Niall Campbell’s command to the hackney driver to move was sharper and louder than he’d intended. Both women flinched.
The carriage jerked into motion, but it was only able to proceed at a crawl, stopping often as they descended toward St. Giles’ Cathedral and Canongate. Outside the window, hordes of men and women were walking along, using High Street to escape the senseless, undisciplined actions of the yeomanry in the Grassmarket.
“Thank you.” Fiona leaned forward and laid her hand on his. “Thank you for going after my friend.”
Maisie Murray sat beside his sister. Her cheeks were aflame, and she’d avoided looking at him from the moment he climbed in after her. He knew she hadn’t been hurt, but her bloodstained and torn clothing gave her the look of someone who’d been badly handled by the mob. Her hair matched the disorder of her clothing; loose golden ringlets danced in every direction. He studied her face. She was young, much younger than his sister, Niall guessed. The perfect, symmetrical arrangement of her blue eyes, pert nose, and full lips suggested she’d have a line of suitors at her door, regardless of her rank in society.
Arriving just before the dragoons decided to get involved, he’d seen and heard her on the stage. It was rare for a woman to speak publicly but, in spite of a few hecklers, she commanded attention. Dressed all in white, she was a striking figure. She was beautiful, to be sure, but she also had a passion and a presence that came across strongly. For the few moments that she spoke, he’d stood at the edge of the crowd, entranced by her.
He shook off those thoughts and scowled at his sister. He knew of her interest in the reform movement. Fiona had a fierce dedication to causes. But today, she’d been a target of the authorities.
“What you’re doing is irresponsible. Reckless. Foolhardy. You are a mother, Fiona. You have a sacred responsibility. Did you give any thought whatsoever to what would happen to your children if you were arrested?”
“Speaking there today should not have presented any danger. That protest had been announced ahead of time and permissions were obtained. It’s not our fault that some half-witted rogues in uniform decided to interfere with a peaceful assembly.”
“Who granted these permissions?” Niall asked, feeling his anger grow. “Give me the name of the blackguard. Everyone knows that Parliament has made this kind of protest illegal.”
“I don’t know the name.” Fiona shot a hasty look at her friend. “The Safety Committee of the Weavers arranged it.”
“We were not the organizers.” For the first time, Maisie Murray lifted her face and looked him in the eye. “We were invited to speak. We assumed—”
“Assumed?” Niall leaned forward, pointing a finger at her. “You’ll not put my sister’s safety at risk based on an assumption.”
“Maisie is not at fault,” Fiona snapped. “Leave her be.”
Regardless of who was at fault, he wasn’t done with his reproaches. He’d have plenty to say to Fiona later. But Maisie, Niall didn’t know at all. He had no idea who her people were. Looking at her now, he doubted if they had any inkling of what she was involved in.
“Are you prepared to be a martyr, Miss Murray?”
“I am no martyr, but I believe in the cause we fight for.”
“Do you know what happens to people who get arrested for activities such as this?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “To begin with, they’re beaten and clubbed unmercifully. Tortured by the interrogators looking for evidence of conspiracies against the Crown. The fact that you are a woman will give you no protection. Actually, because you are a woman, the treatment you’ll take at the hands of brutish guards will be far more severe. Far more horrific.”
“I am well aware of it.” Her hands fisted in her lap, but she refused to cringe at his words.
“Do you know what the inside of a prison looks like?”
“I don’t.”
“They are foul places. In the best of them, rats run in and out of dank, dark cells. The air is unbreathable. The water tainted. Prisoners hold contests to count the number of maggots in their food. And women who are unfortunate enough to be incarcerated…” Niall paused and leaned forward. “Women are denied the most basic need for privacy. Denied any vestige of human dignity.”
Before he could continue, Fiona took his hand, forcing his attention back to her. Niall understood. In her own silent way, she was admonishing him for his harshness.
“I’m having a conversation with Miss Murray.”
“You’re lecturing, Lieutenant Campbell,” Fiona said. “And you’ve succeeded. I’m frightened enough for both of us.”
“I only wish that were true.”
Niall loved his sister, and she knew it. He was worried about her, and she knew that too. He wanted her to give up her radical ways. But she’d told him many times that as long as the value of a woman in their society was based on the amount of hard usage she could endure, she would continue to fight.
“To be honest, I was so surprised and pleased to find you attending the protest.” Fiona put on a cheerful tone. “Imagine that, Maisie. An officer of the 42nd Royal Highlander Regiment, a decorated war hero, joining the radicals—”
“No longer a commissioned officer,” he interrupted. “And before you indulge in any more flights of fancy, I wasn’t there of my own free will. I was sent by your mother-in-law.”
Fiona’s face immediately grew pale. “Is anything wrong with Catriona and Briana?”
Niall fought the inclination to hesitate. He couldn’t torture his sister. He knew full well that those two children were the most precious things in Fiona’s life.
“Your daughters are fine. Some gossiping friend of Mrs. Johnston has a relative in the constabulary. The woman had heard the authorities were planning something today. As soon as I arrived to pay a call on my nieces, she begged me to come and get you.”
Niall hadn’t needed any convincing. He already knew there was trouble in the wind. Dining with a former commander in the officers’ mess last night, he’d heard a militia captain at the next table crowing that they’d all been too soft with “these blasted, treasonous radicals,” but that was about to end. He didn’t know Fiona was going to be at the center of it, however.
Hurrying toward the Grassmarket, he’d seen the lines of cavalry filing down from the castle. They wore the expressions of fresh recruits itching for a fight. That was the reason he’d hired a hackney carriage and had it waiting. In the end, luckily, Fiona hadn’t needed saving. She was already safely off the platform and on her way out of the Grassmarket when he caught up to her. But she’d pleaded with him to go back for her friend.
He turned his attention to Maisie. She was staring out the carriage window, pretending she wasn’t part of the conversation.
“Is it possible someone could be searching for you now, Miss Murray?”
Her blue eyes flitted toward Fiona before returning to him. “My family has little involvement with my activities, Lieutenant.”
“Activities?” he repeated. “Shopping for a ribbon for your hat is an activity. Taking a stroll in the park is an activity. Browsing for a novel in a bookshop is also an activity. Do you actually consider speaking at a protest rally such as this one simply another activity?”
Two red spots blossomed on her cheeks, and she jerked her head toward the window. “I’d be grateful if you’d ask the driver to stop. I need to get out here.”
He looked outside. The carriage was working its way slowly through the intersection at South Bridge. The Tron Church glowed in the sunlight, along with the ever-present vendors hawking their wares to the crowds passing by. “Were my questions too difficult?”
“No, but I really need to get out.” She slid to the edge of the seat and was about to call to the driver herself, but he did it for her.
Niall had been a soldier for all of his adult life. Hurting a young woman’s delicate feelings was of little concern to him. Other things took precedence. He’d seen enough men transform into ravenous beasts when they recognized the weakness of an opponent, particularly when the opponent was a woman. He’d witnessed vicious abuses by those in power, and unchecked violence in men serving them. There was a reason why he resigned his commission at such an early age, regardless of the coaxing from his superiors to remain.
As the carriage stopped, he climbed out to assist her. The street was busy, and he glanced around at the traffic of the bustling city. The two women inside exchanged a few hushed words, and then she placed her fingers in his hand and stepped out.
Maisie looked to her right and left and withdrew her hand. The disarray of her clothing took nothing away from her attractiveness. She was a beautiful woman, and for the first time since he’d gone to her aid, he realized he was staring. He could find nothing wrong in the arrangement of her face or anything else. He forced himself to focus on her eyes as they met his. They had the deep blue color of the Mediterranean on a clear morning. They looked like a matched pair of precious jewels, framed by the long lashes.
“From your clothing, Miss Murray, your family will definitely think your activities include brawling in the street. Where do you live? Allow me to escort you home.”
She shook her head with the hint of a smile. “You’ve done more than enough for me today, Lieutenant Campbell. I’m extremely grateful to you. But I don’t have far to go.”
Before he could say anything more, she turned away and moved easily into the throng of people traveling down South Bridge.
Niall waited, staring after her until he realized his sister was calling to him. Ordering the driver to continue on, he climbed in.
“She is not weak nor fragile,” Fiona said as he settled into the seat across from her. “Ignore her petite size and bonnie face. Maisie Murray has a strong, quick mind and more iron in her character than any young woman I know. She’s quite independent.”
Obviously, he thought. He couldn’t imagine any other woman, aside from his sister, standing on that platform today.
“Your chivalrous nature might be demanding that you save her from what we do, but I’m telling you that you’re wasting your time.”
Niall let out a frustrated breath and frowned at his sister. “Where did you find her?”
“We found each other.”
“How involved is she in this radical business?”
“She founded the Edinburgh Female Reform Society with me.”
Blast. Because Fiona’s mother-in-law lived with her, helping with his nieces and loving them all as her own, Niall’s sister was free to go and do as she pleased. His mistaken impression of his sister’s activism was that it was limited to circulating pamphlets and petitioning amongst women to raise funds for her causes. Today’s protest and her involvement opened his eyes to the real dangers. And that went for Miss Maisie Murray too.
“What exactly does the Edinburgh Female Reform Society do?”
“Our task is to spread democratic ideals amongst the women of the city. Chapters are forming throughout Scotland and England.” Fiona’s eyes flashed. “In Manchester, the first week after the formation of the Society, a thousand members joined. In Edinburgh, we have over two hundred members now, and we’re growing every day.”
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Fiona’s enthusiasm only added to his worry. He understood their cause. He believed in the need for change. But he wished someone else’s sister were leading the charge, and not his. He was far too familiar with the hard fists of those in power. The government had no qualms about crushing anyone who tested their authority. He’d seen it most recently in Ireland.
“I must ask you this directly. Is your group militant?”
“Militant?” Her eyes rounded. She stared at him as if he had two heads. “Why would you ask such a thing? We’re women.”
He was only somewhat relieved by her answer. Niall didn’t want to tell her of all the women he’d seen fighting in the fields and villages of France and in the Highlands. Women who had no trouble putting a knife in a soldier’s back or a bullet in his head to protect loved ones. Operating from their barracks outside of Cork City, his regiment had been given orders to kill Irish rebels, regardless of their gender or age. That had been the end of it for him. Even now, lying in bed at night, he tried to clear his thoughts of the brutality he’d walked away from.
The greater tragedy now lay in the fact that peaceful protestors were exposed to the same violence. The stronger the reform movement got, the more ruthless the government was becoming.
“We get together to discuss the issues,” Fiona continued. “Maisie and I are committed to a peaceful campaign. We circulate informational pamphlets. We meet mainly in drawing rooms and speak at smaller public meetings.”
He arched an eyebrow. “But the two of you were on that platform today.”
“We were there by the invitation. We didn’t think that violence would occur.”
The time for lecturing was behind them. There was nothing Niall could say now that he hadn’t said to his sister before. She, at least, had a vulnerable side. Deep down, she worried about her daughters.
Fiona shifted the reticule on her lap, sighing when she realized she was holding a second one, as well. She glanced back in the direction her friend had gone. Niall guessed the bag belonged to Maisie.
“How does your friend’s family really feel about her ‘activities,’ as she calls them?”
“They don’t know. I believe they have no idea.”
Unto His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent
From the hand of The Right Honorable, The Viscount Sidmouth
Sir,
I cannot begin this report of our activities at the Home Office without first extending my thanks to you for graciously mentioning this humble and loyal servant in your recent remarks. As you know, I have been honored to serve you and your family (and indeed, this magnificent realm) for my entire career—as Prime Minister, as Lord Privy Seal, as Lord of the Council, and as Home Secretary. I shall continue to endeavor to serve you faithfully for as long as I am able.
With regard to the affairs of state—acting upon your resolve that we take action to quell seditious activities in the realm, I have taken it upon myself to dispatch Sir Rupert Burney from the Home Office to the north.
As we have discussed previously, various low and vile persons are forming groups intended to stir up the population against the government. As Sir Rupert has been doing in the cities of England, he will create in Scotland—beginning with Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Inverness—an organization that will gather information and expose your enemies.
We shall leave no stone unturned in our efforts to secure the kingdom and make radicals and so-called reformers feel the full weight of the law. The fate of the monarchy in France will not be repeated here on our fair shores. The unwashed and uneducated mob will not force their hereditary leaders to give up their rightful place as rulers of the realm.
I shall keep you informed as to Sir Rupert’s activities and our progress in the days to come.
I remain, Sir,
Your Most Obedient Servant