Quest of the Five Clans: the Harlequin Tartan

CHAPTER 13

At that she gave over silence, turned to me, red brows raised. Eyes of forest green. With such eyes and hair she should have reminded of Elspeth. But no, she made me think of foxes peering out from brush. Lovely and familiar. And yet, I felt no tug of heart. I felt at ease. Almost, I laughed.

"At least the fountain remains," I added. "Not that I can ever keep the water flowing. I content myself to watch the lion drink the rain."

Eyebrows still raised, she turned from me, to the stone lion in the fountain, back to me. Finally found her line in the script.

"This is not the reunion I pictured," she declared.

"What did you picture, madam?"

She frowned at 'madam'. "That you would weep. Hold me. Else scowl, order me from your house." Our eyes met. I could think of nothing to do but bow.

"Rayne Gray, at your service. Now please explain, who are you?"

The young cleric laughed, if you name airy expulsion from the gut's bile as laughter. He set tea-cup to table with a divine and forceful clink.

"Master Rayne, within the registry of the Church of All Saints you will find your name, entered and signed in solemn ceremony of marriage, which I myself conducted. I had not known till some hours ago that you'd decided to end what God had begun. But then, you planned to end a life this morning. The acts are much the same."

I did not turn at that, continued to meet the woman's eyes. I repeated my name, magically summoning myself. "Rayne Gray. And you...?"

She sighed. "I am Sionnach Gray your wife. As this priest says. Married to you some two months past. Your valet Stephano witnessed the event, as did my cousin Faun. I, I bear your child. Conceived on our wedding night."

Some instinct made me look to my left hand. No ring. Why even think to look? And two months? Scarce time to show such clear sign of child within womb. But not a thing for a gentleman to observe. We leave it for the ladies to reckon backwards from birth-bed to wedding-bed, smiling at sums less than nine.

"Stephano is dead," I announced. "Our carriage was waylaid on the road north. I myself was wounded. That was a bloody night." The night I'd killed Black. And Dealer. Various guards. Also a high judge. A minister of the War Department. I hadn't killed Stephano, he'd died protecting me. Ironic, that ending. I'd meant to kill him for dessert.

She turned back to considering the stone lion. "You live a violent life, Rayne."

"True. But I have lived it here," I pointed out. "Where have you been?"

She answered soft, almost sing-song, a child reciting play rhyme. "In Edinburgh. You were to join me. When you did not, I wrote. Beautiful letters, those. Pink flower-petal words telling you I trusted, I loved, I believed. No answer came and no answer came and no answer and no. Till my heart said you must lie dead, or in gaol-chains again. And so I returned seeking your grave, your cell."

Stamp of foot! No more child-voice, but angry affronted woman. "And your servants turned me from your proud new door. Me! I must fetch lawyer and priest before your valet would grudge audience."

I pictured these letters, never seen. Paper scented with lilac and tears. Affirmations to a hole in the heart, an absence in the soul that made the hand shake, penned words blur. The first letters would be hopeful. The final letters, mere moan of anguish.

"My servants have their instructions," I explained. "Politics, wealth and reputation draws strange visitors. My household has never heard of any Mrs. Gray, excepting a lunatic message through the window."