! Surely the MacMartins . . . His thoughts sped up to Slochd nan Eun.

“Take two file of men, sergeant,” said Captain Jackson, “and set out with Mr. Cameron at once. You can reach High Bridge by nightfall, and lie there.”

At that Alison came forward; she had put down Keithie and was holding him by the hand; he continued to regard the English officer with the same unmitigated disapproval. “Do you mean, sir, that you are sending my husband to Fort William at once—this very evening?”

“Yes, madam. I have really no choice,” replied the soldier, who appeared to have regained control of his temper. “But if he will give me his word of honour to go peaceably, and make no attempt to escape by the way, I need not order any harsh measures for the journey. Will you do that, Mr. Cameron?”

Ewen came back to his own situation, and to a longing to feel Keithie in his arms again for a moment. “Yes, sir, I pledge you my word as a gentleman to give no trouble on the road. Indeed, why should I?” he added. “I am innocent.”

“But if Mr. Cameron is to go at once,” objected Alison, “pray allow me time to put together a few necessaries for him, since however short a while he stays at Fort William he will need them.”

Instant departure was not so urgent that Captain Jackson could reasonably refuse this request. “Yes, you may do that, madam,” he replied a trifle stiffly, “provided that you are not more than a quarter of an hour about the business; otherwise the party may be benighted before they can reach High Bridge.” And he went quite civilly to hold the door for her.

As Alison passed her husband she looked at him hard with a question in her eyes; she wanted to be sure. Again he gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. She drew her brows together, and with a child on either side of her, the elder lagging and gazing half-frightened, half-admiringly, at his captive father, went out of the room. Captain Jackson did the same; but he left four men with muskets behind him.

Of these Ewen took no notice, but began walking slowly up and down the room dear to him by so many memories. Now that the moment of being taken from his home was upon him he did not like it. But he would soon be back, he told himself. How heavily would he be fined by the Government for this escapade? However little, it would mean a still harder struggle to make both ends meet. But no price was too high to pay for Archie’s life—or for Keithie’s. Both of them were tangled up somehow in this payment. He wondered too, with some uneasiness, how and why the redcoats whom he had allowed to capture him had been right up by Loch na h-Iolaire when he came upon them. Dhé! that had been a chase, too—he was young enough to have enjoyed it.

The door was opened again; there was Alison, with a little packet in her hand, and Captain Jackson behind her. “You can take leave of your wife, Mr. Cameron,” said he, motioning him to come to her at the door.

But only, it was evident, under his eyes and in his hearing. So nothing could be said about Archie; even Gaelic was not safe, for it was quite possible that the Englishman had picked up a few words. Under the officer’s eyes, then, Ardroy took his wife in his arms and kissed her.

“I shall not be away for long, my dear. God bless you. Kiss the boys for me.”

To Alison Cameron it seemed incredible that he was really being taken from her with so little warning, when only a couple of hours ago he had been in her room asking about Keithie’s lost toys. And, for all either of them yet knew, he might be sacrificing himself in vain. But she looked up into his eyes and said with meaning, “I will try to do all you wish while you are away,” a wifely utterance to which Captain Jackson could hardly take exception.

And three minutes later, with no more intimate leave-taking than that, she was at the window watching her husband being marched away under the beeches of the avenue with his little guard. Before he vanished from sight he turned and waved his hand, with the air of one who meant to be back ere any of their leaves had fluttered down.

“I am sorry for this, madam,” said the voice of Captain Jackson behind her. “But, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, Mr. Cameron has brought it upon himself. Now understand, if you please, that no one is to leave the house on any pretext; I have not finished here yet. But you are free to go about your ordinary occupations, and I’ll see that you are not molested—so long as my order is observed.”

For that Alison thanked him, and went upstairs to solace her loneliness by putting little Keith to bed. She had already tried to send Morag—the easiest to come at of the servants—up the brae, and had not found it feasible. And surely, surely Doctor Cameron must have taken the alarm by now and be away? Still, there was always her promise to Ewen—a promise which it began to seem impossible to carry out.