BooksBarbecue
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

In the meantime, acting on the advice of the reverend (and Sorcha knew what that meant), the remaining council members ignored Edinburgh’s directive to help Beatrix. They replied declaring that they couldn’t provide a bond to protect Beatrix Laing against any rabble that might assault her, because ‘she may be murthered in the night without their knowledge’.

The hypocrisy infuriated Sorcha. They refused to offer surety for Beatrix because anyone might kill her at any time and they’d know naught about it.

Visiting Beatrix in Anster that afternoon, bringing her much-needed news and messages of support, Sorcha was content that her friend at least was safe. Happy was too much to expect when she was torn from her home, worried about her husband, and in danger.

Reaching the outskirts of Pittenweem, Sorcha adjusted her creel and decided to continue along the foreshore. It might be cold, but at least here, closer to the wall, the spray wasn’t so bad or the wind so wild. Directly in front of her were the rounded shapes of the western braes, where Thomas Brown’s body had been so carelessly thrown before it disappeared. Janet had suffered the ignominy of a shallow grave. Three days after she’d been consigned to the dirt, her sister, cousins and neighbours, with help from Mr Adam and Nicolas’s husband, had crept up one night and dug up her body for burial elsewhere. Sorcha had donated coin to help pay for a service, but that was all. The family wouldn’t allow her to do more. They didn’t want anyone to know where Janet was laid to rest, lest they also be punished should they be caught.

The reverend and council had been furious but, in this instance, they’d also been impotent. A situation Sorcha knew the reverend would find intolerable; if he could, he would make someone pay. The notion filled her with disquiet.

She wondered if it was thoughts of the reverend that made her finally turn away from the sea and wander up Cove Wynd. Walking past the houses, she could see the glow of lanterns and candles, smell the peat burning in hearths and see the flicker of shadows as folk moved by the curtained windows. There was conversation, some laughter. In one house an argument raged and a cheeky bairn demanded attention. Passing St Fillan’s Cave, she thought of those who’d wasted months in there, first Beatrix, then Janet. Only one had survived — and was currently in exile. All because of superstition, fear, spite, and something so deep and dark Sorcha was too afraid to prod it.