“Some kind of what?” Graham prompted.
But I couldn’t answer. Because I’d found it.
A formal list of Order members and their positions dated 1715. The names were arranged in neat columns, each with a title beside it.
Knight: Margaret MacAlpine
Healer: Fiona Grant
Bookkeeper: Màiri Wright
Bookkeeper.
The word seemed to pulse on the page.
“Agnes?” Graham’s voice came from somewhere far away. “You’ve gone pale. What is it?”
“I...” I couldn’t form sentences. My brain was too busy exploding.
Bookkeeper. The Wrights had been Bookkeepers. As in … an official position in the Order of Caledonia, with a title and everything.
Of course they had.
But I couldn’t tell Graham. Not yet.
I still needed to process what that meant for me, but I was too tired and too on edge to react to this news just yet.
“Just a reference I need to follow up on,” I managed. “Can you check if there are any more membership lists from this era?”
He gave me a long look—he knew I was holding something back—but he didn’t push. Just nodded and returned to the cabinet.
The moment his back was turned, I photographed the page and kept reading, my hands trembling.
More lists. More family.Bookkeeper: Ailsa Mells. Bookkeeper: Isobel Wright.
Isobel.
And she was the last.
From 1745 and on the Bookkeeper position was blank.
Just ... empty.
What had happened between 1742 and 1745?
“I found more lists,” Graham said, returning with another stack. “And some correspondence that mentions—Agnes, are you okay? You look a bit panicked.”
“I’m fine.” I closed the ledger, perhaps too quickly. “Just tired. It’s a lot of information to process.”
He set down the new documents and studied my face with an intensity that made me want to squirm. “You found something.”
“I found a lot of somethings. That’s the nature of research.”
“Don’t start with me, Agnes. It’s clearly something you don’t want to tell me.”
Damn him for knowing me so well.
“It’s not that I don’twantto tell you,” I said carefully. “It’s that I need to understand it first. There’s no point sharing half a puzzle.”
