“She’d hardly go walking in the mountains when she was nine months pregnant. Or, for that matter, find a soldier willing to take her there.”

Oliver grunted. “I’m just saying that mothers don’t always know their daughters. Lady Maude may think what she pleases. The fact is, it’s not proof of anything.”

“Why were you and the authorities prepared to arrest this local woman? London gave me the outline of the case, little more.”

Oliver thought it over, then said, “It was this way. The anonymous letters started in June, as far as we can tell. And what I found curious about the dozen or so brought to my attention is that people believed them. At any rate, her neighbors began to shun Mrs. MacLeod, as she called herself then. A few of them finally stepped forward, taking the letters to the minister, Mr. Elliot, but not to ask if the accusations were true or not. They were more concerned about their own souls. And after some thought and prayer, Mr. Elliot came to the police.”

“The letters fell on fertile ground, then. Why? Was this woman not liked or accepted in Duncarrick?”

“If you’d asked me just a few months ago, I’d have said she was well liked. I never heard of any problems—moral or otherwise. And I hear most things. The general feeling seems to be that the young woman must have lied to her aunt, because Ealasaid MacCallum was an upright woman who would never have countenanced a falsehood told to her acquaintance. She’d have been the first to say ‘My niece has gotten herself into trouble, but I’ve brought her here to give her a chance to repent and atone. It’s my Christian duty.’ And people would have respected that, you see.”

Hamish said, “Aye, that’s the way it would ha’ been done.”

But without compassion, Rutledge responded. A cold and judging second chance.

Oliver went on. “Mr. Elliot then told me privately that a number of people had spoken to him about the young woman. Before the letters started. One man found himself tempted by her and was afraid for his soul. A young woman saw in her an instrument of the devil because she had turned the head of a young man who frequented the inn. Another woman found her far too warm to the child, saying that it was no way to bring up a lad. ‘Spare the rod’ was the message. And Mr. Elliot had already tried to speak to Miss MacDonald about her attendance at services. She’d told him that her duties at the inn sometimes kept her up late and she’d found it hard to be prompt on those Sunday mornings. He had thought at the time that it was not a proper excuse.”