Pat McIntosh - The Counterfeit Madam

‘There you are, Gil Cunningham! I was out in the town looking for you.’

‘I sent word I’d meet you here,’ Gil said mildly, rising. Sempill snorted angrily, but slammed the door behind him and came forward to salute his wife, his belligerent expression softening as he looked at her.

‘Did you get a word wi Dame Isabella, John?’ she asked. ‘Is all clear now?’

‘Aye,’ he said airily. ‘She’s — showed me how it happened. Likely there’s more to discuss,’ he added, ‘I’ll need another word wi her. What’s ado here?’

‘We’ve been talking o the two tofts on the Drygate,’ said his wife. ‘Maister Gil would like to see the rent-rolls.’

He dragged another backstool beside hers and sat down.

‘Aye, I suppose,’ he said ungraciously. ‘I’ve got them in the kist in our chamber. Is that what you’re here for?’

‘Part of it,’ Gil said. ‘I’ve to find out the history of these lands out in Strathblane and all, and I hoped you might help me there. Did I hear you say you’d taken the one Dame Isabella named to be Lady Magdalen’s property already?’

Sempill scowled at that.

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘But I’ve just said, I was mistaken. It’s never been Maidie’s. I’d mixed up the two names. See, they’re too much alike,’ he went on more fluently, ‘Balgrochan and Ballencleroch, and it’s Balgrochan that’s been Maidie’s all along. She showed me that last night, and the old — woman’s confirmed it now, may she-’

‘John.’

‘I think you had that from Dame Isabella too,’ Gil said, looking at Lady Magdalen. She nodded. ‘Was there ever any thought that it might no ha been hers to dispone?’

‘We’ve got the dispositions,’ said Sempill before his wife could speak, ‘all sealed and witnessed. The lands o Balgrochan are Maidie’s own, I tell you.’

‘John.’ She put a calming hand on his wrist. He subsided, and she said direct to Gil,‘To tell truth, my god-mother’s Livingstone kin by marriage put up some tale o it being part of the heriot land at the time, but I took it she would ken what she’d a right to. I set it down to them no wishing to see the land go out o the family. I’m beginning to wonder, now, if she’s maybe been mistaken. She’s well up in her age, after all, she might be getting — for all she’s so vigorous, you ken-’

‘Childish? A course she is!’ said Sempill. ‘And has been for years, at that.’

Lady Magdalen bit her lip, and Gil nodded understandingly.

‘Might I see the documents?’ he prompted. Husband and wife exchanged another look.

‘If you would, John,’ she said. He rose obediently. ‘Best to fetch them down here, I think, the light’s better here.’

Does she put something in his meat? Gil wondered as Sempill left the hall. Lady Magdalen watched him go, with what seemed like genuine fondness, then turned to Gil again.

‘I think you’re no long wedded yoursel, maister?’ she said. ‘And to a French lady, am I right? You speak French, then?’

‘I was four years at Paris,’ he replied.

‘Paris! My brother studied there and all. Did you like it?’

‘I did,’ he said briefly, images of the city and the university drifting in his head. The raucous narrow streets of the Latin quarter, the stationers, the book dealers, and the great church of Our Lady on its island in the river, looming over all. He blinked, and found Lady Magdalen offering him another of the small cakes.

‘So did my brother,’ she said, nodding. ‘Travel is a wonderful thing, though the food can be strange, so I’ve heard.’

‘They eat bread and meat, just as we do.’

‘But snails as well, so they say, and garlic in everything. Oh, John, you were quick, that was clever.’

‘Aye, well, they were to hand.’ Sempill thrust the bundle of documents at Gil and went to sit down beside his wife, who gave him another of those encouraging smiles. Gil set the rent-rolls to one side and lifted the third item, the title-deed, to inspect it before Sempill changed his mind.

‘This is the wrong docket,’ he said after a moment.

‘It’s the one I put back in the kist last night,’ said Sempill aggressively. ‘It canny be the wrong one.’

‘None the less,’ Gil said, ‘it’s the title to Ballencleroch, no Balgrochan. The one the Livingstones dispute.’

‘What? Let me see!’

‘John.’ Lady Magdalen put one hand on his wrist, and stretched out the other to Gil. ‘May I see, sir?’ She took the crimped and pleated parchment and looked briefly at the heading, then at the seals at its foot, and nodded. ‘Aye, I’m agreed. My godmother must have given us back the wrong document yestreen. She must have the other still in Attie’s bag.’

‘Aye, you’re right,’ said Sempill in faint surprise, peering over her shoulder. ‘The auld — woman must have been mistook in that and all. We’ll ha to get the right one off her.’

‘Might I see that one?’ Gil accepted it back and spread it flat, studying the peripheral wording. It seemed clear enough and perfectly in order; Thomas Livingstone and Isabella Torrance his wife had taken sasine of the lands detailed, in joint possession, on a date in 1490. He drew out his tablets and found a clean leaf.

‘What are you writing?’ demanded Sempill suspiciously.

‘The names of the witnesses,’ Gil replied. ‘And the factor who acted for the Earl of Lennox. One of them might recall the name of the man of law, if Dame Isabella won’t tell me. I need to establish who has the right to this land before my sister’s marriage.’

‘I’d as soon it was put straight too,’ agreed Magdalen Boyd. ‘She’d not hear my questions yestreen, grew angry when I tried to persist, so I left the matter, but-’

‘Here’s her man Attie now,’ said Sempill, straightening up to stare at the window. ‘Just crossing the yard.’

‘Maybe she’s sent the other deed,’ said his wife. Sempill snorted, and turned to watch one of his cousin’s servants make her way across the hall in response to the knocking at the door. Gil finished making notes and checked carefully again that the name of the man who had drawn up the document was not recorded, and suddenly realized that both Sempill and his wife were exclaiming in surprise and shock.

‘But what can have happened?’ Lady Magdalen said. ‘She was in good health yesterday. John, did you see her just now? Was she well?’

‘Just — oh, just the now? Same as she was yesterday — in full voice,’ said Sempill, ‘calling me for all sorts over nothing. I’d no ha looked for her to drop down dead either. What happened, man?’

‘We’re no certain,’ said the man Attie, his livery bonnet held against his chest. ‘She was well enow when Annot left her to — to her prayers, but when she returned there she was-’ He crossed himself, and Sempill did likewise, pale blue eyes round with astonishment. Lady Magdalen bent her head and murmured something. ‘We’re thinking maybe she took an apoplexy, or her heart failed her, or the like. Maister Livingstone’s sent for a priest, but-’

Gil looked round the dismayed faces and pulled off his own hat.

‘Are you saying Dame Isabella’s dead? This morning?’

‘Aye,’ said Sempill sourly. ‘So the man says. Trust the auld woman to thwart me in her last deed. So you can just fold that up and let me have it back,’ he added, pointing at the document Gil still held.

‘John,’ said his wife reprovingly. ‘There’s none of us can ken the moment of our death.’

‘But how?’ Gil asked. ‘What came to her?’ His mind was working rapidly as he spoke. Lady Magdalen’s transaction would probably be unaffected, but Tib’s marriage gift would almost certainly not reach her now, so the question of whether the lands in Strathblane were Dame Isabella’s to dispose of was a matter for the Livingstone family and not for him. He began to fold the crackling parchment. ‘What came to her?’ he repeated.