Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [186]
“And am I supposed to believe that of all the officers in London this person Harvey was the only one capable of leading a convoy to Haddington?”
“Harvey,” said Lord Grey with an effort, “is a very able man. I’m sorry, since you take such an interest in him, that you can’t meet him. A slight wound made it necessary for him to stay at Haddington.”
The black eyes were sparkling. “I do take an interest in him, as it happens. I came here expressly to make sure that he returned to London directly. I believe Mr. Palmer leaves you today?”
Lord Grey agreed that Harvey’s cousin was due to leave Berwick for London.
“Then I hope he can take to His Grace the assurance that Mr. Harvey will follow directly he can travel?”
Lord Grey, with private reservations, agreed again.
“I am glad to hear it. I shall remain and see that he does,” said the Countess and ruthlessly delivered the coup de grace. “You will have heard that your friend Lymond has been caught.”
“Caught! By Wharton?”
“No. By the Scots. When,” said Margaret, having applied the black draught, “do you think Harvey will be able to travel?”
The Lord Lieutenant rested vague eyes on her. “What? Oh. I’ve no idea. I’ll ask the girl.”
Margaret stopped arranging her dress. “What girl?”
“There was a girl among the prisoners from George Douglas’s who took an interest in him at Haddington. They were all kept there for a spell before coming here.”
“Took an interest in Harvey!” exclaimed the Countess. “Who is she?”
Grey told her what he knew, and felt much better. “Lymond and she seem quite friendly,” he concluded, and raking in his desk, found a letter. “We took that from Lady Douglas just before we released her. It’s a letter to Sir George from the Stewart girl, written for her by her servant lad. She’s blind, you see. See what it says.”
“Blind!” Her face fixed in astonishment, Margaret Lennox read the paper once, then a second time. “Signed, Christian Stewart.”
She looked up. “This assumes that the Master of Culter will be in touch with Sir George … ‘or someone on his behalf.’ He is to be told that all is well, and he need pursue his objective no longer, because she has done all that is necessary. What does that mean?”
Lord Grey shook his head. “I had the girl in today asking her about it, but she’d say nothing.”
“Did Lady Douglas know what was in the letter? No? I should like to see this girl,” said Lady Lennox with a ringing and unanswerable finality.
* * *
Since the shock and physical buffeting of her capture at Dalkeith, Christian Stewart had stumbled unwillingly to Haddington, and then in a kind of stupor of relief and anxiety here to Berwick.
Miraculously, the key to the whole strange problem lay now in her hands. But to use it, she must be free. And whether Francis Crawford had been helped to escape, or whether he was still in prison, she must prevent him from appearing on trial, or from risking his liberty again before she could find him.
Her letter to Sir George—a hopeless attempt to do just that—had failed. She had no other means of sending a message. She had tried to persuade them to release Sym, without success. She had even contemplated approaching the man Somerville, who had seemed friendly, and might perhaps be trusted. But he had left the castle, she had been told.
What next? All day she walked up and down, thinking: of Boghall; of Inchmahome; of Stirling; of Edinburgh. “If I told you I’d murdered my sister you’d feel hate and revulsion.” “I haven’t tried to kill anyone today, I give you my word.” “A thief in the night is the phrase.” And the bleak “The darts which make me suffer are my own.”
She smashed her fists in sudden anger on the sill of her window. Oh, to get out! To get out of here!
To the Countess of Lennox, paying a regal prison visit, Christian was an astonishing, a calm, an impenetrable steel wall.
The name was soon spoken: Francis Crawford of Lymond. “I don’t suppose you