“I am not your mum,” she spat, pulling her arm free. “Would you please call me Marjorie?” Fiona gave her a weak smile. “All right then, Marjie. ”
“Marjorie. ” Remembering her anger, she pressed on, striding down Chanonry Road toward Westhall. “The boys will be asleep, up there,” Marjorie said, nodding to the triangular upper story. “But Archie” — she grimaced — “stays for a time before the fire, in the library. It's where he sees his patients during the day. ”
“May I ask you a question, mum… Marj… Marjorie?”
“It seems you just did,” she retorted, and then shook her head at her own cheek. She couldn't let impatience get the better of her. The truth was, the night had unsettled her, and she was happy to have her maid's company. “My apologies, Fiona. Please, what is your question?”
“Why are you so angry with Archie? He seems a good man. A caring man. ”
“They all do, don't they?” Cormac had also seemed a good and caring man. Flustered, she scrambled for an explanation, then said simply, “It remains to be seen what our Archie is about. ” She gave Fiona a sharp look. “I have a question for you, though. What was Archie doing visiting you at your home?” Fiona inhaled sharply,
and Marjorie would swear that, if it were daylight, she'd see a blush on her maid's cheeks.
“He helped me once,” she began tentatively. She raised her left hand, holding her index finger to catch the moon's light. “He'd come to your uncle's to pay you a visit. I'd cut myself in the kitchens, badly. Archie saw me just after it happened. He told me if I didn't let him dress the wound, I'd lose my finger. ” The maid shrugged, looking nervous. “He said you wouldn't mind if he came to the vennel to check on it. He needed to put on a clean bandage. He said it wasn't wrong of me to let him come. ” She cast her eyes down. “But still, I never told you, and I'm sorry for that. ”
“Goodnes
s, Fiona. ” Marjorie grabbed the girl's hand to study it. Sure enough, a thin scar wound around the top of her finger, white as a cobweb in the moonlight. “What do you think of me? Imagining I might begrudge you a finger, for goodness' sake. ” She dropped Fiona's hand. “Of course it's fine that he came to see you. It's just… I wonder that… why did he visit again?”
“We talk. Sometimes. When he comes to see you or your uncle. ” Fiona looked away, her cheeks decidedly flushed, visible even in the moonlight. “He said he'd heard about some trouble down by the docks. Said he was… concerned. ”
“Mm-hm. ” Marjorie eyed her maid thoughtfully. She was a pretty thing, if a mite peculiar, with a wide and open face, full bosom, and blushes that betrayed her every whim. Pretty enough to explain Archie's visit? She wondered.
The housekeeper let the women in and showed them to the library. They found Archie where Marjorie had predicted, sitting on an armchair before the fire, reading.
He nearly jumped from his seat, startled. “How did you get in? You didn't bring that MacAlpin fellow, did you?” He spotted Fiona behind her, and face softening, he sprang to meet them. “Is aught the matter?”
“What indeed,” Marjorie snapped. “The question is, what have you done with the boys you took?” Fiona gravitated toward him, giving him a warm smile. “I told her they were safe in your care, Arch. ” Marjorie shot her a look, raising a sharp brow at the nickname. Suddenly it wasn't just the boys' safety that concerned her.
“The boys?” His gaze was locked on Fiona, and there was something charged in his eyes. Stepping closer, he began to reach out, but then hesitated, and quickly clasped his hands behind his back instead. “They're all tucked upstairs. ”
She felt the tension between Archie and her maid and bit the inside of her cheek to remind herself of discretion. What a strange and unexpected mystery within a mystery. “I'd like to see them, if I may. ”
“Who?” Archie finally looked at her. “The boys?”
“Who else?” Impatient, she simply hiked her skirts and headed to the stairs.
“They're upstairs, where they always are,” he said to her back. The sounds of Archie's and Fiona's hushed murmuring ushered her out of the room.
The makeshift dormitory was a windowless room with a low, gabled ceiling. She stood at the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the utter blackness. And though it took her a moment to make sense of the sleeping forms, the heavy breathing of over a dozen boys greeted her, even and peaceful.
It was just as Archie had said: they were all asleep.
She tiptoed in until she found Davie, a smaller figure in the corner. His cheek was crushed against his pillow, mouth open, his face serene. She stroked a finger along his forehead, sweeping the hair from his brow. Safe.
Something that'd been clenched in her chest loosened, and she breathed a relieved sigh.
She stood, staring into the blackness. There were a couple of problems that remained. If Archie wasn't the kidnapper, who was? And why was Archie receiving money from the bailie?
Careful not to wake the boys, Marjorie went back downstairs, worrying the questions in her mind. Fiona and Archie stood together before the library fire, and she had to clear her throat to get their attention. They sprang apart at the sight of her.
Archie fiddled nervously with his cuffs. “Did you see them?”
If she didn't have more pressing matters on her mind, she'd have asked the two of them what was going on. But instead she said, “Safely tucked in for the night, as you said. ”
“I was telling Fiona. I implore you. It's not safe here. ” Archie hesitated, looking from Marjorie to Fiona, unsure which woman he should address. “You must return home. ”
Annoyed with the whole situation, Marjorie turned her back on him and dropped unceremoniously into a chair.