CHAPTER 43 - A Picture of Grissell Hay

THE PORTRAIT SAT on the small table against a pile of books. In front of it lay the shrivelled bladder found in the mouth of Janet Cornfoot. From their chairs, MacKenzie and Scougall stared at both items. MacKenzie was thinking of a portrait of his wife Elizabeth in his lodgings in Edinburgh. He saw her sitting for the picture at The Hawthorns. Although it was a fine piece of work, it did not capture the essence of her. Art could never do that. In his mind’s eye he saw himself standing behind the painter, watching him work, admiring his wife’s beauty. How lucky he had been. By the time the portrait was finished she was pregnant with their daughter. She had wanted it hung in Libberton’s Wynd so that he might see her as he worked. A few months later she was dead. He had killed her. The thought opened up like a chasm within him.

‘Do you think there is something important about it, sir?’ Scougall’s question dragged him back to the matter at hand.

‘I am not sure, Davie. It seems like any other picture of a laird’s wife in her prime. She is dressed in a fine gown, she wears a pearl necklace. On the table beside her is a book which we cannot identify.’ He stood up and turned to Scougall. ‘But it has been given to us for a reason – everything has been planned by Grissell.’

Scougall turned his attention back to the picture. He was scared to look into the eyes for too long. He had heard so much about this woman. He wondered what she had been like in the flesh. It was quite possible she was a witch, but he kept this thought to himself.

‘I have sent word to Edinburgh about your discovery this afternoon. Dragoons should be in the parish tomorrow.’

‘What if your message does not get through to Edinburgh?’

‘We must hope that it does. If it does not, I will have to send you.’

Scougall hoped that they were not in danger. ‘Do you believe that a rebellion is planned soon, sir?’

‘It is possible, Davie.’ MacKenzie began to pace around the room, looking as grim as Scougall had ever seen him. At last he continued: ‘Helen Rammage has paid the ultimate price, as has her unborn child, the colonel’s bastard, if we are to believe her mother. The size of the boot at Clachdean Castle suggests that the colonel may have been at the Devil’s Pool on the day of Grissell’s death. It is also possible that Cockburn was there. Rankine, Muschet and Cant were in Lammersheugh attending the session. Purse was in Haddington. Lady Girnington could not get to the pool herself. We also have the pistol.’

‘What about the bladder?’ added Scougall.

‘What does it tell us?’ MacKenzie picked it up and tossed it to Scougall who caught it with a shudder. He could not think how they might link it to anyone.

‘Why was Helen Rammage killed?’ he asked, placing it beside the portrait.

‘I believe she was paid to be quiet, Davie.’

‘Margaret Rammage was paid to alter her delation.’

‘Yes. It would provide something for her children. She was perhaps resigned to her fate.’

‘It is also possible that Rosina is involved. She is close to Cant. Or is some other man, like Kincaid?’ Scougall looked puzzled.

‘Let us sleep on it, Davie. Tomorrow we must meet the elusive George Cockburn.’