The Betrayal of Maggie Blair

Chapter 20

Tam's disappearance hardly made a stir the next morning.

"Where's old Tam?" Uncle Blair asked, looking around vaguely as we took our places at the table for morning prayers. "Did he slip away in the night like the wee shadow he is?"

Annie pursed her lips.

"He's not a very good person, I'm afraid."

I had to clamp my mouth shut to stop myself from flying out at her, and in doing so I bit my tongue, which hurt so much that I couldn't have spoken, anyway.

"I'm sorry he's gone," Uncle Blair said. "I would have liked to express my gratitude in due form. He was wonderfully brave to rescue our dear Maggie as he did from the Rothesay tolbooth, even though he had to tell untruths to achieve it. And he was clever also to send her off the island with that good man Archie Lithgow."

I could see that Annie didn't like that. Her eyes shifted from side to side as she tried to think of a dart to prick me with, but fortunately Uncle Blair had already opened the Bible and had begun to read.

There was a stir at the door as we finished our breakfast, and Mr. Barbour, our stout, red- faced neighbor, came in. My uncle jumped up from the table with unusual eagerness, almost upsetting his bowl.

"What is it, Stephen? Has he come?"

"Has who come?" asked Aunt Blair, bewildered.

"Mr. Renwick! It's Mr. Renwick, isn't it?" Ritchie said eagerly. "Is he in Kilmacolm already?"

She frowned at him.

"Mind your tongue, Ritchie. Maggie, Grizel, get along to the barn and look for eggs. Take Annie and show her where the hens like to lay. Go on!"

She almost shooed us out of the kitchen.

Annie lingered by door, pretending that she'd dropped something and was looking for it, but I saw that she was only trying to eavesdrop. I dragged her away.

"Ouch! Don't hold my arm so tight. You're hurting me," she complained.

I let go reluctantly. I was longing to get her away from the house, so that at last, out of earshot of the family, I could pour out my fury. Grizel looked from me to Annie and back again.

"Never mind the eggs. I'll gather them in," she said with one of her jerky nods, and went into the barn.

Annie dodged my arm, trying to follow her.

"No, you don't," I said. "You're coming with me."

She hesitated, then shrugged, and followed with surprising meekness as I led her down to the kail yard, out of sight and hearing of the house.

"Maggie, listen," she began, as soon as we reached the rows of sprouting cabbages.

"No. You listen to me." I knew her poisoned tongue. She'd got around me cleverly, the night we'd met on the shore of Bute, with her tears and her entreaties. I was determined to speak first before she could try her tricks on me again. She had the sense, I could see, not to try and rouse my pity again.

"You're a thief!" I said hoarsely, my throat thick with fury. "A hypocrite! A lying, sneaky snake!"

She was standing with her hands on her hips, mocking me, and her insolence angered me so much that rage clotted up my words. I could say no more but only stammer and choke on my tears.

"Well," she said at last, as I spluttered to silence. "I can see that I've made you cross, Maggie, but—"

"Cross? Cross?"

"But," she went on smoothly, "what else could I do? Where else could I go? I didn't know anyone, and I need a new home as much as you do. You must admit, it's very nice here, in spite of all the praying and preachifying. Your aunt's a good housewife, I could see that at once. Linen, dishes, everything of the best. You ought to be grateful to me. Did you really want to live in that hovel in Scalpsie Bay with that old witch for the rest of your life?"

The urge to batter the smile from her face was so strong that I turned and pummeled the trunk of the rowan tree that stood at the corner of the kail yard.

"I'm not going away, you know, just because of you," her hateful voice went on. "They like me, I can tell. I'll stay as long as I want to. And if you try to turn them against me, I'll do the same to you, and I'll win, you know I will."

Suddenly, I was more frightened than angry. She was right. She could turn my uncle and aunt against me easily. She had already begun.

"Why do you hate me so much, Annie? What have I ever done to you?"

She opened her eyes in genuine surprise.

"I don't hate you. Why should I? I don't hate anyone, except for old man Macbean. But you've got what I want, and I want to have it too."

"I haven't got anything. What do you mean?"

"You have, Maggie. You've got a family, food every day, and a decent gown to wear. And there's all that money waiting for you when you go back to Bute."

It was my turn to stare in surprise at her.

"What money? What are you talking about?"

She laughed.

"Don't tell me you don't know! The money Mr. Macbean and the Laird of Keames owed your father. For the drove. I saw the letter."

"Letter?"

"In Macbean's strongbox. It said..." She stopped. "You really don't know, do you?" Her calculating mind was casting around now for an advantage. I could see that she regretted telling me so much.

"You can't stop there." I was too eager in my curiosity, I knew, but I couldn't hold back. "What did the letter say?"

"Oh, I don't remember. Some old thing. It meant nothing to me." She had the upper hand again, and she knew it. "I might tell you, if I think of it. But you'd better watch out, Maggie. You'll be sorry if you try to turn your uncle and aunt against me. I'll make you really, really sorry."

I shivered at the cool menace in her voice. But as she followed me back up the path to the barn, I realized that Annie was using Granny's weapon, trying to exercise power through fear. In the end it hadn't worked for Granny. I took comfort from the hope that it wouldn't work for Annie either.

When we went back into the house with a few eggs held in our aprons, I was surprised to see that Mr. Barbour was still there, and my uncle and Ritchie had not yet gone out to their work. My aunt looked pale and agitated, and Martha and Nanny, sensing the tension in the room, were staring round-eyed from one adult to another. Only Ritchie showed no sign of anxiety. He was sitting with his father's sword across his knee, carefully polishing the shining blade. His mouth was set in a determined line, but excitement danced in his eyes.

"Is this all your household, Hugh?" said Mr. Barbour, looking around at us all.

"There are the two serving men. They're sound. True servants of the Lord and his Covenant."

"You know what a word of betrayal will cost us and the price that is set on James Renwick's head?"

Uncle Blair nodded impatiently.

"Aye, man, of course I do. But what choice do we have? 'Be thou faithful unto death,' saith the Lord, 'and I will give thee a crown of life.'"

"Amen," said Mr. Barbour and Ritchie together.

Uncle Blair glanced up and saw the puzzlement on our three faces.

"Look at you innocents," he said with the gleam of a smile. "There's no help for it now. The truth must be revealed to you of what is to come to this house. And you will delight in it, as I do, for a great servant of the Lord is trusting us with his precious presence. James Renwick himself, a saint touched by the Holy Spirit, has promised to preach on our own moss, and when he comes he will stay with us in this very house. Oh!" He slapped himself on the chest, stood up, and walked around, so deep was his excitement. "This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes!" He stopped walking, and his voice dropped to a deep, thrilling tone, as if he was delivering a sermon. "Our poor Scotland has been overrun by wicked men, worldly men and the bishops who are their tools. And it is up to us, the faithful few, the godly remnant, to struggle for the pure and holy way, for..." He stopped and looked up. "What's that? Horses outside in the yard? Ritchie, see who it is."

Ritchie dropped the sword with a clatter and sprang to the door.

"Black Cuffs, Father!" he called over his shoulder. "All mounted! Seven or eight of them. With an officer at their head!"