Page 54 of Walk on the Wildsyde

“It’s my father,” Clara said in dismay, realising the something special his temperance army had in mind tonight was to cause Hamilton trouble.

Hamilton didn’t answer at first, a frown between his eyebrows as he watched the street below.

“Yer da is here right enough, but it’s nae him leading the procession, Clara. It’s Malcolm.”

“What?” Clara hurried to the window, though Hamilton held her back, so she did not risk being seen. “Good heavens. Whatever is wrong with him?” she asked, for Malcolm was singing with more than simple enthusiasm, waving his arms and bellowing the words as he attempted to conduct with the flaming torch he carried. Indeed, many of the women carried such torches, singing with pride as the firelight touched their faces, lighting them up in the darkness. The hymn came to a rousing conclusion, and the reverend stepped hurriedly forward before Malcolm could launch into another song, which he seemed determined to do.

“Excellent, excellent,” her father said, beaming at the ladies before giving Malcolm a slightly wary smile. “Well done, Mr Stewart. Your fervour does you credit, but we must save our voices and move on if we are to walk our procession around the entire town tonight. Must not peak too early, eh?” he added, with a rather agitated laugh.

“Oh, no!” Malcolm cried, shaking his head fervently. “No, I can’t have that, for you and I both know that the devil has taken root in Wick, a serpent slithering beneath our feet, and his nest is right here, under your very nose. Did you not tell me yourself you wished to rout the demon from his lair?”

“Er…” Reverend Halliday glanced at Mrs Cameron, who raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Yes, well… whilst I denounce the opening of yet another tavern in this town, I fear… I fear I may have reacted rather too strongly. I have had time to reflect and—”

“And has the devil crawled under your skin too? Has he wheedled his way into your life and tempted you into sin?” Malcolm demanded, thrusting the torch towards her father, who took a hasty step backwards. “The sins of the flesh are just as evil as the sin of drunkenness, Reverend Halliday. Are they not, Mrs Cameron?”

Gasps and a few startled laughs echoed down the street and Clara watched in distress as her father merely stood with his mouth open while Mrs Cameron pushed past him.

“Ye mind yer tongue, ye nasty little whelp. I know what ye are and I’ve warned the reverend of yer sly ways. Why, ye never were the man yer brother was, Malcolm Stewart, and ye are a bedamned hypocrite, for I can smell the whisky on yer breath from here, and here ye are singing and carrying on like ye are one of us. Ye just wish to make trouble for Mr Anderson, for ye ken very well he has won Miss Halliday’s heart, and ye cannae stand it.”

“Oh, he’s won more than her heart, I fear,” Malcolm sniggered before raising his voice and shouting up at the windows where she stood with Hamilton. “Hasn’t he, Clara, dearest?”

Clara made a shocked sound, her knees suddenly weak as she realised Malcolm meant to ruin her, and was doing an excellent job as everyone was looking up at the building. Hamilton pushed her back.

“Ye will stay here,” he told her firmly. “Dinnae budge until I come for ye, nae matter what happens. Do ye promise me?”

Clara nodded, dazed and afraid of what this meant for her.

“Don’t fret, lassie,” Hamilton said, squeezing her hands. “I’ll nae let ye down, and we can be married before morning if it comes to it. They’ll be nae disgrace for ye, ye have my word.”

With those bracing words, he left her and hurried down the stairs.