Sophia's Secret

  He paused, then asked me, ‘When you’re up there, walking through the rooms, what does it feel like?’

  It was tricky to explain. ‘Like everyone just left the room as I walked in. I almost hear their steps, the swishing of their gowns, but I can never quite catch up with them.’

  ‘I thought perhaps,’ he said, ‘you might see flashes of the past, there in the ruins.’

  ‘No.’ I looked a moment longer and then pulled my gaze away. ‘The memories aren’t at Slains, itself. They’re locked in my subconscious, and they come out while I’m writing, though I’m not sure they are memories till I’ve had a chance to test them.’ And I told him how his Old Scots Navy book had proved my Captain Gordon scenes were factual. ‘I’ve decided not to read the book at all, I’m only using it to verify the details once I’ve written down a scene. But not everything is that easy to prove. I’ve just found out my heroine is pregnant, for example, so to prove she really was I’d have to find a record of the child’s birth or baptism that lists Sophia as the mother. Records from so long ago don’t always tell you what you need to know, if you can track them down at all. There are a lot of people in our family tree my dad can’t find, and he’s been working on the thing for years.’

  ‘But you’d be at a slight advantage with Sophia Paterson,’ he pointed out. ‘You have a window on her life.’

  ‘That’s true. I know the dates of some events now, and the places where they happened, and my dad did find the proof of those.’

  The mention of my father caught his interest. ‘Did you tell him?’

  ‘How I got the information? Yes. I didn’t have much choice.’

  ‘And what does he think about all of this?’

  I didn’t know for certain what my father thought. ‘He said he’d keep an open mind.’ My tone turned dry. ‘I think he would have liked it better if I’d inherited the memory of Sophia’s husband, David McClelland. Daddy still has lots of blanks he’d like to fill in on that side.’

  The doctor watched me closely for a minute. ‘I’d imagine that he’s envious.’

  ‘My father?’

  ‘Aye. And so am I. Who wouldn’t be? Most people dream of travelling through time.’

  I knew that he was right. There’d been so many novels written round that premise, and so many movies made where people journeyed to the future, or the past, that it was clear to see the theme was an enduring one, a common human fantasy.

  And one the doctor evidently shared. ‘And when I think what it would mean to have the memory of an ancestor, to see what they had seen… I told you, did I not, that one of my own ancestors was captain of a ship? He sailed to China, once, and to Japan. I might have his love of the sea, but I don’t have his actual memories.’ His eyes grew wistful. ‘And what memories they must have been – of storms at sea, and sailing round the Cape, and seeing China in the glory of its empire…who wouldn’t wish for that?’

  I had no answer to his question, but it lingered in my mind when he had gone, as did his mention of the sea and of the men who’d sought their fortune on its waves. The wind was rising at my window, and a winging band of low white cloud was closing on the castle. And in my imagination – or my memory – it began to take the shape of something else.

  XII

  Captain Gordon’s ship had not been seen along the coast for so long that Sophia had begun to wonder what might have become of him. From time to time a dinner guest brought news of all the changes that were happening in Scotland and in England, from the Union of the nations, so she knew the Scottish navy had been feeling the effects of it as well, and she could only guess that Captain Gordon’s orders had been altered so that he no longer sailed according to his former course.

  She was surprised, then, when she woke one bright blue morning in the last days of October and looked out to see the now-familiar masts and rigging of his ship at anchor close below the cliffs.

  He had not changed. His features were as handsome and his manners were as gallant as before. ‘I swear, your Ladyship, each time I come to Slains young Mistress Paterson looks lovelier.’

  He kissed her hand with warmth, and though Sophia did not welcome his attentions, she was nonetheless relieved to know that he, like all the others except Kirsty, had not noticed her condition. For in truth it did not show – she was but five months gone, her stomach still was flat, although it had begun to soften, and the fashion of her gowns was so forgiving that she knew it might be some time yet before she was found out. She felt quite healthy, with an energy that fired her from within and made her happy with the world. It was perhaps this radiance, she thought, that Captain Gordon had perceived.

  He stayed to dinner, and when wine was poured he took his glass in hand and raised it in a toast to young King James. ‘God grant that he comes soon.’

  The countess drank, and set her glass down, smiling. ‘Were it up to God alone, I do not doubt but that the king would have been here already. But God passes His affairs into the hands of men, and there the trouble lies.’

  ‘What says the Duke of Perth, your brother? He is there at Saint-Germain, and has the king’s ear, does he not? What does he take to be the cause of their delay?’

  ‘He tells me little in his letters, out of fear they will be read by other eyes than mine. But he is as impatient as the rest of us,’ she said. ‘I sense the problem does not lie at Saint-Germain, but at Versailles. The King of France does hold the purse-strings of this venture, after all, and the ships cannot set sail without his order.’

  Captain Gordon said, ‘In their defence, I must admit the winds of late have not been very favourable. Last month when setting out from Yarmouth we were damaged so severely in a gale that we were forced to put back altogether, and a few weeks afterwards, when coming into Leith, we found the winds so bad that it was not until some three days after we had dropped our anchor that I could be rowed ashore. Not that I minded, for in truth I had all but exhausted my store of tricks for delaying the voyage.’

  The earl asked him, ‘Why would you wish to do that?’

  ‘Why, to give the French fleet a fair run at our coast. I had hoped they would have brought young James across before now, for there was a long time when my ship and I were being settled into our positions in this new united Royal Navy of Great Britain. Both Captain Hamilton and I appeared before the Navy Board the first few days in August, to receive our new commissions and the new names of our ships, there being English ships already named the Royal William and the Royal Mary. My ship is now the Edinburgh, while Captain Hamilton’s is called the Glascow. After this our ships were both surveyed to judge how fit they were for service, which took time, and then both ships were ordered brought into a dry dock for refitting, so for all that time there was no ship assigned to cruise this northern coast. The king would have done well had he but seized that as his moment. But,’ he said, and shrugged, ‘for reasons that do pass my understanding, he did not, and I was after ordered northward. There was little I could do but make my progress slow, by means of varied misadventures. You’ll have heard, no doubt, what did befall the Edinburgh at Leith?’ He glanced around at their expectant faces. ‘No? Then you have been deprived of a diverting tale. My crew,’ he said, ‘did mutiny.’

  The countess raised her eyebrows in astonishment. ‘Your crew?’

  ‘I know. ’Tis difficult to fathom, is it not, when I am so well loved by those I do command.’ His smile held a good-natured conceit. ‘I can assure you, it was not an easy thing to manage.’ Slicing off a piece of beef, he speared it with his knife point. ‘Several days before, I stirred a rumour round that we’d be bound for the West Indies after Leith. My men, who for the most part have been pressed to service, taken from their homes against their will, have little liking for the prospect of a passage to the Indies, with its dangers and its deprivations. By the time we’d reached the Road of Leith, they were fair fevered with anxiety. And so I went ashore, and stayed there some time on the pretext of my waiting on the Treasury to clear m
y old accounts, and sure enough, while I was gone, one hundred of my crewmen made good their escape in boats.’ He grinned. ‘It took two weeks for us to round them up and coax them back aboard. And in that time, of course, I could not sail.’

  The countess could not quite achieve a look of disapproval. ‘I do hope you did not punish them when they returned.’

  ‘My men? No, all has been forgiven, and they’ve settled to their labours as before, with my advice to close their ears to idle rumours in the future.’

  ‘Oh, Thomas,’ said the countess, with an open smile now.

  He gave a careless shrug. ‘’Tis not a tactic I am like to use again, at any rate. I can hardly hope to move my crew to mutiny a second time without it reflecting poorly on myself, and much as I do love my king, I have no strong desire to sacrifice my reputation for him.’ But he said that lightly, and Sophia had a feeling that despite the show of self-importance, Captain Gordon stood prepared to sacrifice far more if he were asked. He carried on, ‘No, I shall have to find some other means to keep these waters clear for him. It should not be so difficult. I’ve no reports of any ships to the northwards that want convoy, and no privateers have been seen on this coast for a long time, so we have no cause to make this cruise a lengthy one, nor keep close to the shore. No doubt I will be forced by the weather to stand off to sea a while,’ was his straight-faced speculation, ‘and the gales this far north can so damage a ship that, by the time we do reach England, enough small things may have suffered that we’ll likely need repair. In fact, it’s possible the Edinburgh may need enough attention to be put into a dry dock, and when that is done I would not be at all surprised to find some sudden business matter pressing me to ask for leave to spend some days in London. So with luck,’ he finished off, ‘the king may find his way unchallenged until Christmas.’

  From the table’s end, the earl asked, disbelieving, ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘I can try.’

  The countess said, ‘You must be careful.’

  ‘I am careful.’

  ‘You are good,’ she told him. ‘And I mean to see that young King James does know it.’

  Gordon flashed a smile and shrugged. ‘He can reward me when he comes,’ he said, ‘by making me an admiral.’

  When the meal was over, he sat back and viewed his stomach with a pretence of dismay. ‘Your cook does try to make me fat each time I come here.’

  ‘It was not the cook,’ the countess said, ‘who made you take three helpings of the pudding.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right. Still, I’d be well advised to take a bit of exercise, else I may sink my ship when I return to her. I wonder,’ he said casually, and looked along the table, ‘if your lovely Mistress Paterson would join me for a turn around the gardens.’

  With three heads turned to look at her, Sophia could not think of any graceful way to tell him no. She might have claimed a headache, but she’d not have been convincing since she’d been behaving normally the whole time of the meal. Besides, the countess was watching her now with a motherly interest. Sophia could not disappoint her by treating their favourite guest rudely. She nodded. ‘Of course.’

  It was cool in the garden. The walls blocked the bite of the wind off the sea, but the air held the chill breath of autumn. Those flowers that had not yet died had begun to fade, and everything had a more desolate feel. But a songbird, alone by the high wall, sat trilling his melody bravely, undaunted.

  Sophia had not ventured out to the garden too often since Moray had gone. She had come with the countess a few times, to walk and admire the colourful blooms of the summer, and once she had come out with Kirsty to help gather herbs. But she’d always been uncomfortably aware of Billy Wick, whether he was at work in the open or scuffling unseen in some weed-tangled corner. His dark-windowed stone bothy crouched like a loathsome great toad at the foot of the gardens against the high twisting trees edging the burn, and she could not look upon it without feeling in her heart a touch of dread, of something evil that was watching her, and waiting.

  Billy Wick himself was in full view today, at work with shears among the branches of the lilac tree – the same tree she had stood beneath with Moray that last night, when it had showered her with petals and he’d kissed her…

  ‘I must confess,’ said Gordon, ‘when I met you first, I did not know how you would fare at Slains. You seemed too quiet, and the countess is’ – he paused, to find the word – ‘a forceful woman.’

  She was well aware he meant that as a compliment, but still she felt the need to rise a little to the countess’s defence. ‘She is a woman of intelligence and grace.’

  ‘She is that, yes. And it is clear she has been teaching you the way of it. You’ve changed, these past few months.’

  She could have told him that she had changed more than he could know, and that it had not been the countess’s achievement, but she only said politely, ‘For the better, I do hope.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He turned his head to smile down at her. He had not moved to offer her his arm, but walked beside her at his ease. ‘You will forgive me if I say that you seemed yet a girl when you arrived, and now in this short time you have matured into a woman. ’Tis a stunning transformation.’

  He was charming her deliberately, and might have said as much to any girl who struck his fancy, but Sophia had to steel herself to keep from laying one protective hand across her belly, as though fearing he could truly see the secret that had altered her. She told him, ‘You do flatter me.’

  ‘I tell the truth.’

  Beyond his shoulder, Billy Wick was watching them in furtive silence, busy with his shears. And of a sudden it was more than she could bear to see him hacking at the lilac tree, to see the leafless branches fall to lie upon the barren ground, defiled. She looked to Gordon. ‘Shall we try another path? The sun is in my eyes.’

  ‘Of course.’ He chose the path that ran between the roses, with their spent blooms scattered pale beneath the thorny shrubs. Reaching in his coat, he drew a flat and narrow parcel out and held it lightly in his hand. ‘When I was in London, waiting for the Edinburgh to be refitted, I did chance to see these in the window of a shop. They made me think of you.’

  He would have passed the parcel to her but she hesitated. ‘Captain Gordon…’

  ‘Please.’ He stopped walking on the path and smiled his most persuasive smile. ‘’Tis but a trifle.’

  With reluctant hands, Sophia took the gift. The paper wrapping came away to show a pair of dainty gloves worked in white leather, with embroidered knots of gold. She held them dumbly, thinking back to when he’d last been here – when she had sat on Moray’s gloves to hide them, in the drawing room; to hide the fact that she had just been wearing them.

  He said, ‘I do believe I told you that your hands deserved to have a softer covering than Mr Moray’s gauntlets.’

  She remembered. ‘Yes, you did.’ She felt the lovely gloves a moment longer in her hand, then held them out towards him. ‘I cannot accept them. It would not be right.’

  ‘How so?’ He stood his ground, amused. This was a different sort of dance, Sophia realised, than the one that she’d been led through by the cunning Duke of Hamilton – the steps were more straightforward, but she still could not afford to put a foot wrong. Captain Gordon was a man whose handsome face and charm had doubtless gained him much, and he was clearly seeking now to add Sophia to his winnings.

  She could choose to simply go along and play for time, till Moray could return…but she knew that would cost her conscience dearly. So she tried, without revealing all, to make him understand.

  ‘You are a kind man, Captain, and your gift is very thoughtful, but I feel it has been offered with a certain understanding, and I would not so insult you by receiving an affection I cannot return.’

  His eyebrow lifted slightly, as though it had never crossed his mind that he might be refused. Sophia thought, for one long minute, that she had offended him. But finally he reclaimed the gloves, and slowly said, ??
?I see.’

  And she felt certain that he did see, from the way his gaze passed over her, returning with the faintest smile, conceding his defeat. ‘Perhaps I was mistaken to presume you were in need of these. It seems that Mr Moray’s gloves did fit you well enough.’

  Her eyes betrayed her, gave him confirmation, and she knew it.

  ‘So,’ he said, quite softly. ‘Does the countess know?’

  Sophia shook her head. The sudden danger of his knowing struck her cold, and she looked up at him imploringly. ‘You will not tell her?’

  He was silent for so long she was not sure how he would answer. Then he gently tucked the fine embroidered gloves beneath his coat and brought his gaze to hers again with all his former gallantry. ‘You have my word,’ he promised her, and offering his arm said, ‘Now, come walk me back. My ship and crew are waiting, and I do perceive that it is past the time I should be gone.’

  It was the countess’s reaction that Sophia dreaded most, but when the Edinburgh had once again sailed northward all the older woman said was, ‘Captain Gordon is a charming man.’

  Her head was bent with care above her needlework, her comment almost absent as though she were loathe to break her concentration. But Sophia felt the pause that followed, and she knew that she was meant to answer.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘A very charming man.’

  ‘Were I younger, I myself would likely be in love with him. But such a man,’ the countess said, ‘is not for every woman.’

  She glanced up at that, and in her smiling eyes Sophia read an understanding, a forgiveness. And although they never spoke of it directly, she was sure the countess somehow knew the core of what had passed between herself and Captain Gordon on the garden path, and that whatever hopes the countess might have had were laid to rest without regret, and would no more be mentioned.

  I didn’t need to look into the Old Scots Navy book to know that what I’d written was the truth, but I looked anyway. It was all there, as I had known it would be: the renaming of Captain Gordon’s ship, the Royal William, to the Edinburgh; his journey northwards in October, and the mutiny among his men at Leith.