For two days, Maisie kept mostly to her room, sitting by the window, scanning the wet, windswept March street for some sign of Niall. For two nights, wrapped in a blanket, she kept her vigil there as well, praying to see him come to their door.
Downstairs, the household was in a constant state of chaos. Whereas Archibald’s meetings with the weavers and other radical groups were occasional, men were now coming to the garden door nightly. During the day, he was often away from the clinic, off to unspecified events. Isabella worked tirelessly with the students from the university at her side, seeing to her patients, as well as to her husband’s.
No one asked why it was that Maisie kept to her room. She was home, out of sight, out of mind. That was enough. And it suited her, for she was in no state to be sociable, and she was not about to pour out her troubles to anyone in the family.
She was responsible for Fiona’s arrest. If only Maisie hadn’t gone to her house in the afternoon. If only she hadn’t tempted her to come along. If only. The thought of how different the night could have ended was constantly on her mind. After going to Niall’s apartment, she’d discovered that all the flyers, the letter, the newspaper article had all been stuffed into Fiona’s satchel and not hers. Her friend had been taken with enough proof to justify the arrest. She’d told Niall all of this.
The promise she’d made to him weighed heavily on her. She felt guilty hiding herself away while it was quite likely that her friend was being subjected to unimaginable abuse at the hands of her captors. And what of Fiona’s daughters? She had no idea where they were. Niall said he’d take care of things, but no word from him had arrived, and she feared the worst.
Finally, on Friday afternoon, a rider descended from his steed and handed the reins to a neighborhood urchin to hold for him.
Niall.
Maisie’s feet barely touched the floor as she flew to the stairway and down to the foyer. She reached the front door at the same time that a manservant arrived to open it. When he looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise, she took a breath and nodded for him to proceed.
Niall stood in the open doorway. His eyes were red, and a growth of whiskers covered his jaw. He looked weary, as if he hadn’t slept since she last saw him.
He came in, removed his hat, and waved off the servant, who was waiting to take his coat.
“I can’t stay but a minute,” he said in explanation.
Maisie gestured to an open door beyond the examining rooms. “Come into the drawing room.”
She left the door slightly ajar for the sake of propriety, but Maisie didn’t care who might walk in on them. Her arms were around him as soon as they were alone.
“Thank God, you’re all right. Tell me. Tell me that you’ve found her.”
His lips pressed into Maisie’s hair, and he held her in the circle of his arms for the longest time before finally letting go.
“Not yet.” With a deep frown marking his face, he stalked to the far side of the room.
She tried to think of the names of the places where some of Archibald’s friends had been held. She pressed a fist into her stomach as she recalled the condition some of the prisoners were in when they arrived here. “Bridewell?”
He shook his head. “She’s not there. I’ve spoken to everyone I could, even the governor of the prison. All I’ve been able to ascertain are two things. Fiona was arrested, and they’re holding her somewhere away from Edinburgh.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” He slammed his fist into the other hand. “I’m on my way to Glasgow now. I have an idea that someone there might be able to shed some light on it.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t be involved in this.”
Tears burned the back of her throat, but she fought them back. Not involved? How could she possibly not be involved? Guilt threatened to tear her apart. Everything was her fault. From the first moment when the two women had met, they’d walked this path step for step. The campaigns, the protests, the meetings, encouraging women to rise up and speak out. But when it came to facing those wolves, she’d handed her friend over to them. Fiona’s arrest was all her doing. Maisie glanced at Niall. She wanted him to say something to ease her guilt, but he couldn’t. No one could. Her actions were hers to bear.
“What can I do? How can I help?” She took a step toward him. “I can go and stay with Mrs. Johnston and the girls.”
His gaze caressed her face. “They’ve already left the city. I arranged for them to go to the west, into the Highlands. They’ll stay with an aunt of ours on the coast.”
That meant that he wasn’t expecting Fiona to be released anytime soon. Maisie hugged herself around the middle. There were words she wanted to say. Apologies she felt compelled to make. Forgiveness that she needed. But she was afraid to speak as grief and guilt tore at her heart. He’d warned them about this. Niall had repeatedly told them that they could be in danger. They’d ignored him. They assumed their words weren’t important enough to draw the notice of the authorities.
But what was haunting her was why Fiona should be the one who was arrested and not her? She’d have gladly switched places.
Niall tapped the brim of his hat and glanced at the door. She heard footsteps in the hall. Someone was coming.
“I need to go, but will you keep your promise?”
Maisie knew what he meant. The promise to remain here, hidden. What other choice did she have? She bit her lip and tasted the saltiness of tears and nodded. “I will.”
The door of the drawing room was pushed open none too gently and Archibald walked in. From the dark expression on his face, Maisie guessed her brother-in-law was not pleased.
“Good day to you, Miss Murray. Dr. Drummond.” Niall bowed and went out, unaware of Archibald’s hostile demeanor. Or ignoring it.
Maisie felt her heart lurch as she heard the front door open and close. She rushed to the window behind a writing desk and pressed her palm against the cold pane of glass, watching for a last glimpse of Niall as he rode away.
When he left the room, he looked like a man marching toward a hopeless battle, looking defeat in the face, but willing to meet his fate with grim determination. Maisie wanted to run after him and remind him of all he meant to her. If there was anyone who could rescue Fiona from the shackles that bound her now, it was Niall. They all believed in him.
“Pray, bring her back.” Her words were a whisper, intended for no one but him.
The door behind her slammed shut, but she knew she wasn’t alone. Archibald had come in here to rebuke her, scold her as if she were a wayward child, and she willed herself to receive it in her customary manner of patience and silent fortitude.
“My directions were absolute. You will not disobey me in my own house.”
His sharp tone shattered her intentions. She couldn’t take it any longer. As she pushed away from the window, every fiber of her being strained against her self-control. The spirit of rebellion fought to break the chains she’d worn for too long.
“Stop.” She whirled and glared at her brother-in-law. “Stop this right now. Spare me your lecture. I can’t bear it!”
“You’ll not speak to me like that.”
“Like what?” she cried, moving to the desk. Anger rose like a phoenix from her grief. “What kind of doctor are you? Are you completely blind to suffering?”
He looked as if she’d slapped him. He recovered quickly, though, and his eyes narrowed. “I have no time to listen to the dramatic ranting of a willful young woman who thinks she should be at the center of everyone’s attention.”
“If you only knew me, you’d never think so ill of me.”
“I know you. You’ve lived beneath my roof for six years.”
“Six years of living in a house where I receive less respect than the dirt beneath your feet. Six years of callous indifference to whether I am alive or dead.” She planted her hands on the desk, and the words burst out of her. “You know nothing, Dr. Drummond. Nothing about me. Nothing about that man who just left us.”
“You wear your self-indulgent air of injury well, I must say,” he snapped. “But I told you that I’ll not allow you to see Lieutenant Campbell. And yet here he is, in my own drawing room, in spite of my expressed wishes. If you only had half the wit that your sister has, you’d see that bringing him here … that bringing him here…”
“Endangers you? Endangers the entire family? Endangers the men who come to this house every night through the kitchen?”
“Keep your voice down. What do you know of my business?”
“I know everything about you. Your involvement in the reform movement. I know who the men are that come here. I can tell you every one of their names. I know who these poor souls are that are carried into this house through the garden door to be tended to after being interrogated.”
“This is not a game. Which of your foolish friends have you told?” He grew pale. “Have you breathed even one word of this to that man? So help me God, if this—”
“You see? You know nothing.” She slapped her hand on the table. “You don’t know who I am. Or what I do. You don’t even know that I stood on that same platform with your precious weavers. I spoke at the rally in the Grassmarket. You don’t even know that we’re allies in this cause.”
He stared at her, suddenly at a loss for words.
“You will never again talk down to me or tell me that what I say is dramatic ranting. You are not the only one who sees and recognizes injustice. You are not the only one who acts against it. I have been out there in the streets, promoting the same reforms that you and your friends talk about here in your shuttered office.”
For a long moment, he gaped at her. Maisie thought he’d forgotten how to speak.
“Who are you?” Archibald shook his head, a perplexed look on his face.
Maisie knew this was the time to unload the weight that threatened to crush her, heart and soul.
“The Female Reform Society in Edinburgh,” she continued. “Lieutenant Campbell’s sister, Fiona Johnston, and I founded that society here. We now have more than four hundred members, and we’re growing. And don’t you dare think or insinuate that what I do or what I fight for is insignificant.”
Anger had fired up the blood in her veins. The tears threatened to fall, but she wouldn’t allow them. Not while she was in this room. Maisie marched toward the door, but her heart was broken. Finally, she’d told him the truth of what she’d been doing, but it was only a half-truth now, after what happened to Fiona.
“Wait. Speak to me.” Archibald’s voice made her pause.
Maisie wanted to keep going. She wanted to tell him that whatever he had to say, it was too late. But a sliver of hope edged into her. Perhaps he could help. Archibald Drummond had been an activist for all of his adult life. He had to have a clear view of the dangers and how to survive them. His fellow reformers had been taken and held. He knew what to expect. Perhaps he had some idea of what to do now. Perhaps, she thought, he had connections that could be of help to Fiona.
She slowly turned around and pressed her back to the door. Archibald’s face showed a change in him. His eyes were wide open. He looked like a man who’d just woken up after a long sleep.
“How long have you been involved in this?”
“Quite a while.” Maisie told him everything, about the rallies, about her writing, about her belief that women needed to be represented and enfranchised with the vote. “I attended my first protest when I was sixteen. It was on Glasgow Green.”
“Wait. I took you to Glasgow that week. You and Isabella and Morrigan were with me. I told you all to stay at the inn and not leave.”
She shrugged. “A great many people were heading in the direction of the protest. I had to go.”
“Forty thousand of them.”
“They were demanding a more representative government. An end to the Corn Laws.”
“It was the first time we’d really organized the handloom weavers there. They showed up in large numbers.”
“I was young, but even then I could see the hardship people were enduring.” She walked back into the center of the room. “The ‘relief centers’ the authorities had opened were nothing but a sham. Something to trumpet about.”
“And that was the beginning of the present government’s policy of harassment and entrapment,” Archibald continued. “That was when they began to try reformers for conspiracy and sedition.”
He sat on a chair as if his knees were suddenly incapable of holding his weight. “When did you start the Female Reform Society?”
“It was the Peterloo massacre that did it. Fiona and I decided after attending the memorial rally in Paisley in September.”
“You were in Paisley?”
She nodded.
“Amidst the rioting? The militia was called in.”
“We survived it.”
He ran a hand down his face, looking at Maisie again. “How did I not know? What a fool I’ve been about you.”
Maisie agreed, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. They’d appeared to reach a truce, and right now she needed his help.
Archibald gestured toward the door. “What was that about? The lieutenant’s visit. Your teary-eyed farewell.”
She took out a deep breath and tried to keep her emotions intact. Sitting on a chair facing him, she told him how Fiona had been arrested two days ago. He listened carefully to every detail that she recalled and to what Niall had revealed a few minutes ago.
“His sister.” He pushed to his feet. “That could as easily have been you they arrested.”
“It should have been me.” Guilt nudged at her once again.
“Campbell is, or was, an officer in the 42nd Royal Highlanders.” His somber expression reflected the gravity of the situation. “And he could get no answers as to where they’re holding her.”
“As you say, he was a member of that regiment. But no more.”
Archibald massaged his neck as he paced the room, thinking it over. Maisie watched him, realizing his attitude had changed. No disrespect. No questioning her motives. He accepted her. He understood. And for the first time in her life, she recognized why her sister had such respect for her husband. He was a good man, willing to shift his opinion when the facts warranted it.
She decided at that moment to tell him about Niall’s offer of marriage, as well. “There’s something else.”
He listened as she told him.
“I see.” He ground a fist into his other hand. “I’m sorry that your plans have been so disrupted.”
“Our lives are not our own until Fiona is free.”
He nodded, seeming to understand.
“Let me ask some questions of people I know. See if any of them have heard or can learn anything about where your friend might have been taken.” He paused in front of Maisie. “Let’s say nothing of any of this to your sister. Isabella is worried enough about my involvement. It might be too great a shock if she were to know there are two radicals in her family.”