Cat's Cradle

  Rabbie looked across at me, his face ashen. ‘I dinna think it’s going well,’ he whispered.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said with more bravado than conviction, ‘my friends will come through for us.’

  ‘I canna see them; can ye?’

  ‘No conferring in the dock!’ barked Sir Charles.

  The guard shoved us apart.

  ‘Now to the charges,’ Sir Charles continued sternly. ‘Call the first witness.’

  * If you wish to be there, Reader, I refer you to Den of Thieves.

  SCENE 2 – MERRY MEN

  ‘I call on Mister Archibald Brown to take his place in the witness box,’ announced the sheriff.

  As the ghillie stepped up to take his oath, there was a noise outside the courtroom.

  ‘There’s nae room!’ I heard an official bellow. ‘Go back to where ye came from.’

  Sir Charles halted proceedings and gave a nod to a man to find out what was happening. When he opened the door, the exchange outside came through to the courtroom loud and clear.

  ‘Ye canna keep us out: our cousins are in there!’

  With a thrill of joy, I recognized Ian Moir’s voice raised in anger. Cousins – not cousin. So they knew about me too!

  ‘My man, I think ye should reconsider the wisdom of barring me from the court,’ a second voice suggested pleasantly.

  ‘Mr Dale, I didna see ye there,’ blustered the official. ‘O’ course, sir, step in and welcome.’

  ‘With my people as well.’

  ‘But there’s nae room in the gallery, sir. I didna lie about that.’

  ‘Then we’ll take the seats at the back of court kept for the town officials. There is always room down there.’

  Before anyone could stop him, Mr Dale entered, followed by a string of familiar faces from the mill: the Moirs from the father down to little Jeannie, the dominie, Mistress MacDonald, my dormitory companion Annie, the good doctor and the overseer. Bringing up the rear were Jamie and Bridgit. Catching sight of my anxious face, Jamie waved and Bridgit gave me a reassuring smile.

  Sir Charles stood up, forcing everyone else in the room to rise. ‘Mr Dale, what an unexpected pleasure,’ he said awkwardly, giving the factory owner a bow.

  Mr Dale continued down the aisle to the front. ‘Sir Charles, I’d like to offer myself as a character witness for the two young people you have on trial.’

  ‘That is very kind of you – quite unnecessary though as the evidence is very clear.’ The sheriff bent lower and dropped his voice. ‘Surely you know the Bruces, sir?’

  ‘Aye, that I do. But I know the girl has nothing to do with them. Under my employ she proved herself a good worker and a fine teacher, both of letters and the scriptures.’

  Sir Charles could not contain a disbelieving snort.

  ‘She isn’t the kind of lass who’d get mixed up in reiving,’ continued Mr Dale. ‘I fear you are labouring under a serious misapprehension.’

  ‘Me, sir?’ The sheriff clearly thought Mr Dale had taken leave of his senses.

  ‘Aye. She came to Scotland with the worthy purpose of tracing her family and it looks to me as if she has achieved it.’ Mr Dale gave a nod to Rabbie.

  ‘But she was found trespassing on Lady Ross-Baillie’s land,’ Sir Charles countered.

  ‘Like half of my workers do, I suppose you mean?’ chuckled Mr Dale. ‘I understand from those she was with that she went on the Sabbath to see one of God’s wonders, Corra Linn – hardly a hanging offence. I have suggested to Lady Ross-Baillie on numerous occasions that it is a sin to stop the minds of common people being opened and improved by viewing the mysteries of our Creator. She lets the rich gentry see the Linn, so why not those who, I would argue, need it more: the poor at her very gate?’

  There was a sharp gasp of outrage from Sir Charles’s right. I noticed for the first time that Lady Ross-Baillie herself was present, tucked discreetly in a corner under the gallery so as to be out of sight of vulgar eyes.

  ‘This is hardly the place to debate property rights,’ grumbled Sir Charles. He waved to the man taking note of proceedings. ‘Please note Mr Dale’s name as a character witness.’ He turned back to the factory owner. ‘Could I trouble you to take a seat?’

  ‘Only when you’ve added the names of Dominie Blair, Mistress MacDonald and Overseer Shaw,’ Mr Dale said evenly.

  Sir Charles gave a jerky nod, as if the gesture ruptured something in his neck, and Mr Dale turned to take a seat, giving me a ghost of a wink as he did so.

  ‘Now, back to our first witness,’ announced Sir Charles, his feathers ruffled. With Mr Dale present, he was no longer undisputed cock of the walk. ‘Mr Brown, please tell the court –’

  He got no further for there was a renewed commotion outside the door.

  ‘What now?’ he groaned.

  ‘Get out of the road! We’ve not come all this way to ’ave a runty Scot stop us goin’ where we want.’

  ‘But you canna –’ squeaked the official.

  ‘We canna what?’ Syd Fletcher asked menacingly. I could just picture him looming over the poor man, backing him up against the door.

  ‘Er, go on in, sir.’

  Syd threw the doors open with a crash and strode into the court, taking charge as if it were a tavern in Covent Garden. At his back were Nick and Joe looking suitably threatening as officials moved to intercept them then thought better of it.

  ‘All right, Cat?’ Syd asked loudly, his eyes sweeping the room for further threats.

  I’m not ashamed to admit I had tears in my eyes when I answered. ‘Yes, Syd. We’re all right.’

  ‘That your brother?’ He cocked an eyebrow at Rabbie.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t look much like you.’

  ‘I know, but he’s mine.’

  Syd gave a nod. ‘All right, we’ll spring ’im too.’

  I choked. ‘What?’

  Syd grinned. ‘All legal like – don’t want to get in trouble with no Scottish law.’

  ‘Of course not,’ I chuckled. Not that that would stop him. Knowing Syd, he’d try legal, then try something else.

  ‘This is descending into a farce!’ barked Sir Charles. ‘Who are you, young man?’

  ‘I’m character witness for Cat Royal. Known her since a baby, I ’ave. No one knows ’er better than me.’

  It was evident to all present that Sir Charles was beginning to wish he hadn’t got up that morning. ‘In that case, you must wait your turn with the others.’ He pointed to the seats at the back of the courtroom. ‘And stop intimidating my men!’

  ‘What? Me?’ asked Syd innocently, clenching his fists and baring his teeth in a mirthless smile. ‘I’m ’armless – mostly.’

  Nick and Joe gave me two identical grins and retreated with Syd to their seats. It might have been just a trick of the light, but I could swear that the official who’d stood nearest Joe was now short of a watch chain and accompanying ticker.

  Sir Charles thought it time to remind his rebellious audience of the solemnity of the occasion and of his own importance.

  ‘I will not allow the proceedings to be interrupted again – not for anything or anyone,’ he lectured us. ‘I will severely punish the next person who –’

  But he was destined not to finish. A crow-attendant fluttered to his side and whispered in his ear urgently. Sir Charles’s eyes widened.

  ‘What? Here?’ he stuttered.

  Oh, I was just loving this! It was better than a first night and a full house. I had a delicious sense of anticipation. Poking Rabbie in the ribs, I whispered.

  ‘We’ve had Friar Tuck,’ I nodded to Mr Dale, ‘Little John,’ I gestured to Syd, ‘now, if I’m not mistaken, it’s the turn of King Richard.’

  He looked at me blankly.

  ‘Haven’t you ever heard the tales of Robin Hood?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Just hold on to your hat: it’s about to get exciting.’

  Sir Charles was checking the arrangement
of his cravat nervously. ‘Let them in then,’ he muttered to the official. ‘Quickly!’

  The door opened for a final time. Sir Charles shot to his feet again, producing the ripple effect around the courtroom as everyone else rose. I had an inappropriate desire to giggle.

  ‘Your grace, this is an unexpected honour! And your lordship, so kind of you to come.’

  Walking down the aisle came the statesmanlike figure of the Duke of Avon, his midnight blue coat the last word in elegance, his cane tapping at every pace. At his shoulder, and striding in time with ease, was his son, the Earl of Arden, neatly turned out (for Frank, that is) in a claret jacket and gold silk waistcoat. Frank sought me out and gave a smile – he was enjoying this as much as me. A tall, scholarly looking man followed, carrying a pile of papers.

  ‘Sir Charles,’ replied the duke in his quiet but firm voice. The hubbub in the public gallery died down as we strained to hear every word. ‘So kind of you to make time for us. I have brought my advocate from Edinburgh, Mr Walter Scott, to advise our family friend Miss Royal. I trust that meets with your approval.’

  Sir Charles gave a nod. Dazed, he looked like one of the subjects of Mesmer’s experiments. ‘So she didn’t lie,’ he said, half to himself.

  Lady Ross-Baillie gave a whimper of distress. She had not for one moment believed my claim to know a duke – but she could be forgiven her scepticism. Not many Covent Garden waifs gather such friends in their career.

  ‘Miss Royal, lie?’ laughed Frank. ‘Of course not. She’s the soul of honesty and ladylike deportment.’

  With his back to Sir Charles, I hoped I was the only one who noticed that Frank had his fingers crossed.

  ‘It seems to me that this unfortunate matter need not go to trial,’ continued the duke. ‘I’ve consulted Mr Scott here and he thinks the process has been most irregular. He pointed out that the defendants were not given access to legal counsel and no jury was summoned to deliberate the more serious charges. It is almost as if the guilty verdict has been decided in advance on the strength of reputation alone, but I’m sure that cannot be the case.’

  Sir Charles flushed, the picture of a culpable man. The duke took out his watch, giving the impression that this had taken up enough of his valuable time already and it would be better for the future of all concerned if they did exactly as he said. ‘May I suggest that we adjourn today’s hearing and retire to discuss the matter as gentlemen? I can vouch for Miss Royal and am willing to extend the same protection to her brother. My family owes her a great debt and we would be most grateful to you for giving us the chance to repay it.’

  Oh, well done the duke! I cheered him on silently. Reading between the lines of his polite speech, he was telling Sir Charles that his court was a shambles and that if he didn’t let us go he’d earn the undying displeasure of one of the Britain’s most illustrious houses.

  Sir Charles tugged on his cravat and glanced up at the public gallery. It appeared the people’s desire to hang a Bruce had been completely distracted by the fascinating spectacle on the courtroom floor. It wasn’t every day that the little town of Lanark saw their sheriff out-bigwigged.

  ‘I suppose . . . I suppose . . .’ began Sir Charles.

  ‘But what about my cows?’ protested Lady Ross-Baillie, annoyed that her concerns were about to be so easily brushed aside.

  The duke turned to bestow a brilliant smile on her. ‘Why, Lady Ross-Baillie! It has been a while since I last had the pleasure of seeing you. You are looking as beautiful as ever.’ He gallantly moved to kiss her hand. ‘May I present my son to you?’

  Frank gave an accomplished bow. Lady Ross-Baillie fluttered and blushed under the combined flattery of the House of Avon.

  ‘I will make sure you are recompensed for your loss,’ murmured the duke. ‘I would never leave a lady in distress.’

  ‘Of course you would not,’ she beamed at him.

  The duke straightened up from their private conference. ‘What is it to be, Sir Charles?’ he asked in a brisker tone.

  Sir Charles glanced to Mr Dale, the local celebrity, then to the London troublemakers ready to enforce our freedom, and finally to the duke with his formidable legal counsel. He knew that he was beaten.

  ‘The case is adjourned, pending further investigation,’ he announced. ‘I release Catherine Royal and Rabbie Bruce into the custody of the Duke of Avon. That is if you are willing, your grace, to stand as guarantor for them?’

  The duke gave me a warm smile. ‘I am.’

  Sir Charles knocked a gavel on a board. ‘Court is suspended.’

  As he swept out, I could swear I heard him mutter, ‘Thank God.’

  I was ready to jump over the edge of the dock to hug my friends, but instead we were hustled back to the cheerless room. Rabbie’s irons were struck off while we waited for the papers to be signed, confirming our release.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ admitted Rabbie, giving me a delighted grin. ‘I had my doubts, but deep down, I believed that ye could do it.’

  ‘I did nothing. It was all the work of my friends – and family.’ I added the last with a catch in my throat. I couldn’t wait to see the Moirs.

  ‘Ye are free to go,’ announced the guard unhappily, opening the door on to the back yard.

  And there they were – all of them, even the duke.

  Frank was the first to reach me. ‘You idiot, Cat! I let you go to Scotland and you take up cattle thieving just to make my hair go grey before I’m twenty.’

  ‘Mind my arm,’ I squawked as he hugged me.

  Frank realized for the first time that I had a sling under my shawl. ‘Sorry. Are you all right? That was stupid of me.’

  Syd altered his usual crushing embrace to a gentle squeeze. ‘’Ow did that ’appen?’ He gave Rabbie an assessing look, wondering if he were to blame.

  ‘I fell off a horse – my fault entirely,’ I said quickly, not wanting to sour my brother’s relationship with my best friends from the outset. ‘Frank, Syd – may I introduce Rabbie, my brother?’

  ‘Humph!’ said Syd. ‘Bridgit told us all about you, you mangy rascal – kidnappin’ Cat and gettin’ ’er into your trouble.’

  Before Rabbie could open his mouth to retaliate, I stepped on his foot.

  ‘All things for which he is sincerely sorry, I’m sure,’ I said quickly. ‘But you’re missing the point, Syd. He’s my brother. Isn’t that wonderful!’

  ‘Yeah, Kitten, I know. Congratulations.’ He sized Rabbie up again. ‘Big lad. I s’pose we could make somethink of ’im when we get ’im ’ome.’

  Rabbie was not warming to my friends as I had hoped, but then they didn’t exactly like him either. A familiar state of affairs. ‘I willna be going away wi’ ye,’ he sneered.

  Bad move to sneer at Syd. Rabbie found himself dangling from his shirtfront and lifted to Syd’s eyes. ‘Tough luck, mate. You should’ve thought of that before you got yourself in gaol.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. Syd seemed convinced Rabbie was going back to London with me.

  Frank gave me a half-smile. ‘Conditions of your release, Cat. My father’s agreed to take you both back with us and to ensure that your brother stays out of trouble.’

  ‘Nae!’ protested Rabbie. ‘Put me back in there. I’ll talk to the man!’

  ‘Too late. You had a choice between swinging for a thief or becoming the ward of a duke. We took the liberty of choosing the latter for you. Welcome to the family, Rabbie.’ Frank goosed him in the ribs to deflate his outraged stance then ruffled his hair.

  Rabbie turned to appeal to me. ‘Cat, tell them I canna leave here.’

  I bit my lip. I could guess how this must seem to him – something like an avalanche in the Highlands sweeping away all his familiar landmarks. ‘I’m afraid I don’t think you have much choice, Rabbie – not for now at least. And I’ll be with you, don’t forget that.’

  Rabbie scowled but had the good sense to recognize he was up against a brick wall. He gave a curt nod. ‘As
long as ye promise ye’ll no leave me,’ he muttered.

  ‘I promise.’

  Syd and Frank moved aside so that I could curtsey to the duke and thank him for his assistance.

  ‘Not at all, Miss Royal,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Considering our past history, it was the least I could do to settle the great debt our family owes you. And I’m delighted you’ve found your brother so unexpectedly.’

  ‘Thank you, your grace. He’s very grateful to you too.’ I nudged Rabbie who murmured something which I hoped the duke construed as thanks. It sounded a little too much like curses to me.

  Bridgit and Jamie came up next. I half-strangled Bridgit with my enthusiastic greeting.

  ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ I exclaimed.

  She laughed. ‘To be sure, it was nothing: just a letter and a word in the right ear. You made lots of friends in New Lanark, Cat.’

  ‘That ye have, Snippie,’ grinned Jamie.

  ‘I hadn’t realized until today. Thanks, professor.’ I felt someone nudge my hand. ‘Jeannie!’

  ‘Hello, Cousin Catherine,’ the little girl giggled. ‘I’m very glad ye’re one o’ us.’

  Ian and Dougie joined her and both gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Time to come home, cousin, and tell the family what ye’ve been up to for the last fourteen years or so,’ said Dougie.

  ‘Jamie says we’ll no believe ye when we hear the full tale,’ added Ian, picking Jeannie up to give her a lift on his shoulders. ‘So we are primed to be amazed.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I promised, following his lead as he guided us out of the yard to the waiting carriages. ‘I wouldn’t want to disappoint my audience.’

  HIGHWAYMEN

  My friends and family (is it not a miracle that I can write that?) spent Christmas together at Kinlochrie, one of the duke’s Scottish estates near Stirling. The duke himself returned to London, leaving Frank in charge of his extensive and unconventional guest list of mill workers and London market boys, but he managed admirably. We played games, burned a massive yule log in the parlour hearth, and ate and drank to our hearts’ content. My friend Professor Jamie discovered the library and only rarely came up for air. He struck up a friendship with the steward over something he called ‘steam engineering’ – whatever that is – so we left them to their discussion of gaskets and pistons. On a less learned note, Syd identified both Dougie and Rabbie as promising boxers and spent the day after Christmas taking them through their paces on the back lawn, providing us all with much entertainment and only one bloody nose.