A Trust Betrayed Read Free Page A

escort you home.”
     
    “Home? But I cannot leave at a time like this. Roger’s mother needs me.”
     
    “You have much to do in Perth. Find a new factor.”
     
    “Fergus has been doing the work since Jack left. He will continue.”
     
    “Uncle Thomas expects him in Aberdeen.” Their father had arranged for Fergus to become secretary to his uncle, who had a fleet of merchant ships.
     
    “He will not go now.” He could not. He must not. “He will be Roger’s factor.”
     
    “He is too young, Maggie. Younger even than you. He wants training,” Andrew replied firmly.
     
    Margaret felt her face growing hot. Fergus was young, seventeen. But Margaret had no money with which to pay a factor. “It is not for you to decide.” The Church saw to all Andrew’s material needs. He knew nothing of what the merchants suffered with the English blocking the shipping. He could not possibly understand her situation.
     
    Their eyes locked. Margaret prayed Andrew could not see how close she was to tears.
     
    He was the first to look away. “Go, break your fast, Maggie. The burial is set for nones.”
     
    Fleeing the hut, she slipped on the rutted ice, steadied herself against the wall. The morning was cold but dry. She stood a moment in the sharp air, letting it cool her burning cheeks. She must calm herself and think what to do.
     
    *        *         *
     
    Fergus jumped up from his seat by the fire circle to embrace Margaret.
     
    “I am so sorry, Maggie. Jack was a good friend to you.”
     
    Fergus had thought Jack a difficult boss, ever finding fault, never praising, but he was aware how much Margaret had valued her husband’s cousin.
     
    “You should come back north with me,” he continued. “Far as you can from the English soldiers. Better yet, close up the house and come to Aberdeen. Aye, that’s best.”
     
    It was good advice, but Margaret was not free to agree to it. “How would Roger find me?” She fought tears, but they already streamed down her face. She was tired, hungry, frightened.
     
    “Oh, Maggie, I didn’t mean to make you weep.”
     
    But as he stood before her she saw that Fergus was truly a very young seventeen, not yet experienced enough to handle the responsibilities of a factor without guidance. He did need time with Uncle Thomas. She did not know how she was to manage without either Roger or Jack.
     
    “Have any ships come through while I’ve been away?” she managed to ask.
     
    “Nay. Things are no better than when you left.”
     
    Perhaps it did not matter. She was not likely to find a factor even had she the money to pay one. All the young men were slipping away to fight the English. Another good reason to tie Fergus to the business—he might yearn to be a soldier, but he would not desert her.
     
    *        *         *
     
    By late morning the sun shone on mud brittle with frost. Jack’s coffin was to be placed in one of the shallow winter graves until the earth thawed and he could be moved to a permanent grave. Standing in the doorway of her goodmother’s house, Margaret shivered and pulled her plaid mantle close about her, shifting from one foot to the other in an attempt to keep some feeling in her toes. She said good morrow to some neighbors and a priest from another parish, pressed the hands of an elderly goodwife in tears.
     
    “Dame Kerr.” It was the hoarse voice of Jack’s father. Will Sinclair bowed his shriveled head to her; the stench of stale wine lingered in his wake as he entered the house. Jack had hated his father, a drunkard who had begotten eight children on two wives, both of whom had died of his neglect. Then he had worked two daughters so hard they, too, had fallen with fevers. Being the youngest, Jack had been taken in by his aunt Katherine.
     
    The mourners had been congregating without the house after expressing their sorrow to the family. There was no room for all of them within. Now they milled about, soberly