At that point, the young man did not know what had happened the day before, but when they were back indoors, Mathew and Lizzie took him into the private parlour and told him that his family’s fortunes had changed, and how it had happened. Lizzie described the confrontation with Cleland with relish, and in detail.

  Matt was as stunned by the development as his mother had been but he smiled broadly when she told him how Mathew had repaid the baronet’s insult.

  ‘You did that?’ he exclaimed. ‘Where did you learn such a thing?’

  ‘Lad, I did not become a sergeant in the Cameron Highlanders by being a milksop,’ he replied. ‘Times I had to stand my ground, and some things, once learned, are never forgotten.’

  ‘Will you teach me?’

  ‘When your mother is elsewhere, perhaps.’ Mathew held the young man’s gaze. ‘That brings me to a question I would put to you. If she and I were to marry at some point in the near future, would you have any objection?’

  The smile left Matt’s face. ‘I would only object if you did not. The night before he died, Faither told me I should look after you both. It will make it a damn sight easier for me if you are man and wife.’

  Mathew shook his hand, formally, man to man. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘We were thinking of a time around St Valentine’s Day.’

  ‘I was thinking of tomorrow,’ Matt countered, smiling once more. ‘If we are all to move into Cleland Hall in a month, I would rather not have to stand outside my mother’s door to keep to propriety.’

  ‘Hey, boy,’ Lizzie chided, ‘would that be to keep him out or keep me in? Make no male assumptions about your answer.’

  That was forestalled by Mathew. ‘The banns must be called on three Sundays,’ he said. ‘That means,’ he did a quick mental calculation, ‘any time after January the eleventh. You have time to be measured for a suit, but not that much.’

  Their news added the final touch to the celebration. Mathew found goose too fatty for his taste and so he had ordered the cook to prepare roast beef, preceded by broth, and trout, fresh caught from Lanark Loch, and followed by a rich dark pudding, flamed in brandy and served with cream.

  When it was over, and young Matt had driven off to Carluke in Hannah’s little coach, to take Jane Fisher her present, Lizzie and Matt returned to the private parlour.

  ‘Is all this haste too much?’ he asked, an arm around her waist as they stood by the window, watching Marshall and Jean playing in the snow in the last of the fast-fading daylight.

  She turned to him. ‘Too much?’ she murmured. ‘Draw the curtains a little, lock the door and I’ll show you. What Matt doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  MATHEW FLEMING AND LIZZIE McGill were married by John Barclay, in Carluke Parish Church, on January the fourteenth, before a small, invited congregation that included all those who had attended David’s funeral, with the addition of Sheriff Robin Stirling, in response to the bride’s personal invitation.

  Philip Armitage was there also; there had been several meetings with the factor in Waterloo House during the days since Christmas. He was sixty-three years old, and had come to the first meeting fearing for his position, but as soon as he had been reassured he was helpful, giving a summary of the financial position of the estate, which was not as bad as Mathew had feared.

  The man had been a prudent manager and during Sir George’s tenure he had built up a capital reserve, which he had managed to keep out of the sight of his sons.

  ‘I knew what they were from the beginning, Mr Fleming,’ he said, ‘but the old Laird would not be told. He knew of their imperfections but he trusted me to keep the estate safe from their bad habits, as I did, if only just . . . with, I might add, David McGill’s considerable assistance.’

  ‘Explain to us, in that case,’ Lizzie said, ‘why David was dismissed?’

  ‘Sir Gregor ordered it; I argued against it, but I was given no leeway. It is my belief that Gavin made him do it. You should understand that while Gregor was the older and the heir, he was always under Gavin’s control. Gregor had a wee bit of his father in him, but Gavin has only the devil. It is my belief that he saw David’s dismissal as a blow against you, Mr Fleming. He has a hatred of you, and an intense jealousy, that strikes me as quite irrational.’

  ‘And how is he now?’ Mathew asked.

  ‘Brooding, I would say. He is keeping to his personal quarters, for I have forbidden him access to the rest of the house while the inventory is completed.’

  ‘Including the wine cellar?’

  ‘He is allowed one bottle of wine a day and one bottle of whisky, my theory being that he is easier to manage drunk than sober.’

  ‘And the inventory?’

  ‘There are several items missing,’ Armitage replied. ‘Principally the books, but also a few small paintings and some statuary. The major works of art, the Titians, a Canaletto, a Holbein and three paintings by Rembrandt, they are all safe and locked away, to avoid the risk of vindictive damage. What would you have me do with them when Sir Gavin is gone?’

  ‘Are they very valuable?’ Lizzie asked.

  He nodded.

  She looked at Mathew. ‘I have no appreciation of art. What do you say?’

  ‘Is there a need to sell, Philip?’ he asked the factor.

  ‘Given the projected income from the livestock sales, and the quarterly rents being due soon from the tenants, I would say no.’

  ‘Then we should keep them, Lizzie, apart from one of the Dutchman’s which we should sell at auction in London, to pay for the necessary refurbishment of the hall. The rest will never become less valuable than they are, and if our heirs are taxed on our estate when we die, they will be a useful nest egg.’

  ‘I am glad you understand these things,’ she sighed, ‘for . . .’

  He laughed. ‘I know . . . for you are only a simple village shopkeeper. Thank you, Philip,’ he said. ‘I look forward to our new relationship.’

  Two days after the wedding, and eight before Gavin Cleland was bound to leave the estate, Mathew had a lunchtime visitor. Paul Johnston had been a wedding guest, but without news to relate, so his reappearance on the following Friday came as a great surprise, not least because he had braved the howling winds that were sweeping across the countryside, so strong they had even persuaded Mathew to work at home that day. Lizzie, however, new bride or not, had opened the shop as usual.

  ‘They are found,’ the solicitor exclaimed, as soon as the two were alone. ‘The women are found!’

  ‘Great news!’ Mathew exclaimed. ‘How and where? Tell me.’

  ‘They were a little careless,’ Johnston replied. ‘Only a little but it was enough. They used their own names not the aliases they normally went by around Leith docks . . . English Lottie and Fat Judy, apparently . . . and Miss Smith does indeed come from Knutsford, in Cheshire.

  ‘An agent made enquiries there and was told that the city of Liverpool might be a place to look. He searched there for some time, until he met a man, an iron worker, to whom the names were familiar, and was sent to another port nearby, called Birkenhead. It took him little time to find them there, the owners of a cathouse which they purchased with money given them, they said, by a gentleman acquaintance in Scotland.

  ‘My man showed your warrant to the local constabulary, and asked that they be held. They are now under lock and key, and awaiting your pleasure. What will it be?’

  ‘Paul, you are the most tenacious man I know,’ Mathew exclaimed. ‘Eat with me now, and then we must go to Lanark to see the Sheriff. When he hears your story, he will issue his own warrant, and send his own men to bring these tarts before him.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  MATHEW SAID NOTHING TO Lizzie, but on the following Tuesday morning he was so preoccupied that she had to tell him twice that her monthly visit from an old acquaintance was four days overdue.

  ‘How sure is that?’ he asked, his attention finally captured.

  ‘Not at all yet, but give it another four weeks and it will be. My God,’ she grinned, ‘if you had rung the bell as quickly in eighteen twelve, what would have become of us?’

  ‘Mother would have coped and in time David would have had a stepchild,’ he replied, ‘for I was bound into the army, and could have been shot if I’d run away in wartime. Look after this one, if it is to be. Here,’ he exclaimed as the consequences struck him, ‘Matt may have to take over the shop.’

  ‘Let us just be patient though,’ she said, ‘. . . if that is possible for you, for you’re like a hen on a hot griddle this morning.’

  ‘I am,’ he admitted. ‘I have a meeting with Robin, in Lanark, at ten o’clock, and I must not be late. Will you stay home from the shop today?’

  ‘No, not at all. There is no need yet, nor will there be for months.’

  ‘Then I’ll take you myself, in the wee carriage and go on from there.’

  He drove her briskly to Carluke. Matt was still living in the house beside the shop, with his parents’ blessing. He was beyond his years in maturity and they trusted him completely not to engage in any foolishness, not that there was anyone to lead him astray. He had never forgiven the boys who had deserted him on the day of Gregor Cleland’s death, and they were all sensible enough to avoid him like the plague. Jane Fisher was his only close companion, and she was well chaperoned, with her family home close by.

  ‘Keep an eye on your mother,’ Mathew told him, quietly, as he dropped Lizzie off. ‘If she seems faint in any way, insist that she sits down.’

  ‘Is she unwell?’

  ‘Far from it, but do as I ask anyway.’

  He left for Lanark and was there within three minutes of the appointed time. The Sheriff’s clerk showed him straight into his chambers, where Stirling was waiting, wearing his shrieval gown and wig.

  ‘You are very formal,’ Mathew remarked. ‘Will you see them in court?’

  ‘No, they will be brought here, but I want them to know that this is a judicial matter.’

  ‘Do you want me to leave?’

  ‘Hell no, I want you to question them, as aggressively as you like. The clerk will bring them from the cell they have been in overnight, now that you are here.’

  He had barely finished speaking when the door opened and the two women were bustled into the room, announced by their escort, each in turn. Charlotte Smith was the blonde, Judith Stout the redhead, although the former’s hair had an unnaturally brassy tinge. They were untidy and smelled the worse for their night under lock and key, and for their long journey.

  ‘Stand before the Sheriff and the King’s Deputy Lieutenant!’ Martin Knox barked. They did as the clerk ordered, facing the two men across the table. Fat Judy looked uncertain, but English Lottie had a defiant gleam in her eye.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now we will find out why two honest women have been taken from their ’ome without rhyme or reason or just cause.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ Stirling snapped. ‘Your role here is to answer, mine to judge you.’

  ‘And this gen’leman? Gawd, he looks like a pirate we ’ad in our house last week.’

  ‘I am your inquisitor, Miss Smith,’ Mathew said. ‘I will begin by commiserating with you on your loss, but congratulating you on your obvious recovery from the shock it caused you.’

  ‘Well, thank you, sir.’

  ‘For how long were you affianced to Sir Gregor Cleland?’ he asked.

  ‘Two weeks,’ she shot back.

  ‘Two whole weeks? That is strange, for normally betrothals of people of substance are advertised in the newspapers and gazettes, and yet I have found no mention of that engagement.’

  ‘Poor Gregor,’ she sighed. ‘He was so in love he must ’ave forgot.’

  ‘Are you sure it was Gregor to whom you were pledged, and not Gavin? After all they were twins, and you did fuck them both.’ He fixed his eye on the other woman. ‘Is that not the case, Miss Stout? You should know, you were there too.’

  ‘Sir, I don’t know what . . .’ she stammered

  ‘That is a wicked bleedin’ lie!’ Smith shouted.

  ‘Spoken like a true gentlewoman,’ Sheriff Stirling said, coolly. ‘That is how you described yourself in your affidavit to the Crown Agent, is it not?’ He picked up a folder, bound in pink ribbon, then slammed it back down on the table. ‘I know, for I have your statements here, the description of the murder of Gregor Cleland that condemned a man to death. Do you stand by them now?’

  ‘Every word,’ the blonde insisted, stubbornly. The redhead said nothing.

  ‘That’s what happened, is it, Judy?’ Mathew asked. ‘Gregor Cleland whipped a young man for insolence.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Stout replied.

  ‘And at that the boy’s father attacked Gavin Cleland, seized his pistol, and shot Gregor dead, leaving both of you fine ladies in fear of your lives?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘How long have you been Miss Smith’s maid, Judy?’

  ‘Err . . . two years.’ Her answer sounded more like a question.

  ‘So all the time that the pair of you worked in a brothel in Leith you were actually in disguise. She played the part of English Lottie and you were Fat Judy, yet really you were gentlewomen in disguise?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Stout’s face seemed to freeze.

  ‘Do you know what perjury is, Judy?’

  ‘N- no, sir.’

  ‘It is making a false statement under oath, and it is a crime. The punishment is severe in normal circumstances, but when perjured evidence causes a man to be executed, that is another matter entirely. Where does the perjurer stand then, Sheriff?’

  ‘At the bar of the High Court,’ Stirling said solemnly, ‘indicted on the charge of murder.’

  Mathew began to rub his neck, slowly. ‘Will I tell you what happened to the man that you accused, ladies? They sentenced him to death. Three days later they took him up to the Lawnmarket and in front of a great crowd they hanged him. And that man was a friend of mine, a very good friend.’ He looked back at English Lottie, and saw that she was licking her lips, and massaging her own neck.

  ‘Do either of you think,’ he asked, ‘that we are too humane in Scotland to hang a woman, or even hang them two at a time on the same scaffold?’

  Judith Stout began to cry.

  ‘The Sheriff believes that there is enough evidence to bring such a charge against you two, and that you will be convicted. Here and now, in this room, you have the chance to save your lives, but it may not come again. So tell me, Lottie, where did you get the money, the two of you, to buy your whorehouse in Birkenhead?’

  She nodded. ‘I know when I’m beat,’ she said. ‘If we tell you, what will happen to us?’

  ‘You will be Crown witnesses and immune from prosecution for that crime,’ Stirling told her.

  ‘In that case, Gavin gave us the money, for saying that the man shot his brother.’

  ‘Who did shoot him?’

  ‘Gavin did, ’imself, of course. The young lad, he did nothing; it was an accident that the ’orse got spooked, but Gregor whipped ’im across the face anyway. The man, ’is father you said, pulled him off the carriage and set about ’im. He wasn’t ’itting him very ’ard; you could see ’e wasn’t a brawler. That was when Gavin shot him.’

  ‘By mistake? Was he aiming at Mr McGill?’

  Lottie smiled. ‘No. Even I’d ’ave hit him from that range if I’d meant to. He took careful aim and he shot Gregor. Then he hit the man with the gun and bundled Gregor’s body on to the carriage, tied his own ’orse to it and drove us all off.’

  ‘Did he take the pistol with him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You are certain of that?’

  ‘As certain can be.’

  ‘And do you agree with that, Judy?’ Mathew asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she snuffled, ‘that’s what ’appened.’

  ‘How much did he pay you to lie?’

  ‘Two hundred and fifty pound,’ Smith said. ‘That buys you a lot in Birkenhead.’

  Mathew looked at Stirling. ‘Well?’

  The Sheriff nodded. ‘Ladies,’ he said, ‘I am going to summon an official called the procurator fiscal. Under oath you will give new statements, and then you will be held in custody until you have given evidence in the High Court. You may sit now.’

  He turned to his friend. ‘You have what you promised, justice for David McGill. Gavin Cleland is for the Lawnmarket, no question about it. As soon as I have drawn up the warrant, I will send Dunlop now to arrest him.

  ‘I hope he enjoys his lunch, for it will be his last decent meal. He will never breathe free air again, and fairly soon, no air at all, after the noose draws tight.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  AS HE LEFT THE old Sheriff Court building, and climbed into the small covered coach, Mathew experienced a strange feeling of emptiness.

  Over half a year’s pursuit was over, and all of his goals, save one, had been achieved. He had expected elation but none came. Instead he contemplated the fate he had secured for Gavin Cleland, and saw for the first time how cruel his pursuit of vengeance had been.

  Yes, he had been more successful than he had dared to dream. Yes, the murderer was utterly ruined. Yes, the pledge he had made before the scaffold would be fulfilled.

  He had done it for Lizzie, he had done it for Matt and Jean, and he had done it for himself, but what of David? Would his friend have wanted to be avenged in such a ruthless, obsessive and downright ungodly manner?

  Then a truth came home to him. Just as Gavin Cleland had bought the perjured evidence that covered up his own crime, so had he bought the means of the man’s certain conviction.

  No bribes had been paid, but his funding of the three gamblers had been a conspiracy of sorts. On the other hand, without his resources, Lucy Douglas would have become Lady Cleland, while English Lottie and Fat Judy would have gone on undisturbed in their whorehouse in Birkenhead, rewarded for their part in David’s judicial murder.