Page 72 of Highland Crown
“Who are you?” he asked.
Cinaed crouched in front of him, speaking only to him. “Isabella sent me.”
“Mrs. Mackintosh.” Adams bowed. “I believe you must be mistaken. I have an excellent memory, and your lovely face is not one easily forgotten.”
Isabella was never fond of games, and this kind of charming deceit repelled her the most. She could imagine what he was thinking. He was a Lowlander traveling among strangers. Everyone here seemed to have accepted her as one of their own. The surgeon, the men Searc positioned across the street to watch the building, even the old woman sitting nearby—all of them wouldtake her part, regardless of any accusation he made, for to them she was Cinaed Mackintosh’s wife. But that was only true for this morning. What would happen at the end of the day, or tomorrow? How long would it take for this man to spread the word that she was in Inverness? How long before the wolves came after her?
One of the town magistrates at the door drew Mr. Carmichael out of the room. She looked at Jean. The pouch had been tucked away, and she was watching the newcomer like a hawk.
In that moment, Isabella realized it was anger and not fear that she was feeling. And before Carmichael returned, she would speak her mind.
“I know you, Mr. Adams. Just as I know your wife, since she’s been a patient of mine for the past five years. I have treated all four of your children whenever they’ve fallen ill. You’ve been to my home, and I’ve been to yours. So let’s be honest with each other.”
He bowed, but deeper this time. “Dr. Drummond, my apologies. My intention was to save you from any awkward situation that the truth might place you in.”
“Saveme?” she asked in a tone sharp enough to draw Jean’s attention. But she thought nothing of it. Her friend knew everything there was to know about her past. “Explain to me exactly how you define ‘saving’?”
“I… I understand this is an awkward situation.”
“For you. Not for me. But what an interesting choice of words, coming from you. Do you consider my life these past months just awkward? Is running for my lifeawkward?” She stepped close to him and snapped her words into his face. “Ihelpedyour friends and colleagues. When you brought them to my house, I stitched themand set broken bones. I healed them and saved more than one life, if you recall. When one of your friends was too badly injured to be carried anywhere, how many times did I refuse to go?”
Adams’s face had colored the deepest scarlet. He stared at the tips of his shoes.
“How many times?” she demanded.
“Never.”
“Even if I’d done none of that, I was still the wife of your friend.” Her voice cracked, but she cleared it, holding her anger in place. “How could you treat me with such cold callousness? As if I were someone completely unknown to you? How could you justify putting a bounty on my head?”
“You disappeared after the day of the strikes. We didn’t know what happened to you.”
“So you ordered to have me killed?”
“We never called to have you killed. We simply wanted you returned to us. You knew… you know everything about us. We wanted you found, that’s all.”
“That’s a lie.”
The man raised his hands in defense. “I swear to you. It’s the truth. The committee decided to offer a reward after the government declared you an enemy of the Crown and advertised a bounty for your arrest. We thought that by making a counter offer, we might have a chance to have you returned to us before the authorities laid their hands on you.”
“Dead. You wanted medead,” she repeated. “At every inn coming north, I heard those words.”
“The rumors were out of our control. We couldn’t paste up broadsides or pass out handbills. We needed torely on word of mouth. But what we said took on a different meaning. That was never what we intended.”
“And what good would your intentions have been for me or my family if we’d been identified? We could have suffered violence anywhere along the road.” She scoffed. “There is an expression, Mr. Adams, about good intentions and the road to hell.”
“Dr. Drummond, please believe me.” His voice was low and meek, and his shame was written across his features. “Please believe me when I say our intentions were noble, but we failed.”
“Exactly. You failed,” she repeated, turning away from him, “but at what cost to me and my family?”
The backs of her eyes burned, her chin was quivering, but she was not about to let him see her break down. Isabella recalled the desperation of their days in hiding. Sir Walter Scott—hardly a friend to this cause—was able to find them, and he sent John Gordon after them. These people—William Adams and the others—could have done the same thing.
She rubbed her forehead and remembered the dead. The radical reformers had suffered great losses. She’d heard what was happening. Their committees had been decimated. Many were running for their lives. She looked over her shoulder at his bent back. His hair was grey at the temples where it had been black this past spring. The lines around his eyes were deeper. He’d suffered, but he hadn’t needed to fear for his life due to the actions of his so-called friends.
“We, too, were in hiding—my family and I—for weeks,” he said.
He went on and mentioned other names she knew.Men who were friends of Archibald. Men she held responsible for adding to the dangers facing her. He told her what each person had needed to do to escape the gallows.
This past April, Isabella’s mind could not dwell on anything but her responsibility for Maisie and Morrigan. The struggles of those committee members seemed insignificant compared with her family’s plight. She took a deep breath and listened to the sounds of the people marching by outside. She’d come quite far since then.
