Chapter 44

 

At The White Horse, Marjorie Livingstone was setting a tray of food on the table in the private parlour at the back of the inn where Catto was sitting. Her husband followed her in, carrying a jug of ale and two small pewter tankards.

Marjorie straightened up and raised a hand, dissuading Catto from trying to rise in response to her entering the room.

‘No need, Captain. I understand you’re still struggling a wee bit.’ Her eyes dropped to his feet, visible under the small dining table. ‘Forbye your ankle hardly looks swollen at all this morning.’

‘It’s a lot better,’ he told her. ‘I had a walk around the room earlier on. Leaning on your husband’s strong arm.’

‘If you’re not sick of the sight of me,’ Donald Livingstone said. ‘I thought you might like some company with your meridian, young Captain Catto.’

Catto looked up at him. ‘I’d appreciate that very much, Sergeant. Sit yourself down. As long as you won’t be run ragged serving your customers without his help, Mrs Livingstone.’

‘Dinna you worry aboot that, Captain. The lassie’s a hard worker and our Michael is going to give us a hand too. He’s just back from delivering your letter. We’ll move all this out of the way,’ she said, lifting an inkstand and some sheets of paper from the table onto a sideboard.

The other piece of furniture in the parlour was a daybed. Catto had slept there last night, cocooned in sheets, blankets and pillows. Marjorie had gently helped him take off his sword belt and sword without jolting his injured shoulder. Then, making him feel like a child again, the Livingstones had more or less tucked him in.

‘I should give Michael something.’

‘Well,’ Marjorie said easily, ‘I’ll no’ say he wouldna welcome a few pennies but you dinna need to. He was glad tae run an errand for you. Eat up, now.’

Catto and Livingstone ate and talked. They spoke briefly of what had happened the day before. They discussed the new arrangements which would have to be put in place up at the guard house after Catto left Edinburgh. The Lord President had accepted his suggestion that Sergeants Livingstone and Crichton and Archie Liddell should act up until a new captain of the Town Guard could be appointed.

Duncan Forbes had also spent last night here, in his case helped up the stairs to one of the bedchambers by Fergus Chisholm. Catto presumed Marjorie Livingstone had found a quiet corner for the manservant somewhere close by.

He and the Lord President had spoken yesterday evening and again this morning, discussing everything which needed to be discussed. He had pleaded his injury as a reason not to drink too much. He hadn’t drunk very much at all, in fact. For once, neither had Duncan Forbes.

He had assured Catto that those who had been involved in the Jacobite plot would be dealt with discreetly. Although it would be a long time till Arthur Menzies of Edmonstone came out of the Tolbooth. Culloden would summon Cosmo and Charlotte Liddell to come and see him, lay down the law. The freeing of the three young people would be presented to them as a fait accompli.

Other known Jacobites, including those Catto had uncovered, would be spoken to, and warned, told they were being watched. None were going to end their days on a scaffold. ‘Not this year, anyway,’ Culloden had said with bitter humour. Catto had no doubt he would be striking his hard bargains with all of them, ensuring their silence.

‘Can I hire Tam for tomorrow, Sergeant? I want to ride out to Colinton.’

‘You think you’ll be recovered enough?’

‘I’ll have to be. There are some documents I need to take there.’ The Lord President had signed those this morning. ‘Nor do I want to leave without saying farewell to Geordie.’

‘Or Tam,’ Livingstone offered.

Catto returned the sergeant’s smile. ‘Aye. Tam too.’

‘Geordie will miss you.’

‘I’ll miss him.’ Then, awkwardly: ‘There are other people I shall miss too. I’ve made some good friends here in Edinburgh.’

Livingstone inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘The feeling is entirely mutual, young Captain Catto. Which sentiment I’m sure holds true for Lieutenant Liddell, Sergeant Crichton and the rest of us. Let us hope our paths may cross again sometime.’

‘I would wish so too, Sergeant. Although I fear that can only be a forlorn hope.’

‘Who knows what the future holds? Let us wait and see. Not give up hope.’ Livingstone fixed him with his steady blue gaze. ‘There’s always hope.’

On their way to Eastfield to find Geordie, Catto and Livingstone had paused to allow their horses to drink from a burn. They had sat side-by-side, looking out to sea, watching the moon light up a silvery path through the dark waves.

True love never dies.

That was what Livingstone had said then. He did not say it again now. Nor had Christian Rankeillor’s name been mentioned. Catto could feel the sympathy all the same.

 

‘Can you read it, lads?’

Both boys looked up from the documents lying on the table in front of them. ‘I can read some o’ the words, Captain,’ Geordie said, ‘but I’m no’ just sure I understand what they mean when they’re all put together.’

Joshua nodded his head. ‘Aye. The same goes for me, sir.’

‘That’s not surprising. Lawyers write in their own particular way. I sometimes think they do it so the rest of us won’t understand what they mean. Gobbledygook, that’s what it’s called. There’s another good word for you, Geordie.’

He gestured towards the documents. ‘What it says is that the Liddells and Eastfield Colliery and Estate no longer have any claim over you or Alice, Geordie. Joshua, you are now a free man. You can go wherever you want to, be whoever you want to be.’

‘Free?’ Joshua asked. ‘They canna take us back?’

‘No. They’d be breaking the law if they did.’

‘And I’m no’ breaking the law as well?’ Geordie asked. ‘What with having run away frae them twice?’ He looked at Joshua. ‘Wi’ my friend’s help.’

‘You’re free, Geordie. And perfectly lawful.’

Both boys looked at him, quick tears springing to their eyes and a string of emotions racing across their faces. Until they jumped up out of their chairs. Wiping their tears away, they danced each other around the room, whooping and yelling with delight.