some volunteers.”
“We will run cattle and sheep on the new lands and put most of Braemoor into grain, build our own mill. The crofters can have gardens of their own and keep all but ten percent, which will come to me.” He hesitated, then added, “Eventually, I want to enable them to purchase their land for a fair price.”
Jock’s eyes widened. He dropped his caution. “Are ye flummoxing me?”
“Nay, Jock. I have too much land for any one man. I ha‘ no children to leave it to. I want it in the hands of those who’ve worked it all these years.”
Jock stared at him in shock.
“This last is between you and me for the time,” Neil said. “My hold on Braemoor may be tenuous. I do not want word reaching Cumberland and give him reason to suspect my loyalty to his wishes.”
Jock nodded, still obviously dazed. Still not altogether comprehending.
“Will you talk to the other tenantsexcept about the sale of land?”
“How do I know ye will keep your word?” Jock said.
It was an unusually brave thing for a tacksman to say, and Neil respected him for it. “I shall put it in writing if you wish,” he said. “It will be a contract.”
“I donna put much stock in that,” Jock replied. “The nobs always find a way around it.”
Neil had to smile. That had been his experience, too. “What would you like?”
“I will have to think on it.”
“Then you do that. Jock. And talk to the others. Will you do that?”
Jock hesitated, then said grudgingly, “No harm in tha‘.”
“Now will you drink with me?” Neil asked.
Neil found himself going to the cottage once inhabited by Mary Forbes, who had grown herbs for the tower and for the nearby village. It had a deserted, forlorn look. He knew he should give it to someone; it was a waste such as it was. But it held secrets that he’d been loathe to give up.
The furniture was still in place, even plates and cups. It had been rumored that Mary was a witch, and no one had wished to test the theory. The devil looked after his own.
The fact that she’d completely disappeared, along with the village blacksmith and Neil’s own cousin had created no end of speculation. Had the blacksmith and herb grower been involved with the Black Knave? Had they been partly responsible for the death of Rory, the Marquis of Braemoor? No one but Neil knew that Rory and the Black Knave were one and the same. It was a secret he would take to the grave.
The key to the secret was the clothes hidden beneath the dirt floor of the cottage in a secret compartment. Neil had thought many times about destroying it. If Cumberland ever discovered that he’d been outfoxed by the Forbeses, both Neil’s own neck and the estates would be forfeit. And yet... yet...
He brushed aside the dirt, finding the boards that covered the cache. He pulled them up and looked inside. A black cloak, black trousers and shirt were there, along with a British uniform. And a deck of cards.
Neil had found several other decks in Rory’s chamber. He’d destroyed those. Now he picked up this deck.
New
. His fingers went through them, pausing at the queen of hearts. He closed his eyes.
How he envied Rory who had
his
heart queen, the lovely Bethia.
Neil very carefully replaced all but the deck of cards. He tucked the deck into his belt.
Then he covered the cache and went to the door, pausing only a moment before closing the door on his regrets.
Every muscle in Janet’s body ached.
True to her word, she’d put on her oldest dress and had helped the boy muck out stalls all day. For a while, at least, the animals would have some comfort. She’d also found a chest of coins, and she’d ordered oats.
Then she went back into the house. She said a quiet thanks that she’d encountered neither Marjorie nor Reginald’s wife, Louisa. They no doubt would regard her with horror. They would, in any event, when they heard that she had worked in the stables. But she felt a surge of satisfaction. She had
“We will run cattle and sheep on the new lands and put most of Braemoor into grain, build our own mill. The crofters can have gardens of their own and keep all but ten percent, which will come to me.” He hesitated, then added, “Eventually, I want to enable them to purchase their land for a fair price.”
Jock’s eyes widened. He dropped his caution. “Are ye flummoxing me?”
“Nay, Jock. I have too much land for any one man. I ha‘ no children to leave it to. I want it in the hands of those who’ve worked it all these years.”
Jock stared at him in shock.
“This last is between you and me for the time,” Neil said. “My hold on Braemoor may be tenuous. I do not want word reaching Cumberland and give him reason to suspect my loyalty to his wishes.”
Jock nodded, still obviously dazed. Still not altogether comprehending.
“Will you talk to the other tenantsexcept about the sale of land?”
“How do I know ye will keep your word?” Jock said.
It was an unusually brave thing for a tacksman to say, and Neil respected him for it. “I shall put it in writing if you wish,” he said. “It will be a contract.”
“I donna put much stock in that,” Jock replied. “The nobs always find a way around it.”
Neil had to smile. That had been his experience, too. “What would you like?”
“I will have to think on it.”
“Then you do that. Jock. And talk to the others. Will you do that?”
Jock hesitated, then said grudgingly, “No harm in tha‘.”
“Now will you drink with me?” Neil asked.
Neil found himself going to the cottage once inhabited by Mary Forbes, who had grown herbs for the tower and for the nearby village. It had a deserted, forlorn look. He knew he should give it to someone; it was a waste such as it was. But it held secrets that he’d been loathe to give up.
The furniture was still in place, even plates and cups. It had been rumored that Mary was a witch, and no one had wished to test the theory. The devil looked after his own.
The fact that she’d completely disappeared, along with the village blacksmith and Neil’s own cousin had created no end of speculation. Had the blacksmith and herb grower been involved with the Black Knave? Had they been partly responsible for the death of Rory, the Marquis of Braemoor? No one but Neil knew that Rory and the Black Knave were one and the same. It was a secret he would take to the grave.
The key to the secret was the clothes hidden beneath the dirt floor of the cottage in a secret compartment. Neil had thought many times about destroying it. If Cumberland ever discovered that he’d been outfoxed by the Forbeses, both Neil’s own neck and the estates would be forfeit. And yet... yet...
He brushed aside the dirt, finding the boards that covered the cache. He pulled them up and looked inside. A black cloak, black trousers and shirt were there, along with a British uniform. And a deck of cards.
Neil had found several other decks in Rory’s chamber. He’d destroyed those. Now he picked up this deck.
New
. His fingers went through them, pausing at the queen of hearts. He closed his eyes.
How he envied Rory who had
his
heart queen, the lovely Bethia.
Neil very carefully replaced all but the deck of cards. He tucked the deck into his belt.
Then he covered the cache and went to the door, pausing only a moment before closing the door on his regrets.
Every muscle in Janet’s body ached.
True to her word, she’d put on her oldest dress and had helped the boy muck out stalls all day. For a while, at least, the animals would have some comfort. She’d also found a chest of coins, and she’d ordered oats.
Then she went back into the house. She said a quiet thanks that she’d encountered neither Marjorie nor Reginald’s wife, Louisa. They no doubt would regard her with horror. They would, in any event, when they heard that she had worked in the stables. But she felt a surge of satisfaction. She had
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