He strode into the Great Hall alone. At the sight of Hawkeye he came to a sudden stop. For a moment he stared, and then he turned to Carryck, his head up at a proud angle.

"My lord Earl," he said, his voice ringing through the hall, unflinching. "Why have ye sent for me in sic a manner?"

Carryck closed his eyes and then opened them again slowly. "We have a visitor."

"I see that, my lord." Moncrieff pushed his chest forward. Bravado or courage, it was hard to tell what moved him. "I tolt ye he wad come, in the end."

"We have a visitor fra' Loudoun," said Carryck evenly. "Lady Isabel is come hame."

For a moment Moncrieff's expression did not change. Then a small tic began at the corner of his eye and spread by degrees over his face until it reached his mouth, which opened and then shut before he turned, eyes blazing, to Hawkeye.

"This is your doing," he said. "Ye've taken up wi' Breadalbane."

"Monsieur Contrecoeur," Elizabeth said before Hawkeye could respond to Moncrieff. "Would you kindly ask Robbie MacLachlan to bring Lady Isabel here? She will want to speak directly to this man in her father's presence."

Moncrieff flung out both arms in a frustrated appeal. "My lord Earl. This is a devious plot tae discredit me for doin' naethin' mair than what ye bade me tae do-- bring that man, yer bluid cousin, tae Carryckcastle. Can ye let a Breadalbane stan afore ye and believe even a word o' what she has tae say?"

Carryck poured more whisky into his own cup. When he had drunk, he wiped his mouth.

He said, "I gave Daniel Bonner my word that I wad listen tae the charges against ye. His charges, and ... hers, as weel. Ye'll stand there and listen wi' me, Angus. Unless ye have somethin' tae fear fra' her?"

Moncrieff held his gaze for a long moment, and then he nodded.

Carryck spoke to Contrecoeur without looking at him.

"Bring her," he said.

Elizabeth watched Contrecoeur walk back to the tower, willing him to move faster, to run. And then he opened the door and the hall filled with the sound of Jean Hope's weeping, a sound hardly human that washed over them like a fitful breeze. Robbie came down the tower stairs and through the door, his normally florid complexion ashen.

"She's gone."

"God have mercy on her soul," said Will quietly.

"Amen," added Curiosity.

Moncrieff started, turning first to Carryck and then back toward Contrecoeur, who stood still with his hand on the tower door.

He passed a hand over his face, and then he smiled. Isabel was dead, and Moncrieff could hardly contain his joy. Elizabeth shuddered in sorrow and a deep and absolute loathing for the man who stood there, smiling at them, blinking in confusion and relief so profound he could not hide it: a condemned man with a last-minute reprieve from the gallows.

Nathaniel pushed back his chair as he came to his feet. "Counting your blessings right about now, ain't you, Angus? That she died before she could tell her father what you are."

Moncrieff's back straightened and he inclined his head, that artful tilt that Elizabeth had seen him use so many times when he was constructing a lie.

"Whatever complaints ye've got aboot me have naethin' tae do wi' Lady Isabel. May she rest in peace," he added solemnly.

Carryck drew in a breath through his teeth and then let it out again. Slowly he leaned forward to rest his head on his hands. His shoulders heaved once, and then again--a terrible dry retching that Elizabeth could not bear to see. She bent her head over her daughter and drew in Lily's smell, clean and sweet. Perhaps Carryck was thinking of Isabel when she was just as small, before she grew away from him; before he lost track of the woman she had become. Elizabeth had the power to give him back that daughter.

She stood, holding Lily to her breast. "My lord Earl, may I speak?"

Moncrieff made a small sound in his throat, but Carryck held up a hand to stop him. "Aye."

"On the journey here, your daughter Isabel told us the story of the day she eloped. Will you hear what she had to say?"

The room was so quiet that Elizabeth thought she could hear the beat of her own heart. She waited, and finally Carryck nodded. Moncrieff's face was vacant, waiting. Disbelieving.

"This is what Lady Isabel told us. After Lammas Fair five years ago, Angus Moncrieff confronted her on the road to the castle late in the night. Simon Hope was with her. He called Isabel a whore and Simon Hope a whoreson, and when she laughed at him for claiming that she had been promised to him in marriage, he told her of your alliance with Mrs. Hope. Then Angus Moncrieff assaulted and raped her there in the rain and dirt."

Nothing changed on Carryck's face, no acknowledgment or surprise. He said, "Angus. What say ye tae these charges?"

Flecks of color appeared high on Moncrieff's cheeks, just below the tic at the corner of his eye, as frantic as a heartbeat.

"Lies. Ye ken verra weel, my lord, that yer dauchter was promised tae John Munro o' Foulis on the verra day she ran aff."

From the back of the hall Jean Hope stepped forward from the shadows. Her face was red and swollen with weeping, and she wound her hands in her apron. "But Isabel nivver was told about John Munro!"

Moncrieff was untouched by Jean's sorrow and her logic. He shrugged. "Whether she knew or no', the oath was given and I witnessed it. Why wad I ha' tolt her anythin' else, or claimed her for my own?" More sure of himself now, he cast a glance toward Elizabeth. "Ye've got only the word o' a desperate woman. Elizabeth Bonner wad do anythin' in her power tae get her revenge on me, for takin' her bairns frae her in Canada. The bairns, that ye see before ye, hale and hearty."