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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
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

What he could do with ten pounds! Who on God’s good earth couldn’t use such an amount these days? Unless, of course, they were the Queen with a royal treasury at her disposal. Or Laird Bairnscliff with his numerous houses. Or Mr Craigieburn, who owned more sheep and ships than a man had a right to yet couldn’t find it within his tight-arsed heart to donate enough to repair the roof of the kirk.

‘Come away with you,’ he called out to whoever was knocking. It wasn’t loud, just persistent, like a spoiled child demanding attention. Maybe it wasn’t those rough-looking soldiers after all. Maybe it was a bairn seeking shelter from the elements.

He reached the door and unlatched it, offering a prayer of forgiveness as he did. He knew he shouldn’t be locking the door, but after finding that family slumbering away inside over Hogmanay, and the fire they’d lit at the base of the pulpit, well, he didn’t want to risk just anybody entering.

‘Dear God!’ exclaimed Reverend Gordon, as a body fell back against his feet. ‘What have we here?’

Two grey-blue eyes in a weather-bitten face stared up at him. ‘A wretch that seeks your help and that of the good Lord.’ The voice quavered with misery.

Offering a hand, he helped the woman sit up. The poor thing was filthy and she smelled of the outdoors and something less palatable. She was nithered from being out in the weather, shaking like a half-drowned kitten. Her hands, which she’d wrapped with cloth she’d clearly torn from her skirt, were reddened and callused. Her lips and cheeks were cracked, her breath foul. Her boots were also held together with strips of fabric and he could see grey toes and torn, grubby nails where her stockings had worn away.

‘Well, lass,’ he called her, even though she looked old enough and thin enough to be his grandmother — and she dead these last ten years, God bless her. ‘You’ve come to the right place. The Lord will protect you and so will I. Now, come away in and let’s get some food and a drink into you. Then, if you can, I want you to tell me what it is that’s brought you all the way out here to Leuchars on such a plashin’ day.’

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Janet could scarce believe her good fortune. Relatively clean, wrapped in warm blankets and placed by a roaring fire, she sat with a whisky in one hand and a freshly baked bannock in the other. It was like she’d died and gone to God’s good heaven. Not that there was a bad one, she supposed.