Page 51 of Who’s That Earl

And just like that, he realized exactly what he had overlooked. He understood, at last, how wise Scott had been.

Th’ canny auld bastart.

Yesterday, last night, he’d thought in terms of either-or. Either he left Dunnock, or Jane did. But, of course, there was another way. It had just taken him a little while to see it.

“I mean to do my duty by the people of Balisaig, Mr. Shaw,” he said, though he was still focused on Jane. “I intend to make Dunnock my home.”

It would be work, of course. But, God willing, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter 19

Late that night, snow began to fall. Jane stood at the window of her study, her forehead pressed to the cold, diamond-paned glass, and watched. Imagined it coating the roof of the manse, where Thomas, Mr. Campbell, and Mr. Abernathy were keeping watch over Mr. Donaldson. When the clergyman awoke, if he awoke, he would be imprisoned and tried. The story of what had happened must even now be flying through Balisaig like the snowflakes.

It was still falling in the morning when Mrs. Murdoch brought up the breakfast tray. Jane was sitting at her desk, the pages of The Brigand’s Captive spread before her. The almost preternatural hush that had fallen over the castle ought to have made it easy to work, but she found it quite impossible to pick up her penknife, sharpen a quill, and begin.

I intend to make Dunnock my home.

“Word came in the wee hours o’ the morning that Mr. Donaldson was awake,” the housekeeper said as soon as she crossed the threshold. “Mr. Sutherl—’is Lordship—has taken him on to the jail in Inverness.”

“This weather will delay his return.” What might have been the journey of a morning would take all day at least.

Agatha nodded. “He swore he’d be back tomorrow, no matter the snow.”

Tomorrow was February the second. Candlemas. The day the earl was to meet with his tenants and servants, pay salaries, collect rents, sign new leases.

“Where shall I leave this, ma’am?” The housekeeper’s gaze flitted over the desktop, looking for a place to put down her tray.

Jane waved the food away. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

I intend to make Dunnock my home.

“A cup o’ tea, then? You must take something, Mrs. Higginbotham. After what happened yesterday—”

“Very well,” Jane agreed, though she had no intention of drinking it. Anything to send Mrs. Murdoch on her way. “And please ask Dougan to bring up my trunks.”

“Your trunks, ma’am?”

She had been so worried about being forced to leave, she had forgotten she still had the power to choose. This time, it would be her choice to go. “I’ve delayed far too long already.”

Worry creased the elder woman’s lined face. “You’re leaving? But I had such hope that you and—”

“The tea, please, Mrs. Murdoch.” Jane’s voice was still hoarse. “And the trunks. That will be all.”

Quiet was said to be conducive to thought. She refused to let herself think, afraid she would second-guess herself.

She packed her clothes, leaving behind all her widow’s weeds and the bloodstained pelisse. When she started over—and she would start over—she would no longer be Mrs. Higginbotham. The dogs, who had no memory of any place that was not Dunnock, curled up on their cushions in front of the fireplace and sulked.

She packed her books without flipping through the pages, packed her papers without a second glance. When she reached her destination, she would write to Mr. Canfield and explain the delay in the delivery of the promised manuscript. She did not expect any complaint. Mr. Canfield could not afford to reprimand Robin Ratliff for tardiness.

By morning, everything was neatly ordered. Nothing remained but one leather-bound book, lying in the center of the desk. She gave a decisive nod, satisfied with her labors, and reached for the bell.

Even before she had rung it, Mrs. Murdoch appeared in the doorway. She took in the trunks and bandboxes with a disapproving glance, then thrust out a folded piece of parchment. “Lord Magnus asked me tae give you this.”

“He’s here?”

“Aye, ma’am. In the Great Hall.”

Jane looked about at her luggage, the otherwise empty room. “Did you tell him?”