Part 30 (1/2)
The older woman stepped closer and in a low voice confessed, ”I do not envy you, Lady Kerr, for you have chosen a difficult path. You will find the city much changed come the morrow when the castle opens its gates, and the wrath of King George is loosed on Edinburgh.”
Marjory cringed. And my wrath shall wax hot. She'd not fully weighed the consequences of supporting the Jacobite cause. None of them had.
”All is not lost, madam.” Lady Falconer reached for the Edinburgh Evening Courant on her hall table and pressed the broadsheet into Marjory's hands. ”Read the notice from George Wade. There is hope for your sons, though they must not delay.”
Dazed, Marjory clasped the folded newspaper. What recourse might a British field marshal offer her Jacobite sons? Nothing they would be willing to consider, she feared.
Hearing the clink of sterling against china and the strings of a fiddle being tuned, Marjory lifted her gaze to peer over her friend's shoulder. Her heart yearned to be among her friends and peers as if nothing had happened. As if she and her sons were still faithful to the crown and no one in her household was an enemy of their sovereign king. Marjory could not stop herself from asking, ”Might I still join you this evening? You can be sure the prince will never be mentioned.”
Lady Falconer looked genuinely distraught. ”For the sake of my guests... for your own sake, Lady Kerr... I bid you good night.” With the slightest of bows, she withdrew into the shadows as Chisholm slowly closed the door.
Forty-Six.
He's turn'd their heads, the lad,
And ruin will bring on us a.
CAROLINA OLIPHANT, LADY NAIRNE.
M arjory slumped into Gibson's arms.
He righted her at once. ”Now, now, mem. Dinna take what the leddy said to heart. In a week 'twill a' be richt again.”
Marjory heard the doubt behind his words. Society would not quickly forget her family's loyalty to the prince, and they both knew it very well. ”Take me home,” she begged him.
Gibson escorted her down the forestair, handling her with such care that tears sprang to her eyes. At least her household remained faithful even if her friends did not. Mrs. Edgar would be waiting with supper. Elisabeth and Janet would offer their sympathy. And her sons, when they learned of it, would fight all the more valiantly, defending a mother sent away in shame.
Overcome, Marjory nearly lost her balance on the stair. She'd supported her sons, had she not? And their prince? ”I did what I could,” she said under her breath, gripping the stair rail for support. ”I did what seemed right.”
Gibson patted her arm. ”I ken ye did, mem.”
Home beckoned like a sanctuary. None would judge her there. None would call her traitor.
As they retraced their steps through Pearson's Close, the bells of Saint Giles chimed the half hour. The evening air had grown colder and the fog thicker, as the muted sound of the bells proved.
The broadsheet Lady Falconer had given her in parting was still clutched in Marjory's hand. There is hope for your sons. Could it be true? Marjory let that hope grow inside her like a seedling after the rain. If something could be done to rescue their reputation. If her sons' lives and fortunes might both be spared. If it was not too late.
When they reached the High Street and started past the mercat cross, she pulled at Gibson's sleeve, making his lantern bob about. ”This cannot wait until we're home.”
He did not protest, merely held the lantern aloft while she unfolded the Evening Courant with trembling hands. The notice was quickly found-dated the thirtieth of October-but the small print was not so easily read in the murk. She held the page a handbreadth away from her eyes and squinted at the lines of ink, urging Gibson to bring the lantern closer.
It seemed Field Marshal George Wade had posted the notice on behalf of King George. A few words were hard to sort out in the meager light, but those she read pierced her heart like a sharpened dirk.
... his subjects inhabiting the Highlands of Scotland and others who've been seduced...
”That's the truth of it,” Marjory breathed. ”My sons were seduced by the prince and his cause. We all were.”
... to take arms and enter into a most unnatural rebellion...
”Aye, aye,” she said, nodding at the broadsheet as if Wade himself were present. However persuasive the Stuart claims, opposing the sovereign who held their t.i.tle and lands was not only unnatural; it was patently unwise. Why were these things so difficult to see in the midst and so easy to see from a distance?
... all such who shall return to their habitations on or before the twelfth day of November next and become available to his Majesty and his government shall be objects of his Majesty's clemency...
”My sons will be forgiven!” In her excitement and relief, she clamped her hand on Gibson's arm, nearly knocking his lantern to the ground. ”We have only to bring them home, and the king's clemency is a.s.sured.”
”Is that a', mem?” He frowned at the paper. Unlike Mrs. Edgar, he could not read more than a few rudimentary phrases.
Marjory skimmed the words again and realized that was not all the king required. ”Ah, I see. Donald and Andrew would fight for the government rather than for the prince.” A simple exchange of uniforms. Aye, and of loyalties, but they would not be the first men to do so. She'd heard stories of Scotsmen who'd fought for the British at Gladsmuir and then deserted to join the prince's army. And Lowlanders who had come out for the prince, then changed their minds and enlisted in support of the king.
Would her sons be willing to make such a sacrifice if it meant saving their t.i.tle and lands and securing their safety? Surely there was still time.
Lady Falconer's words grew louder inside her. They must not delay.
”What if the lads willna agree?” Gibson prompted her. ”What does Wade say to that?”
... if they shall continue in their rebellion, they will be proceeded against with rigor suitable to the nature of their crime.
”They will be charged with treason,” Marjory said in a low voice. Marshal Wade did not elaborate on the punishment. He did not need to. The penalty for treason was death. Donald, as a t.i.tled peer, would be beheaded, which was considered a merciful sentence. Andrew, as a second son, would be hanged, drawn, and quartered.
”Nae, it cannot be!” Marjory stared at the paper in horror. Why had she let them enlist? Why had she let them go? ”Take me home,” she whimpered, fearing she might be sick and add to her shame. ”Home, I must get home.”
A gnarled hand clutched hers as Gibson hurried her along the street, aided by the downward slope. ”Dinna fash yerself, Leddy Kerr. Yer sons are canny enough to see what must be done.”
I hope so. Oh, I pray so. Marjory pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, afraid to speak.
When they reached Baillie's Land, the turnpike stair made her feel even more nauseous. She nearly fell through the door into the arms of Mrs. Edgar, who helped her to her bedchamber, then made her presentable again when the worst was over. Marjory had never been so sick to her stomach nor had a better reason. My sons, my dear sons.
Elisabeth was waiting for her in the drawing room, her expression filled with concern. ”I'm so sorry you were taken ill. Was it something you ate at Lady Falconer's?”
Before Marjory could respond, Janet hurried in from her bedchamber. She was dressed for an evening with Lord and Lady Dalziel, though her hair was not yet styled nor her face powdered. ”Whatever has happened, madam? You look a sight.”
Marjory sank into a chair, her head throbbing and her stomach still queasy. ”I've much to tell you, none of it good.” Both young women joined her by the fire, their faces anxious, their mood sober.
Marjory was too drained to paint a gentle picture. ”Lady Falconer did not receive me.”
”Surely not!” Janet gaped at her in disbelief. ”Why would she be so uncivil?”
”Because we have turned our backs on the king.” Marjory's voice was flat, pressed down with grief. ”Because it is an act of treason. Edinburgh society will have nothing to do with us now.”
Her daughters-in-law were shocked into silence.