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Back The Darkest Shore
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It was to the blackness that Beatrix now surrendered herself as she thought of her friends in the Tolbooth. Lying down, she shut her eyes and, refusing to think about Patrick Cowper or his menacing words, allowed their bright beautiful images to parade across her night — burnished copper, roses, turquoises, greys and chestnuts, all accompanied by the golden strains of laughter.

Twenty-Four

TWENTY-FOUR

image

He speired the guts oot ’o of me.

(He asked too many inquisitive questions.)

Captain Aidan Ross entered the reverend’s study gathering what remained of his forbearance. As he closed the door, he took in the room and the tableau of men before him. Rather than the austere space he’d been expecting, the reverend’s study was luxurious, with polished wood, plushly upholstered chairs and thick curtains. The large hearth blazed despite the sunshine outside. Many framed pictures hung upon the walls, as did a large arras, and provided a sumptuousness he hadn’t expected from the aloof, reedy man dressed in black who sat behind the big desk at the end of the room.

Aidan schooled his face and approached. Light filtered in from two windows to his right, framed by dark blue curtains. The road outside could be seen clearly as he crossed the floor, his boots soundless on the rugs. Almost everyone who passed glanced up at the Tolbooth. It had taken on a new significance in the past weeks.

The reverend cleared his throat and, rising to his feet, scraped his chair back across the boards. From the half-empty glasses and thickness of pipe smoke above the desk, the papers, ink and tidy pile of quill shavings upon it, the men had been deliberating a while. Aidan was determined to discover what they had been discussing.

On either side of the minister, looking as if they’d been peering over his shoulders before he interrupted them, stood bailies Cook and Bell, secular bookends for this holy man.

A less holy man, Aidan thought as he traversed the room and bowed, he was unlikely to meet. The skeletal face wore a blank expression and a wry smile curved the thin lips. The skin was sallow, broken veins crawling up hollow cheeks. The outlandish eyes missed nothing, much as they attempted to appear indifferent to having an officer of the Queen in his manse.