Page 5 of Devil Black

“My darling, I know you fancy yourself in love—”

“It is no fancy! I cannot go to MacNab!”

“I agree it will be difficult—”

“More than that, it is impossible. I am carrying Thomas’s child.”

That set Isobel back on her heels. She felt the breath rush from her lungs and a chill fill her limbs. “You cannot be. Catherine, you must be mistaken.”

“No. I believe it happened the first time we lay together, for my visitor has not arrived three months running,” Catherine confessed in a whisper. “I do not think there can be any mistake.”

“My God! What shall you do? Father will go wild. Nothing will keep him from flaying Thomas alive.”

“I will keep him from it! Listen to me, Issie. Thomas and I mean to run off together. We will go north, across the border to Gretna Green, and be wed. For weeks we have talked of it. We wish to wed anyhow. The babe will just force us to act more quickly than planned.”

“You cannot tell Father.” Gerald Maitland possessed a temper of considerable intensity. In truth, his daughters had inherited the trait, Isobel more so than Catherine. Gerald seldom unleashed his ire on his children, and when their mother was alive she had acted as a buffer between them. Yet a few incidents stood out in Isobel’s mind, youthful misdeeds Gerald had punished with a heavy hand.

And this—this was no small misdeed. Catherine might well lose her child before Gerald finished with her.

Isobel’s protective instincts rose in a rush. Catherine might be wrong in this, and mad to think she could get away with it, yet Isobel had to take her part.

“And what do you suppose you will do after you are wed?” she asked incredulously. “How will you live? Certainly there is no room in the Hewetts’ little cottage.”

“Thomas has written to his cousin in Bristol, who has just taken over his father’s shipping office and is in need of a clerk. It is a good opportunity and a real chance for us.”

“Bristol!” Isobel’s eyes widened. It might as well be the far side of the moon instead of the far side of the country. And yes, it might be a fine opportunity for Thomas, a rare one, but scarcely the station in life that Gerald Maitland demanded for his daughter. “And you think Father will accept that?”

“I think, by the time he catches up with us, it will be too late. Time will make it obvious I am carrying Thomas’s child. His anger will fade.”

It would not, Isobel knew, no more than had his grief over the loss of his wife and sons.

Catherine went on, her firm voice belying her desperate expression, “You see, this whole business of a match with MacNab has precipitated things. Thomas has been trying to save for the journey. We had hoped to go the month after next, when my condition became evident. But if Father insists I go to MacNab at once—”

“He does.” Isobel thought furiously. “The whole of your plan will fall apart, I fear, before you ever begin—unless we are very clever.”

Catherine’s eyes lit. “You have a plan?”

Isobel scowled. No more than a half plan struggled into formation in her mind. Suicidally dangerous, it nevertheless might just give Catherine time to be away and wed before Gerald Maitland even knew.

She put her head close to her sister’s. “Listen now to me—”

****

Some time later, Catherine Maitland took herself before her father with submissively bowed head and defiant eyes and agreed to travel to Scotland in order to become the wife of Bertram MacNab. Gerald Maitland should, perhaps, have been more suspicious about his daughter’s sudden acquiescence. But, preoccupied with matters of his estate, he proved well satisfied to have the matter settled.

“I am glad your sister succeeded in talking you round to a sensible point of view,” he declared. “This is a very good union that will see you well set for life. The situation in Scotland is, aye, unsettled at present, but I have faith decent landowners like MacNab will outlast the unrest and prevail against the rabble that presently infests the north.”

“Will you travel with me to Scotland, Father?” Catherine peered at him from beneath her lashes.

Sir Gerald grunted. “I regret I cannot. Affairs here demand my presence. But we will arrange a visit for the New Year, perhaps in the spring. By then you may have glad news to share with me. MacNab is very eager for an heir.”

“Yes, Father.” It was now October, and the idea of a six-month separation should have been devastating. Catherine tried to look crushed.

“As I say, Daughter, you will be in good hands. Your husband will inherit a significant holding in Central Scotland and is a favorite of the King. You should be grateful.”

“I do realize that, Father. When will I be sent?”

“You will leave a week hence. You must begin your preparations.”