She felt the tension between Archie and her maid and bit the inside of her cheek to remind herself of discretion. What a strange and unexpected mystery within a mystery. “I'd like to see them, if I may.”
“Who?” Archie finally looked at her. “The boys?”
“Who else?” Impatient, she simply hiked her skirts and headed to the stairs.
“They're upstairs, where they always are,” he said to her back. The sounds of Archie's and Fiona's hushed murmuring ushered her out of the room.
The makeshift dormitory was a windowless room with a low, gabled ceiling. She stood at the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the utter blackness. And though it took her a moment to make sense of the sleeping forms, the heavy breathing of over a dozen boys greeted her, even and peaceful.
It was just as Archie had said: they were all asleep.
She tiptoed in until she found Davie, a smaller figure in the corner. His cheek was crushed against his pillow, mouth open, his face serene. She stroked a finger along his forehead, sweeping the hair from his brow. Safe.
Something that'd been clenched in her chest loosened, and she breathed a relieved sigh.
She stood, staring into the blackness. There were a couple of problems that remained. If Archie wasn't the kidnapper, who was? And why was Archie receiving money from the bailie?
Careful not to wake the boys, Marjorie went back downstairs, worrying the questions in her mind. Fiona and Archie stood together before the library fire, and she had to clear her throat to get their attention. They sprang apart at the sight of her.
Archie fiddled nervously with his cuffs. “Did you see them?”
If she didn't have more pressing matters on her mind, she'd have asked the two of them what was going on. But instead she said, “Safely tucked in for the night, as you said.”
“I was telling Fiona. I implore you. It's not safe here.” Archie hesitated, looking from Marjorie to Fiona, unsure which woman he should address. “You must return home.”
Annoyed with the whole situation, Marjorie turned her back on him and dropped unceremoniously into a chair.
“First I have something to discuss with you, Archibald.”
“But it's not safe. The bailie… “
She meticulously folded her woolen wrapper. “Oh, I know about you and the bailie.”
“His is a dishonorable household,” Archie said fervendy. “You both must hurry back to your uncle's. The lads are safe with me.”
He gave Fiona a tender look, and for Marjorie, that mawkish expression was the last straw.
“I've seen what safe means for you,” she said brusquely. She'd grown tired of roundabout men who told her what to do, with no explanation for it. She'd state the situation plainly, if nobody else would. “I saw you receive money, when I was at the bailie's home. Is taking money in exchange for children what you'd call safe?” Archie's eyes flew to her. “Losh, no, Marj! I'd never do such a thing.”
“Then how do you explain the fact that I saw you skulking about the bailie's back rooms, taking payment from his manservant, not long after Davie's disappearance?”
He sputtered for words, and just when Marjorie thought she'd trapped him, he surprised her with an entirely different excuse. “The money… that wasn't from the bailie. It was payment from his wife. I made Adele a tonic.
Against pregnancy.”
His gaze swept to Fiona, as though the maid's recognition of his innocence were paramount. “I've long suspected the bailie of nefarious doings,” he insisted. “Their lifestyle exceeds what would be expected of an officer of Aberdeen. I slowly ingratiated myself to him, watching and waiting all the while.” He pulled his shoulders back.
“When Davie was taken, the time had come to act, and act boldly.” Fiona puffed with pride.
“You had suspicions, too?” Marjorie sat forward on her chair. “But why didn't you simply tell me?”
“I tried. That day at Humphrey's. But your Cormac was—”
“Once and for all,” Marjorie snapped, “he's not my Cormac.”
Archie's eyes widened. “Be that as it may, Cormac struck me as… how shall I put it… arrogant about the matter. I assumed you were safe in his care.”
“I'm in no man's care.”
Fiona grunted as though she knew better, sharing a little eye roll with Archie.
Marjorie popped up from the chair. She had to turn her back from the sight of them cutting doe eyes at each other. “So how do we stop the bailie?”
“I must stay here all night,” Archie said with great bravado. “I've heard the Oliphant leaves at dawn. I'll guard the boys until then.”
Though Marjorie knew his gesture was brave and true, his earnestness nettled her. Cormac flashed into her mind, and she scowled. She'd seen bravery, and it didn't sit perched on a leather armchair, behind a locked door, bearing a snifter of brandy.
“I'll stay with you.” Fiona couldn't say the words quickly enough.
“Then you and I shall keep watch,” he said grandly.
Marjorie looked from Archie to Fiona. The attraction was plain between them, but she wondered about their difference in class. Though Archie didn't come from great wealth, he was studying to be a physician, and some would find his choice of a maid shocking. If they were discreet, Marjorie supposed Fiona's looks were enough to elevate her above her station. Indeed, her maid was ripe and lovely, and clearly there was something about her that made Archie feel like the man he struggled to be.
Marjorie looked down at her feet. She recognized love when she saw it. It made her feel empty and alone.
“Will you be safe?” Fiona asked her.
“I'll rush back to Humphrey's straightaway. I'll lock myself in as I'd promised and wait for Cormac.” Marjorie managed a smile. “You've the right of it, Arch. Cormac will help me.” The lies spilled easily enough from her mouth. She knew what she had to do, and it wasn't cowering in her bedroom. She may not have the skills to sink the Oliphant. But there were men imprisoned on board, men who'd set sail at dawn, to spend the rest of their days toiling on a plantation far from home. She'd get on that boat, somehow. She'd free them.
Humphrey's house was pitch-black when Cormac returned. He took the back stairs two at a time — he couldn't see her soon enough.
It'd been wrong not to tell her the truth. He'd tell her about Aidan. He vowed it was the last secret he'd ever keep from her.
Together they'd find a solution. Together they'd convince Aidan, and then Cormac would save the men. There was no other way; he saw that now. They belonged as a pair. Everything felt wrong when they were apart.
He burst through her door, but the bedroom was empty. Baffled, he ran his hands over the sheets as though he might somehow find her hiding there.
He heard a scuffling behind him, and spun. But instead of Marjorie standing there, it was the wee scullion girl.
His heart fell.
“Where is she?” he asked, and his voice came out as an accusation.
“She went with Fiona.” The girl spoke quietly, and Cormac had to tilt his head to hear. “They raced off.”
“Where?” He forced his voice to evenness. It'd do no good to terrify his only source of information.
“I heard… mayhap there was talk of a man, and a ship,” she said, not taking her eyes from her feet.
Cormac's heart stuck in his throat. Could Marjorie have gone to the ship without him?
She could, and she would. She'd been furious with him and apparently feeling more betrayed than he'd ever have imagined.
How had he let it come to this? He needed to find her, tell her the truth, and make her his. If she didn't believe he loved her, he'd show her.
Cormac raced back into the night. He'd destroy that ship, even if it destroyed him in the process.
Chapter 35
Marjorie couldn't just sit by and watch as a dozen or more of her countrymen were snatched from their families and displaced to a foreign shore where they'd spend the rest of their lives toiling for some plantation owner.
Granted, she wasn't quite sure how, precisely, she'd go about saving them, but she told herself she'd figure it out as she went. And sure enough, though she'd wondered how she was to magically alight on the deck of the Oliphant, the rope ladder was down and waiting when she arrived. “Well, thank you, Jack,” she said under her breath.
It meant someone had arrived before her. The bailie perhaps? She stood completely still, struggling to listen, but the only sound from above was the natural creak and groan of the ship's timber. Whoever the visitor was, they'd gone below.
But surely somebody was on deck. She scanned the railing, knowing there must be at least one sailor on watch. It took a few minutes' wait, but finally she saw him, a tallish figure sauntering toward the rear of the ship. She opened her ears, waiting for the sound of distant chatter, but there was only silence. She'd just have to hope he was the only man on deck.
Though the ladder swayed in the darkness, Marjorie managed to clamber on, and more easily this time. She'd learned the hard way it was best to focus only on the cut of the raw rope in her palms, rather than dwelling on the water that slapped and churned below, now an eerie gun-metal gray in the moonlight.
Hoisting herself over the railing was another matter entirely, though, and she was grateful none saw her shimmying and kicking over. She made it, and sat on deck for a moment with her skirts in a tangle at her knees.
Scooting her back against the railing, she ducked into the shadows to scan for sailors while she caught her breath.
The man she'd spied was now leaning over the aft rail. Even if she squinted, all she could make out were the white stripes of his shirt in the night. She assured herself that, if she remained quiet, he wouldn't spot her either.
She looked to her right and clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. The little moorish boy from before stood there, silent as a wraith. She drew in several unsteady breaths, waiting for her heart to stop thudding in her chest. “You frightened me,” she said in a barely audible whisper.