Page 42 of Highland Sword
“Caricatures, you say? How curious.”
“Curious indeed. But I must tell you she’s very good at it. The ladies here at Barn Hill are continually entertained by the likenesses she draws of each of us. Very amusing.”
The headmistress was obviouslynotamused, however. The change in her tone made it clear she would be quite happy to see her guest moving on.
“Nonetheless, I believe Madame Laborde would be excellent with your friend’s children.”
“Would it be possible to have a word with her?”
“Of course.” She looked out the window again. “Thistime of the day, she generally walks in the garden. If the weather is mild, she likes to sketch or paint out there. I can introduce you, if you like.”
“That would be lovely. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
As they turned toward the door, a clock in the foyer chimed the hour.
“Oh my! The time. Would you give me a minute to speak to one of the sisters? I’ll come back and take you out to the garden.”
Morrigan had a name, and soon she’d have a face to the artist responsible for all the hateful images. She was certain this Madame Laborde was the person she was looking for.
“It’s so lovely today. Would you mind if I waited for you in the gardens?”
“Not at all, my dear. I’ll point out the way for you.”
Isabella’s warnings echoed in her mind as she followed Mrs. Goddard from the drawing room. A moment later, Morrigan was ushered onto a sunny terrace looking out into the garden. She needed to stay calm and keep her temper in check. It was already obvious, however, that what this woman was doing had nothing to do with politics or misguided feelings of patriotism. She was creating these caricatures solely for the money.
“Please feel free to stroll along the paths, Miss Drummond. I’ll come back to you directly.”
As the door to the house closed, Morrigan set off in search of the artist. She wanted to meet with the woman alone. She wanted to look into her face and decide if she had any understanding of the consequences of what she was doing.
She didn’t see her right away, but the gardens were quite large, extending out from the side of the house and falling away in large broad terraces all the way to the roadthat led back to the center of Inverness. Walls of varying heights separated sections of the gardens. Near the house, a gate opened out onto the lane leading from the road to Barn Hill’s stables.
They were quite close to High Street in Inverness—the church-like spire of the Tolbooth was visible just above the trees.
Morrigan passed by a group of youngsters engaged in what appeared to be a botany lesson in progress. She had no trouble finding Madame Laborde. At the edge of a greensward on the lowest terrace, a slight woman in a blue dress and coat sat on a bench. She had a sketchbook on her lap.
Morrigan forced herself to take a breath and approached.
The artist’s gaze lifted from the page when she heard the footsteps. The sketchbook closed swiftly, but not before Morrigan espied the caricature-style drawing she was working on.
“Madame Laborde?”
The woman hesitated but then rose to her feet, leaving the book on the bench. She was small and thinly built, but durable looking. The wide brim of her hat shaded her eyes, but from what Morrigan could see, she was still young and attractive enough to draw men’s attention.
“I am she.”
“I was speaking with Mrs. Goddard. She told me you were out here, and I hoped to have a word. I was… my friend is looking for a tutor for her daughters.”
“Your name?”
She couldn’t lie. Not with the headmistress coming out soon. “Morrigan Drummond.”
“Any relation toDr.Drummond?”
Morrigan felt her blood grow cold. “Do you know a Dr. Drummond?”
“Dr. Isabella Drummond. Or does she go by the name of Isabella Mackintosh now?”
