Page 65 of Deception and Desire
Rose dropped to her knees before Colin and raised her arms, pulling his head to her breast. “Shhh, now. You’re a good man. Shh. Of course he must go home.”
They waited in silence while he regained his composure. He swiped his face with his palms and sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding. “I’m sorry.” With a blink and a shake of his head, he rambled on, “He didna die there on the field… I carried him to the infirmary, and he took his last breath that night.”
Fenella dropped into a chair, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t understand.”
MacGregor grunted. “Orator Hunt they call him. He was to speak at St. Peter’s Field. I heard people were traveling for miles to hear him. The mon advocates peaceful assemblies and champions the workers’ right to vote and be heard.”
Colin nodded. “I didna want to go, but he insisted on attending. So, I went along.” He leaned back in the chair, his hand resting on Rose’s head, absently smoothing the hair back from her face. He’d regained control of his voice, and his deep timbre was once again the man they all knew. “It was almost like a grand fair when we arrived. I’ve never seen such a crowd. Women and children, singing and laughing and waving banners. A band played music as Hunt was escorted to the front and climbed onto a stage. He wore a white hat, and I remember how bright it shone above the crowd.
“He’d only spoken a few words when I heard someone say, ‘The soldiers are here.’ And I thought, what the devil do we need soldiers for? Then someone else said, ‘They must be here in case there is any trouble.’ I thought, aye, that would make sense. I turned to see the mounted soldiers lined up behind the throng. It happened so quickly.
“They shouted at us, and the crowd shouted back, friendly-like, to my ears. Then the uniforms shouted again and raised their sabers. They pushed into the crowd, and we tried to move, tried to allow them passage, but the bodies were packed in so tightly. There was an angry shout, then the cavalry kicked their horses and began cutting their way through to make a path. The panic began, confusion as people tried to escape the horses and the blades…
“A woman next to us held a bairn in her arms no more than two years of age”—he covered his eyes with his palms, as if trying to rub the memory away—“and a black steed reared and struck the bairn in the head. Its mother tried to catch it as it fell to the ground. Just before the hooves came down, Ian threw himself on the child. I saw him trampled by the horse, then by people running for their lives. It was like a battlefield with such chaos, bodies and blood everywhere. I couldna reach him in time… I couldna save him.” Colin’s voice faded, and he stared blindly at Rose, still stroking her dark hair.
“Fergus, get the mon settled in the servant’s quarters, it’s the closest bed. He must have some rest.” Her grandmother took charge. “Rose, get some hot water. He’ll need some hot compresses to get him to sleep. And some words of succor, I’d imagine, that would be best coming from the woman he loves.”
Rose wiped her cheeks with both hands and nodded, rising to help MacGregor guide the man down the hall. Fenella thought it must have been sheer stubbornness that had gotten him this far.
“Fenella, do ye have any idea where Lachlan might have gone?”
Her eyes lingered on the retreating trio. “No, Grandmama. I haven’t a…” The grove on Glasgow Green. “Wait. I can think of one place. There was a pretty spot on the Clyde that he said he went to when he needed to think.”
“As soon as Fergus has Colin settled, I’ll have him bring round the phaeton and take ye there. If ye find him, get him home and to bed as we’ve done Colin. These men will need a good night’s rest before they take Ian home. If the body’s been prepared properly, one more night willna make a difference.” Her grandmother opened her arms wide. “Come to me, sweetheart. We both need comfort right now, and ye’ll need to be strong for yer mon.”
The two women hugged each other, swaying as the tears streamed down their cheeks. Tears for Ian, for his wife, for Lachlan and Colin. Tears for the poor unfortunate people who had gathered on St. Peter’s Field and lost their lives.
*
“Pardon the choiceof vehicle, but if I ken my kinsmen, he may no’ be in a condition to climb up into the phaeton.” MacGregor snapped the reins, and the horse and cart rolled into the street. “So, where are we going, lass?”
“The Green. I only pray I’m right.” Fenella did say a few prayers as they made their way across town.
They parked as close as they could to the grove. MacGregor paid a waif a farthing to stay with the cart, and they made their way toward the spot overlooking the Clyde. She saw Brownie first, standing tall over her master. The dog’s tail thumped as they approached, and she let out a sorrowful howl. When they crested the slight incline, they found Lachlan passed out and propped up against the trunk of a tree. He reeked of whisky, an empty flask still clutched in his hand. His hair was tangled, his shirt stained and damp from the morning dew and summer grass, no stockings covered his calves beneath the leather shoes. The deerhound whined, licking his face as if letting him know help had arrived. He stirred, mumbling incoherent words, the irritation evident in his tone.
Fenella fought back tears of relief, thankful they had found him.
Chapter Nineteen
Loss, Love, and Solace
“Weel, lass, thiswillna be easy,” mumbled MacGregor. “As I suspected, he’ll be dead weight.”
She nodded and crouched next to him, pushing a thick damp curl from his forehead. What would happen when he woke? Rage at the injustice? Tears? Both? Brownie whined again. “Good girl. We’ll take care of him now.” She gave the hound a hug and received a wet cheek for her effort. “I’ll take this side and you take the other?”
MacGregor nodded. Together, they managed to get the half-conscious Scot to his feet and leaned him against the tree. “I’m afraid it will be easier if I just carry him like a sack of coal.” The stocky man bent, put his shoulder at Lachlan’s waist, and hoisted him up. “Now stand next to him and help me keep him balanced.”
The trio and canine made their way back. MacGregor thanked the wide-eyed boy and dumped his burden into the cart. None too gently, Fenella noticed. Lachlan groaned, and his eyes opened, slits against the morning sun. He covered his face with his hands, rolled over, and passed out again. Brownie jumped in and lay at his feet.
By the time they arrived at the townhouse, Lachlan was able to sit up. Between the footman and MacGregor, they got him up the stairs. Fenella waited in the hall while they undressed him and put him to bed.
“It’s no’ proper for ye to stay by his bed unchaperoned,” complained MacGregor as he prepared to leave. “Yer grandmother will have my head for it.”
She jerked a thumb at the deerhound, curled up next to the fireplace. “I won’t be alone.”
He huffed. “A beastie doesna count.”
“Do you really think he’s in any condition to harm my reputation?” she asked, poking the now prostrate lump on the bed. “I can’t imagine him waking, let alone ravishing me.”
