The Convenient Murder Read online

  “No, I wish more than anything else for him to recover and be entirely well again, but we are still not suited to each other.”

  “Could you watch him marry someone else?”

  She felt a strange intense dissatisfaction at the idea and it confused her. “I cannot think beyond today.”

  She heard a noise and shot to her feet, thinking that the physician must finally be coming out with news for them. Instead, she saw her brother walking up the stairs, accompanied by an older lady and gentleman she recognised after a moment as Mr McDonald’s parents.

  As his parents sought an explanation from Mr MacPherson, who stood nearby, Eddie hurried to her side and embraced her. She held him tightly and blinked back tears. She had no right to cry – she was to blame for Mr McDonald’s plight.

  The door to Mr McDonald’s bed chamber opened and the physician walked out, wiping his hands with a cloth. There was blood on them, a lot of it, the sight drawing her attention and making her feel sick with guilt and fear. It could already be too late: Mr McDonald might have died while they were sitting talking. The idea was unbearable.

  Mr MacPherson said, “How is he?”

  There was a young man standing behind him whom she had not noticed before: a working-class man who wore the blue apron of one of Edinburgh’s caddies. He looked vaguely familiar but she could concentrate on nothing but the physician’s words, desperate to hear good news and terrified that they would be told the opposite.

  “I have removed the lead ball from the musket that was embedded just below his shoulder blade and it did not cause him any serious harm. He is weakened from blood loss but he will recover swiftly.”

  Fiona felt her legs shake and she leaned against Eddie, who put an arm round her. She had not caused Mr McDonald’s death after all. He would not die. That was all that mattered.

  “I have given the patient laudanum, so his manner might seem confused. He can be returned to his own home now and then he will require rest. I will call to replace his bandages tomorrow.”

  As the physician left, the people present began to talk about how to move him and something about carriages, but Fiona did not listen. She walked to the half open door of the bed chamber and peered round it. She caught a glimpse of a man lying in a four-poster bed and a white bandage against a broad, pale chest. She had never seen such an intimate view of a man and she started guiltily when a hand came down on her shoulder.

  “I am sorry,” she said, turning round, before she was even aware who she was apologising to.

  “There is no need,” said Mrs McDonald. “It is natural for you to be worried and want to check on him.”

  Her kindness caused the tears to rise again in Fiona’s eyes. Mrs McDonald would not view her gently if she knew that Fiona was responsible for her son nearly dying. “It is my fault he was hurt. I wanted to find out if Mr McIntoll was a killer.”

  “Then it was Padraig’s duty to protect you,” the older Mr McDonald said, moving to stand next to his wife, who nodded in agreement. “You are to be his wife. He behaved exactly as I would have expected him to.”

  But she did not intend to marry him, which meant that he had been injured for no reason.

  They entered the room to speak to their son, Mrs McDonald squeezing Fiona’s arm as they passed, a motherly gesture that increased Fiona’s sense of guilt, since she had still no revealed the entire truth to them.

  Mrs MacPherson walked over to her and smiled. “The killer is arrested thanks to you. The matter is over.”

  But, after all her concern over catching the murderer, Fiona could take no pleasure in having helped do so and in seeing the matter to its conclusion. Her debt to Mr McDonald could not be so easily dismissed and she had no idea how she could ever repay it.

  * * *

  “Are you sorry that we were not the ones catching the killer?” Ewan asked Ishbel while Mr McDonald’s parents checked on his welfare. They stood slightly back from the others, unconcerned with the fact that they were making themselves at home in the home of a murderer.

  “Not this time. Miss Chiverton was present when Lord Strand died so I think it meant more to her to find the person responsible, although not at this cost. Besides, on this one occasion it might have been a good idea to avoid gunfire.” She lifted a hand to her stomach and touched it gently.

  “I should say it is always...” He looked down at her hand and then up at her, gradual understanding of her meaning entering his eyes. “What..? How..? Really?”

  “Perhaps we should call back the physician if you need someone to explain the ‘how’ to you,” she teased him. Her smile faded as she wondered if, for the first time, he would behave like other men and want only a male heir. “It could be a boy.”

  “Yes,” he agreed with a bright smile.

  “It might also be a girl.” She bit her lip as she waited for his response.

  His eyes lit up. “Yes! It will probably be one or the other, do you not think?”

  “In all likelihood.” She laughed, thinking that he was her own unique, perfect man and also that he was showing signs of being in need of a strong brandy.

  “How wonderful.”

  He lifted his hat in front of their faces so that, unseen by those around them, he could lean down and kiss her.

  Historical Note

  George Williamson, who appears in this novel, was a real-life person who did work for the king in the eighteenth century and was known to be kind-hearted, sometimes paying the debts of the criminals he caught.

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