I did not like the new laird and he could tell.
I remembered him as a sour-faced boy and surly young man, who was cruel to his wee brother and bullied the local children, but I’d hoped his time away from North Berwick would have softened him. He’d got married, I’d heard, and I thought losing his father might have made him realize that riches meant nothing – that family was the most important thing.
But it seemed Gregor Kincaid as an adult was just as unpleasant as he’d been as a child.
He stood at the front of the meeting hall, chest puffed out, and I felt a prickling on the back of my neck that warned me not to trust him.
Gregor had only been the laird for a few weeks but he had big plans for the town. Plans he was outlining to the meeting.
‘The returns are impressive,’ he was saying.
‘Aye, for you,’ said Mackenzie White, tipping the brim of his hat back so he could look Gregor in the eye. ‘No for the town.’
‘That’s not true. Bringing larger ships into the harbour will put North Berwick on the map.’ Gregor threw his arms out wide, his enthusiasm obvious. ‘Making us a trading port with direct connections to the colonies will increase opportunities for everyone.’
‘We’d have to dredge the harbour,’ Mackenzie said. ‘Make it deeper.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And what about the fishermen?’
I sat up straighter. My husband John had been a fisherman. He’d run a fleet of boats from the harbour and when he’d died he’d bequeathed each boat to the men who’d worked for him. They had a trade and an income for life thanks to my John – as long as our town remained a fishing port.
‘Fishing could continue,’ Gregor said.
The prickling on my neck got stronger and I spoke. ‘You can’t run clippers and fishing boats from the same harbour,’ I said. ‘The fish won’t bite. The men would have to go north to Fife or even further.’
Gregor’s eyes fell on me, in my usual seat at the back of the room, and he raised an eyebrow in recognition.
‘Widow Seton,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘I believe the fishing would not be affected.’
‘You are wrong. Bringing tall ships into this harbour would change the town forever.’
‘She is right,’ Mackenzie said. ‘It’s one or the other. And fishing was here first. It gives us a good living and we would be fools to change it.’
There was a swell of murmuring in the room and Gregor cleared his throat for silence, giving me a small, mocking smile.
‘Why are you here at this meeting? It is for burgesses only, not women.’
I lifted my chin. ‘I am a burgess.’
Gregor laughed but his brother, Davey, touched his arm and nodded. I didn’t know Davey well either. I’d not seen much of either of them since they were boys. Like Gregor, Davey too had grown and left, but he’d returned before his father died, with his small son and tales of a wife who’d died tragically. The town gossips told me he had a fondness for playing card games and, penniless, had been forced to come home to North Berwick with his tail between his legs. I had no idea if it was true, but despite the stories, I thought Davey more worthy of respect than his boorish brother because I remembered him as quite a sweet-natured lad back when we were all young. His brother had always been a bully.
‘Widow Seton was left her position as burgess by her late husband,’ Davey explained now. ‘She has the same voting rights as the men.’
Gregor’s face went red. He turned to Mackenzie, who’d lowered his hat again. ‘You went along with this?’
Mackenzie just shrugged and I hid my smile. I knew the men would never question John bequeathing me my position in his will – that would mean questioning their own inheritance.
‘We should vote,’ Davey said. I suddenly had another memory of him as a child, forced to soothe the ill temper of his older brother. Poor Davey, having to make room in his life for this coarse, bad-mannered man. I caught his eye, hoping he knew I was behind him, and he smiled at me, showing me he appreciated my support.
‘All those in favour of dredging the harbour to accommodate large clippers and other ships,’ Gregor said.
A few hands were raised.
‘All those against?’
This time, there were many more hands raised – including my own.
Gregor snorted. ‘You will believe the insane ramblings of a woman over my own plans?’
There was silence.
‘Very well,’ Gregor said. His voice was light and casual but I felt a darkness descend over the room like a shadow and I shivered in the sudden chill. ‘I trust you all know the teachings of good John Knox about women holding positions of authority?’
The men all stared at him blankly. We all knew of John Knox’s beliefs, of course. He may have been dead and gone these last one hundred years, but his teachings lived on in the changes to our churches and our lives. And no more so than in the mistrust of women who rose above their station. I fixed my eyes on Gregor and he looked back.
‘Beware,’ he said. Was he talking to me personally? It felt that way. But then he looked around the room. ‘Be careful who you trust and who you follow. For witches come in many disguises.’
There was a gasp from the other council members and my heart lurched in fear. This didn’t sound like a warning. This sounded like a threat.