Elizabeth thought the time for polite conversation was past. She said, "My husband was shot twice. Yes, I realize the danger very well. But the fact is, Lady Isabel, that we did not want to be here, and were brought against our will--"

"Moncrieff," she interrupted.

"Yes." Elizabeth nodded. "And that is why I took the chance of coming to see you."

"Ye want my help tae get awa'. But what o' yer guidman's faither and his friends?"

Elizabeth paused to think. Lady Isabel was much better informed than she might have guessed.

"We do not know where they are, but we can wait no longer. We must start for home."

"I can help ye, but no' in the way ye'd expect," said Lady Isabel. "They were here yesterday tae consult wi' my husband and wi' Breadalbane."

Elizabeth thought at first she must have misunderstood, but she saw by the girl's face that she had not. "My father-in-law was here?"

"And Robert MacLachlan and yer cousin Viscount Durbeyfield, as weel."

Elizabeth let out a sound of surprise. "My cousin Will, here?"

"Aye. Did ye no' ken they were travelin' tegither?"

"I did not," Elizabeth said, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose to stem the sudden ache there. "The last I saw of my cousin was in Canada. I assumed he was still there."

"He was here yesterday," said Flora quite firmly. "I shook his hand."

Elizabeth struggled with this unexpected news. What if it were a lie, nothing more than a subterfuge meant to put her off her guard?

Lady Isabel read her thoughts without any effort at all. She said, "You doubt my report, and wi' guid cause. Flora, describe the gentlemen wha came tae see the earl yesterday."

This was a task that suited the girl, and she sat up straight, and thoughtfully described all three men exactly, down to Robbie's florid complexion and the scar on Hawkeye's left cheekbone. They had been here; yes, she could accept that. But under what circumstances?

"And where are they now?" Elizabeth asked.

Lady Isabel said, "They left early this morning for Carryckcastle. Ye must ha' crossed paths wi' them."

Elizabeth stood abruptly, and then sat again. "But--"

"Mrs. Bonner," said Lady Isabel very gently. "Calm yersel'. Nae harm has come tae them. The viscount made sure o' that."

"She's confused," said Flora, watching Elizabeth closely.

"Yes, I am," Elizabeth said. "Why would the Campbells--why would you make an alliance with my father-in-law and let him go on his way without interference, when my husband was attacked and almost killed?"

Lady Isabel spread out her hands on her lap. "Because they came here tae ask for safe passage, just as you have."

"Mr. Bonner swore an oath," supplied Flora, not meeting Elizabeth's gaze. "Never to come back to Scotland."

"I see." Elizabeth's thoughts were moving very quickly. She wanted to get back to Nathaniel and give him this good news--his father and Robbie were alive and well, and they were all ready to go home, right away. But it was almost too sudden to comprehend, and too many matters remained unsettled. Will, in Scotland--when Aunt Merriweather had gone to such trouble to remove him from danger of transportation for sedition. And all of them on the way to Carryckcastle. What kind of reception would they get there, when they announced their intentions?

And what of Carryck? She looked up at Lady Isabel, trying to see something of her face, but failing. She had been expecting the intense young lady of the stories she had been told, impetuous and angry; instead she had found a frail woman much older than her thirty years, perfectly in control of her emotions. But then her inheritance was safe now; she would have her revenge on her father and Jean Hope. Elizabeth saw now how foolish she had been to have thought that the rift between Lady Isabel and her father might be so easily addressed, and still she could not go away without trying.

She said, "I am very thankful for this good news, of course. We will start back to Carryckcastle much relieved. Is there any message you would like me to take to your father?"

Lady Isabel's gloved hands moved fitfully over the lawn of her gown. "Aye," she said finally and she lifted her arms--it seemed a considerable effort--to raise her veil and drape it back over the crown of her hat.

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. Isabel looked a great deal like the portrait of her mother that hung in Elphinstone Tower, but at first glance it seemed she had painted her face for a masquerade. Her skin was mottled stark white and bronze and something close to black in large patches over her face and neck. As shocking as the condition of her complexion was, the resigned expression in her eyes was far worse.

"Ye can tell my faither that I've been punished for my sins. First I bore Walter two deid bairns, and then this--" She raised a gloved hand toward her face. "This will be the death o' me. Carryck will be aye satisfied tae hear it."

"Oh, no," Elizabeth said, more shocked at this idea than she was at Lady Isabel's poor ruined face. "Surely not. Not to see a child of his suffer so."

"Ye dinna ken ma faither, Mrs. Bonner." She said this with a bitterness that Elizabeth could not counter.

"Is there nothing to be done for you?" Elizabeth asked. "Perhaps Hakim Ibrahim--"

"The best doctors and surgeons have all been to see her," said Flora almost huffily, as if Elizabeth had accused her of not taking sufficient measures. "None of them can say what is wrong with any certainty, and none of them offer her any cure."