The Lost Treasure of Lorne

Chapter Six

If Caitlin had not been sitting, she would have fallen. She had been pale when Michael saw her in the hallway, and as she told the barbarous tale, all colour had drained from her face, leaving in high relief the few pale freckles remaining from the constellations that had starred her face when she first arrived in Edinburgh.

What worried Michael most was that his prickly bossy housekeeper would not meet his eyes, but sat looking down into her lap, where her clasped hands showed white knuckles.

Michael covered her hands with one of his. "Caitlin? You know we will not think the less of you whatever you tell us."

She did not push his comforting hand away, which he counted a gain, but nor did she look at him. Instead, she answered John. "You are not the only Lorimer of Lorne, John. My real name is Caitlin Morag Lorimer. You and I are the last two, and we are the only ones who can find the lost treasure and save the ghosts of Castle Lorne."

Now she looked at Michael, and Michael looked back, blankly. His enemy's granddaughter. When Lorne's men had come several days after Caitlin's arrival eighteen years ago, he thought they were after the baby. He had hidden John out of town, in a friend's remote hunting lodge, leaving Caitlin to care for him, telling no one. And just as well, too, for Lorne's men had searched everywhere and questioned everyone. John shook off the memory of a dark room and pain, and a closer brush with death than he cared to consider. In the end, his friends had found him, and Lorne had never found John; had clearly decided the baby had never reached Edinburgh.

And all along the man had also been looking for his granddaughter whom Michael had been hiding unknowing.

Dimly, through the deluge of emotions, he noted Caitlin's pallor had increased, which he had not thought possible, and her lovely eyes held quiet despair. Thank God his shock had frozen him, for the first reaction was past and he had not pulled away. He gave her hands a squeeze.

"We owe you even more than I realised, Caitlin. You gave up everything to save John." His voice was steady, if his heart wasn't. His enemy's granddaughter! The heir killed had been her father, and Michael himself had killed her uncle when escaping from the man's torture.

The colour returned then, flooding her face, and she blinked away tears. "Not as much as you might think." She smiled at John; a weak effort, but still a smile. "And I had John."

And me, Michael wanted to say, but he held his tongue while John hugged her and then scolded her, "Why did you not tell us, Morgie? Did you think we would stop loving you?" A grin spread across his face as the knowledge sunk in. "You are my cousin. Father, Morgie is my cousin." He hugged her again.

"I was your mother's cousin, John, and am yours," Caitlin confirmed.

John had more questions; was near bursting with them. But he stopped with his mouth open to speak; focusing into the empty space over Caitlin's shoulder, closing his mouth and turning his head as if tracking movement across the room.

"They're here?" Michael asked. "The ghosts?"

"Some of them," Caitlin agreed. "Reminding us that time is running out. We must solve the mystery by the end of this month. John's birthday."

"Right." John crossed the room to fetch his writing desk and Caitlin cleared a space for it on the table. "Let's make a plan. Father, you have been searching whenever we came to Castle Lorne for the past three years. Where should we start?"

"Not for the lost treasure," Michael objected. "I was looking for– something else."

John stopped in the act of trimming his quill. "I always assumed– but if not the lost treasure, what?"

"Proof of my marriage, John. You know you are my legitimate heir here in Scotland, and in any case will have anything of mine that is not entailed. But that b–" Michael caught back the word; the old bastard was Caitlin's grandfather and he'd not upset her for the world. "The Marquis of Lorne destroyed the records and bribed or threatened the witnesses so the marriage would not stand in England. He claimed that Fiona's father—your grandfather—had not given consent. She was of age in Scotland, but not in England, and without his consent the marriage did not stand. Not in England."

"But my grandfather could give him the lie."

"If he'd lived to see what Lorne did. Your grandfather was sick with consumption, John, but when Fiona wrote to him to tell him we had wed, he sent a letter giving his blessing. She wanted to see him one more time, and with peace between the families, as we thought, there seemed no harm in it. I got leave to take her to Glennevis, but he was dying then and I had only four days. Fiona wanted to stay. I should never have left her, John."

"You could not have known," Caitlin assured him. "And she does not blame you, Michael."

"Is that my mother, Morgie? The one patting Father's shoulder?"

Caitlin nodded. Michael managed not to flinch away from the touch he could not perceive. "Waving goodbye to me as I left her at Glennevis was the last time I saw her alive, my sweet Fiona. I guessed, of course, that Lorne had her. As soon as I heard Stuart Lorimer was dead, I rode for Glennevis, but I was too late. Lorne had taken her, but he kept her hidden and while I hunted for her, someone burnt down the little kirk where we'd made our vows."

"But if the records are gone, and the letter is gone..." John protested.

Michael didn't wait for him to finish. "Fiona had the proof. She smuggled a letter out to me, from one of the places Lorne kept her while he was wiping out all record of our marriage. She told me to come to Castle Lorne once it was safe, and to ask one of the women of the family to show me the secret hiding place that only the women knew."

"Caitlin is a woman of the family," John pointed out, but Caitlin was shaking her head.

"I left Castle Lorne when I was thirteen. I never learned the secret."

"It is somewhere here," Michael insisted. "A silver casket containing our marriage lines and letters from both our fathers. She said to ask her great aunt, but I could not come near, and the old lady was six years in her grave by the time Lorne died."

"But this is good," Caitlin told him. "We now know that there is a secret hiding place. Surely the lost treasure will be there, too. If– when we find it, we will have both the proof that John is your rightful heir, and the salvation of the ghosts."

John disagreed. "If it were that simple, one of the ghosts would have solved it while they were alive. But Father, your search is a help, nonetheless. Where have you looked?"

"Everywhere. I don't think there's an inch of wall or floor I have not covered, and the grounds, too. I've found nothing. Hidden places, but they've been empty. Forgotten rooms, even, but none with what I sought."

"We'll start again, then," Caitlin decided. "We can't give up, Michael. And with three of us hunting, perhaps we'll be lucky this time. Will you help?" The last was clearly addressed to the ghosts. But the hope in her eyes faded to disappointment.

"Did they refuse?" Michael asked.

"They disappeared." Caitlin stamped one foot. "Surely one of them knows? Do they not realise that in this we are all on the same side?