risk, but Ah’ll tell ye this...”. He leant forward and with Mistress Weir gazing up in anticipation at him, he said, “Whatever information it is that ye’ve somehow gleaned aboot oor movements, then Mistress Weir, for the love of God, for all our sakes, Ah beg ye keep such dangerous knowledge firmly under your mutch. These are dangerous times and the less ye know or even let people think ye know, then the better for all concerned. Dae ye get my meaning, Mistress Weir?”
He finished by giving the elderly woman what Maggie could only describe as a decidedly flirtatious wink, at which point their neighbour blushed like a schoolgirl, preened herself and said, “Your secret is safe with me, Mr Bell. Ye can rest assured that my lips are sealed.”
Fergus nodded, patted her on the shoulder, smiled and said, “Ah just knew Ah could trust you. But listen, forget the Mister Bell, for anybody doing me such a great service as you, it’s Fergus.” Then turning to his wife. “Maggie, Ah think we could all use a dish of tea. So pull out a chair for our friend here.”
As Euphemia Weir settled herself comfortably at the table, Maggie glared at Fergus over the top of the woman’s head. Then with a hint of asperity in her voice Maggie said, “Honestly, Fergus Bell, small wonder ye’re a gifted Radical speaker, ye could charm the birds off the trees.”
A vigorous nodding of her head indicated that Euphemia Weir agreed with that very sentiment. And though Fergus had told her nothing, Maggie knew that his secret was assuredly safe with their gossipy neighbour.
January 1820
In the bleak days of January, before the planned departure with Sheena and her children, Maggie, determined to make one last attempt to change Fergus’s mind and have him take her and their children to Canada, enticed Fergus back to the marriage bed. But, just as Maggie thought she had succeeded in her ploy, Fergus announced his plans were unchanged and, come February, he and Sheena would set sail for Canada.
Chapter 11
On the day of their departure, Maggie let them leave the cottage in stony silence having not heard as much as word of apology from Fergus for abandoning her as he had those years ago dumped Sheena for her.
Scarcely had Fergus and his entourage left than Maggie, already suffering the agonies of doubt, indecision and the most hellish all-enveloping black cloud of guilt, would fain have called him back, back into her waiting arms. At one point, and although knowing it to be hopeless, and too little, too late, even so she went to the door and peered out. But the coal-cart with its load of hopeful emigrants and her own beloved husband had gone, long gone beyond any possible recall.
At the nearest end of the street, Maggie spotted a knot of gossiping women, one of whom sensing Maggie’s eyes on her, suddenly turned her head meaningfully in the direction of Maggie’s home.
Humph! So they’ve got hold of all the latest gossip already, have they? Thought Maggie. Here I am, my guid man has left me, gone off somewhere in the wilds to a new life with his first love, his childhood sweetheart Sheena and her brood of now fatherless bairns. And here am I left at the mercy of every sensation-seeking gossip-monger.
At these thoughts, determined not to give them fuel to add to their gossipy consultation, Maggie drew back her head, then equally hastily she shut the door before anyone would approach. She retreated into her now husbandless haven of the weaver’s cottage.
But tormented thoughts kept racing through her head. Why couldn’t I at least have embraced Fergus one last time, shaken hands with Sheena and bade them all God speed and a safe journey. It wouldn’t have killed me to do that and at least keep up the pretence that this entire plan has been to help Fergus escape the Law; to help the bereft Sheena and her family to a new life with free land out on the Prairies; to go along with the idea that yes, and all in good time, my
He finished by giving the elderly woman what Maggie could only describe as a decidedly flirtatious wink, at which point their neighbour blushed like a schoolgirl, preened herself and said, “Your secret is safe with me, Mr Bell. Ye can rest assured that my lips are sealed.”
Fergus nodded, patted her on the shoulder, smiled and said, “Ah just knew Ah could trust you. But listen, forget the Mister Bell, for anybody doing me such a great service as you, it’s Fergus.” Then turning to his wife. “Maggie, Ah think we could all use a dish of tea. So pull out a chair for our friend here.”
As Euphemia Weir settled herself comfortably at the table, Maggie glared at Fergus over the top of the woman’s head. Then with a hint of asperity in her voice Maggie said, “Honestly, Fergus Bell, small wonder ye’re a gifted Radical speaker, ye could charm the birds off the trees.”
A vigorous nodding of her head indicated that Euphemia Weir agreed with that very sentiment. And though Fergus had told her nothing, Maggie knew that his secret was assuredly safe with their gossipy neighbour.
January 1820
In the bleak days of January, before the planned departure with Sheena and her children, Maggie, determined to make one last attempt to change Fergus’s mind and have him take her and their children to Canada, enticed Fergus back to the marriage bed. But, just as Maggie thought she had succeeded in her ploy, Fergus announced his plans were unchanged and, come February, he and Sheena would set sail for Canada.
Chapter 11
On the day of their departure, Maggie let them leave the cottage in stony silence having not heard as much as word of apology from Fergus for abandoning her as he had those years ago dumped Sheena for her.
Scarcely had Fergus and his entourage left than Maggie, already suffering the agonies of doubt, indecision and the most hellish all-enveloping black cloud of guilt, would fain have called him back, back into her waiting arms. At one point, and although knowing it to be hopeless, and too little, too late, even so she went to the door and peered out. But the coal-cart with its load of hopeful emigrants and her own beloved husband had gone, long gone beyond any possible recall.
At the nearest end of the street, Maggie spotted a knot of gossiping women, one of whom sensing Maggie’s eyes on her, suddenly turned her head meaningfully in the direction of Maggie’s home.
Humph! So they’ve got hold of all the latest gossip already, have they? Thought Maggie. Here I am, my guid man has left me, gone off somewhere in the wilds to a new life with his first love, his childhood sweetheart Sheena and her brood of now fatherless bairns. And here am I left at the mercy of every sensation-seeking gossip-monger.
At these thoughts, determined not to give them fuel to add to their gossipy consultation, Maggie drew back her head, then equally hastily she shut the door before anyone would approach. She retreated into her now husbandless haven of the weaver’s cottage.
But tormented thoughts kept racing through her head. Why couldn’t I at least have embraced Fergus one last time, shaken hands with Sheena and bade them all God speed and a safe journey. It wouldn’t have killed me to do that and at least keep up the pretence that this entire plan has been to help Fergus escape the Law; to help the bereft Sheena and her family to a new life with free land out on the Prairies; to go along with the idea that yes, and all in good time, my
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