Charles Todd - Legacy of the Dead

He went on. “Do you know a Mrs. Atwood?”

“No. At least I don’t remember having heard the name.”

“What about Robert Burns?”

“He’s a poet-he lived near Ayr.”

“No. A person you might have met.”

She thought about it. “I recall someone saying that the fiscal lost his son in the war. I don’t remember whether his name was Robert.”

“I’ve been searching for a woman called Eleanor Gray. She may or may not be the person you’re accused of killing. The bones that were found in Glencoe. Eleanor Gray’s been missing since 1916. She had a quarrel with her mother over-money. And just after that she was supposed to spend a weekend near Winchester with a friend, Mrs. Atwood. Instead she came to Scotland with a man, possibly a friend of this Robert Burns, who may or may not be the fiscal’s son.”

Fiona smiled. “May or may not be-possibly a friend- supposed to spend the weekend. Hamish said you were a clever policeman.”

It was the first glimpse of natural humor he’d seen, lighting her face from within. Lighting her eyes.

“Yes, sometimes I wonder myself,” he said, returning the smile. “The odd thing about Eleanor Gray is that no one appears to have cared for her. Ann Tait knew of her-and en-vied her. Mrs. Atwood was jealous of her. Her mother saw to it that she couldn’t pursue medicine, which was Eleanor’s passionate interest. She may have died in 1916, and the only person who has tried to find her was a solicitor who wanted her to sign papers relating to her inheritance. You are accused of killing her-and yet you don’t know her.”

“And that’s true.” She was serious again, resuming her pacing. “Why should I choose a woman at random, kill her, and take her child? A stranger I knew nothing about! It makes sense to the police because they’re men; they believe that because I wanted a child, I wouldn’t care who or what it was.”

“Their response would be, you knew Eleanor Gray was alone and in hiding. The perfect choice. There was no one to come looking for her.”

“To learn that much about her, surely I’d have learned her name as well. I don’t know how people behave in France or Canada. In Scotland we don’t confide in strangers!”

“Perhaps you met her as someone else. Using another name.” He paused. “Mrs. Cook-”

She went so white that her knees buckled, and he sprang from his chair to catch her as she fell. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her gently on the rough surface of the blanket. “Fiona-”

Her eyelids fluttered, then shut. Her voice when she spoke trembled. “I don’t know a Mrs. Cook.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, pulling the chair closer to the bed. “You know precisely who she is. She gave birth in Lanark to the child you called Ian Hamish MacLeod. I’ve spoken to her physician, his name is Wilson. I know that she had a hard birth and a very difficult recovery. I know, too, that it will be impossible for her to bear other children.” He stopped, then added the last bit of information that sealed his certainty. “You told your aunt you were expected to work out your notice at Mrs. Davison’s. But you didn’t. You explained to her why you were being sent for-that your aunt in Duncarrick was ill-and Mrs. Davison, a compassionate woman, released you immediately. She cared enough about you to make it easier for you to leave her family. And so there was nearly a month between the time you promised to come to Duncarrick with your child and the time you arrived here. You spent that time somewhere with the boy and his mother. But you lied to your aunt, you lied to Mrs. Davison, for all I know you have lied to Mrs. Cook. But you can’t lie to me, Fiona. I know too much.”

She reached out and caught his hands. “Please. I don’t know a Mrs. Cook. This woman you’ve just told me about- she has nothing to do with me or with my child! You mustn’t- there is no need to search for her. Because she doesn’t exist.” Her face was earnest now, her eyes wide. “It was Eleanor Gray I killed. I will swear to it! Bring my barrister to me-Inspector Oliver-the fiscal. In front of them I will tell you everything that happened. I didn’t mean to kill her-I didn’t want to kill her. But she told me I could have Ian, and then she changed her mind. I loved him, I’d held him, I wanted him. And so when she said she intended to take him after all, I pulled the pillows out from under her head and I held them over her face until she stopped struggling. And then I dragged her to the head of the stairs and-”

She broke off, crying, her tears hot against his hands. “Oh, please, I killed Eleanor Gray! Please go back to London and leave me to die in peace!”

“Fiona, listen to me!”

“No, I’ve listened long enough! I want you to bring Inspector Oliver to me, and Mr. Armstrong. Please-I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

“If you killed Eleanor Gray, what did you do with her body?”

“I buried it. In a field somewhere along the road. It was dark, and I couldn’t see to dig, and there was a dog barking somewhere, and I was so frightened. Then Ian began to cry, and I shut my ears and kept digging until I could roll her into the hole I’d made. Someone had piled branches and tree limbs nearby, ready for burning. I pulled them over the raw grave and left them there. It was at the edge of a field, near a wall, where no one would plow-”

“You’re lying-!”

“No, I’m telling the truth at last-Mr. Elliot said to me that confession would free my soul, and it has-I’m ready to die… I want to die -! ”

It took Rutledge nearly ten minutes to stop Fiona’s tears and make her listen to him. Shaking her lightly, he forced her to look at his face. Her eyes, rimmed red from crying, were the saddest he’d ever seen. Dark pools of anguish in her white face.

He wanted to hold her and comfort her. Instead he said, “Fiona. If you confess to murder, there is nothing I can do to save you. Do you understand that? You will be hanged. With joy and thanksgiving in Duncarrick. If I swear that I won’t speak Mrs. Cook’s name again, will you promise me to say nothing to Oliver or Armstrong? Nothing! ”

She said wearily, “I’m tired. I want this to end. I don’t want to remember Hamish and I don’t want to think about Ian, and I can’t bear -” She stopped, shaking her head.

“It will only be for a short time. I have to search for Eleanor Gray. Do you understand that? And if I find her, you won’t have to tell anyone about Mrs. Cook. Will you trust me a little longer?”

After a moment, she said, “I don’t want to trust you. I don’t want to see you again.”

“If you won’t do it for me, then for your grandfather- and Hamish.”

“They are dead. I’d rather be dead with them. It hurts too much to live.” Then she pushed him away and said, “Very well, then. As long as you keep your promise, I shall keep mine. But I haven’t the strength to sit here in this silence, alone and afraid, much longer! If I am going to die, I want to do it before I disgrace myself!” She caught her breath on a sob. “Courage is elusive in the dark of the night.”

He stood up. She seemed very small and helpless. He knew how confinement shredded the soul. But he had seen her strength. And he was touched by it.

“I’ll send word as soon as I can. Through McKinstry. You can trust him.”

“He’s- Yes, I trust him.”

Rutledge took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. She took it gratefully.

He walked to the door, wanting to say something. To offer her courage. Or to tell her she’d be safe. But he didn’t turn.

And Fiona MacDonald didn’t stop him as he left.

Leaving the cell key with Pringle, Rutledge went to The Reivers, summoning Drummond en route to unlock the door again.