Marched up the High Street like a common criminal, along with three of the other accused women, she was thrown into a dank and dingy room on the first floor of the Tolbooth. She learned later it was where Beatrix had been kept. All it contained was a chair, a table and some fouled straw. When they were able to open it, the window let in light and air. She shared the space with Nettie, Isobel and Nicolas. According to Alick the keeper, Janet, Lillie Wallace, Margaret Jack, and even Thomas Brown had also been named. Thomas Brown. What had that kindly man ever done to stand so accused — apart from own shares in one of the larger boats. Alick said they’d been put in the cell on the lower floor.

The suspects were separated not only to fit them into the small, fusty rooms more readily, but to prevent them colluding — whether in innocence or malfeasance wasn’t specified. All Sorcha knew was she should be grateful she wasn’t on the ground floor of the Tolbooth. In her cell, they at least had fresh air. The window of the room directly below had a loose grate, and so was sealed shut lest the prisoners escape. When the rains were heavy, water trickled through the cracks and pooled on the floor. It hadn’t stopped raining since they’d been incarcerated, as if the skies were lamenting their plight.

But it was poor Beatrix who was made to suffer the most. Taken from the Tolbooth first to the Morton house, she was later delivered to the dark and windowless hole beneath the church known as St Fillan’s Cave, a former smugglers’ storehouse. For her sins, Beatrix was to suffer in darkness and solitude. Her only visitors, apart from the guards who brought a little food and water, were the reverend and the bailies.

Mr Bollard, the pricker, was too busy for Beatrix. He was now concentrating on those locked in the Tolbooth.

Sorcha tried not to think about that.

Instead, she sent her thoughts and prayers winging to Beatrix. The cave was narrow and cold with a low, uneven rock ceiling and weeping walls. Sorcha’s da had taken her there one time to fetch some tea and claret. Brought over from France by sailors wishing to avoid the usual excise, the goods had been hidden deep within, away from the eyes of the government officials who patrolled the coast, waiting to be resold to gentry and merchants on surrounding estates and in the city. It wasn’t uncommon for locals to purchase some of the booty. Since Patrick Cowper’s arrival, not only had the smuggling ceased, but the cave was used to imprison the worst offenders, to break them utterly. Rumour had it you could enter it from the church, so no one even knew you were there. Every night Sorcha prayed Beatrix would survive this, that they all would.