Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Patrick persisted, ‘Did she not admit Nicolas Lawson was her co-conspirator?’
‘Aye, she did,’ agreed Bailie Bell. ‘But look at her.’ He gestured to Beatrix, but failed to follow his own command. ‘The woman was under duress. She was… suffering —’
‘Does not Peter Morton?’ replied Patrick. ‘Does he not lie there day after day, racked with pain and filled with torment?’
‘Aye, but —’
‘But? But?’ Patrick spat, his face puce, his eyes bulging. His hands were balled by his side. ‘But what? Do you not want to put a stop to this before we lose control? Before the devil and his witches run amok?’
‘But you heard the protests outside. The calls for a greater authority than us to wield judgement.’
‘I heard no such thing,’ said Patrick, trying to regain his composure. Och, he’d heard them all right and he knew the voices — Sorcha McIntyre, Janet Horseburgh and that damned Captain Ross among others. If only Beatrix had named those women… He could not think on that, not yet. He mustn’t move too fast. He needed the support of these men, either that, or their fear. What he didn’t need was their doubt, their enmity.
‘I did,’ said Bailie Cook quietly. Bailie Bell clamped a hand on his shoulder.
‘As did I,’ said Bailie Bell firmly, raising his head to meet the reverend’s cool gaze. ‘Just as I heard what Captain Ross said to the Tolbooth keeper. He has a point. As Bailie Whyte keeps reminding us,’ he glanced meaningfully at the man’s vacant chair, its occupant conveniently called away on business that morning, ‘the courts in Edinburgh don’t look too kindly on local authorities administering justice, especially in cases of this nature.’
‘Let’s call it what it is,’ said Bailie Cook, moving slightly so Bell was forced to remove his hand, ‘a case of suspected witchcraft.’ He frowned as he looked at the unconscious woman, a look of pity dawning on his face.
It wouldn’t do. Patrick huffed and folded his arms, moving to stand between the bailies and the broken Beatrix Laing. ‘What do you suggest then?’
Bailie Bell took a deep breath. ‘I suggest that before we proceed any further, we search Mrs Laing’s house for this image. Hers and Mrs Lawson’s. In the meantime, we send to Edinburgh. If there is witchcraft at work here as Mrs Laing claims, then at the very least we need advice on how to proceed. How to work within the law.’