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
About to continue on, something held her back. Sure enough, the reverend remained, staring in her direction. Had he heard her? Seen her? Her heart was thumping loud enough to accompany pipes. Forcing herself to keep utterly still, she tried to fix on him. Praying he wasn’t heading home just yet, that he wouldn’t pass her hiding place, she stayed where she was, growing colder even while sweat slipped between her breasts.
Finally, with a shake of his head, he turned and re-entered the Tolbooth, closing the door behind him.
Sorcha waited a few minutes longer, then finally peeled herself away from the wall and retraced her steps back towards the harbour. She would walk the long way home tonight, back along the seashore and past the old priory, and think about what she’d just seen.
She didn’t doubt that it boded no good for the Weem. No good for her and the other fishwives.
Upon reaching the harbourfront, she wasted no more time but adjusted her creel, picked up her skirts and, throwing caution aside, ran.
Fifty-Eight
FIFTY-EIGHT
That’s the end o’ an auld sang.
(Something familiar has gone forever.)
Only once she reached the safety of her cottage did Sorcha relax. She closed the door, leaned against it, and expelled the air from her lungs.
‘I was about to come looking for you,’ said Nettie, peeling her arms out of the coat she’d been in the middle of donning. ‘What took you so long, hen? Is everything all right in Anster?’
They’d agreed it would arouse suspicion if both of them had gone to Anster to sell fish, let alone visited Rebecca, so Nettie had remained in the Weem.
Unwrapping her shawl and draping it near the fire to dry, Sorcha shook her head as if to clear it. ‘You’re not going to believe what I just witnessed.’
‘Before you tell me that,’ said Nettie, patting the chair opposite, ‘sit and tell me how Beatrix fares. How’s my daughter?’
As Sorcha swiftly explained Beatrix was safe, there was no sign of her having been followed, and how welcome she’d been made to feel, Nettie smiled.
‘We were right to send her away. You ken the council are still looking for her?’
Taking the cup of tea Nettie proffered, Sorcha looked at her quizzically. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because guards came here.’
Sorcha put down her cup slowly. ‘Again? They didn’t hurt you?’
Nettie waved a hand in the air as she sat down, taking off her boots. ‘Nae, hen. Threatened, aye, but it was from them I learned that on the morrow they’re going further afield. Seems the reverend’s determined to find Beatrix. Claims he’s concerned for her welfare.’
Sorcha snorted, then drained her tea and put the cup down carefully. ‘He can be as determined as he likes, soon it won’t matter.’
‘How so?’