As the glow from the candles revealed his face, Lady Catherine gave a soft cry

Alison Porteous watched the scene in the kirk impassively, pondering what further revelations would be made. She raised a hand.

“Mr Ogilvie, you’re enjoying this. Have you anything else to reveal?” She shot a glance at the chancel. “What about Sandy McCrae there? What part does he play in all this?”

“Sandy? Oh, he’s been a powerful ally. We’ve known each other for years, serving in the same regiment. Together we worked our way throughout England seeking support.

“Then, on reaching Scotland, we decided – in fact, it was his idea – that he should change sides, so to speak. Isn’t that so, my friend?”

“It’s as you say, Ewan.” Sandy looked across at Alison. “I told you I was born and raised in Achahoish, which is true, so when we crossed the border and the time was right, I joined the Argyll militia, full of Hanoverian Campbells and their supporters.

“They welcomed the prodigal back and I was soon promoted to sergeant. Then I volunteered for intelligence duties.”

“Which placed him in an ideal position to help me,” Ewan added.

“As the time for the Prince’s journey to Scotland drew near I was sent here to Edinburgh,” Sandy said. “For obvious reasons, Ewan and I agreed to continue the deception, until now.”

Transfer

“After having made fools of me, General Guest and the garrison as a whole in the process!” Robert protested. Ewan shrugged.

“From your point of view I suppose that’s true. But would you believe he was responsible for your transfer from Carlisle to the castle? We have friends in high places, even in the Hanoverian army.” Ewan relished the look of shock on Robert’s face. “Sandy had a quiet word with a certain gentleman and lo! You found yourself in Edinburgh.”

Robert could only gape. Lady Catherine coughed gently. “Might I ask what part Jean Forbes played in all of this, sir? It would seem that I harboured one viper.” She turned to glower at McLaurin. “So, tell me, was my maid another?”

“No, my lady,” Ewan assured her. “Jean was an innocent party apart from her stupidity in becoming involved with a man called Thomas McLean, of whom we’ll speak later.

“True, she carried messages from time to time, but she was unaware of their import.”

Frowning, he added, “Your reference to Miss McLaurin is somewhat unfair, you know. The dear lady has played an important role in all this.”

McLaurin inclined her head but did not glance at her mistress.

It was Malcolm’s turn to stand and call out. “This is all very interesting, but surely you didn’t need to summon us all here to tell us of spies and duplicity? You could have told us this at the Mission, surely?” Laughing, Ewan nodded in agreement. “You’re right, of course, but you see there’s more – much more.”

“Then get on with it!” Robert had recovered from the shock of the revelations and was again in truculent mood.

Ignoring Robert’s outburst Ewan peered intently at the rear of the kirk as a figure moved in the shadows.

Quickly he gathered his papers together and made his way down from the pulpit to take his seat behind the adjacent large communion table.

Puzzlement

Aware of the others’ puzzlement, he deliberately stalled for as long as he could. Finally he spoke.

“To bring things to a more satisfactory conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, I am calling upon the services of another – a man known to some of us here.

“Believe me when I say I do not know what he will tell us. All I can say is that I have acted on his orders over the last few years for a purpose known only to him.” Standing up, Ewan called out. “Are you ready, sir?” “Thank you, Major,” a strong voice answered and a man’s figure emerged from the shadows to climb up into the pulpit.

As the glow from the candles revealed his face, Lady Catherine gave a soft cry. “Alastair! Is that you?” Colonel Alastair Crawford smiled down at her. “Aye, Catherine, my dear, it’s me. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Well nigh 25 years, by my reckoning.” He shifted his gaze. “And you, too, McLaurin. The years have been kind to you.”

“Havers,” the old woman retorted. “You’ve still got a flattering tongue in your head. Still,” she conceded, “it’s good to see you again.”

Aware of the air of expectancy, Alastair Crawford glanced around the gathering. “I apologise for bringing you here like this.”

He looked at Robert. “Especially where force was used. However, I hope to prove to you that this clandestine meeting was necessary.” He paused briefly.

“Let me tell you why you are all here. It’s a story which will surprise, even shock, most of you. Perhaps Miss McLaurin will be the least surprised.” He smiled as the old woman nodded.

“Twenty five years ago,” he began, “to this very month, I was married here in this kirk. The wedding was held in secret and the only witnesses were two kirk elders and a loyal servant. You remember, Ann?”

“That I do, sir.” All eyes turned to stare at McLaurin for a moment.

“My bride was a truly lovely girl,” Crawford continued, “refined and of good breeding. Her name was Catriona.

“Lady Catriona Crichton, the sister of Lady Catherine here.”

He allowed the resultant babble of voices to subside before continuing.

Difficulty

“Our marriage had to take place in secret because, alas, our courtship was fraught with difficulty. You see, my family and forebears were all staunch Jacobites but the Crichtons were not.

“The girls’ father, Sir Patrick, swore no Jacobite would ever marry into his family.” “But you did, Alastair,” Lady Catherine said softly. “Aye, and at first we were happy enough. I had sufficient means to buy a house and land in Perthshire, and there we stayed, Catriona and I – and Ann, of course.

“Within a year we knew the joy of the birth of our first child, but our joy was short-lived. You recall what happened, Catherine?” Lady Catherine hesitated, then found her voice. “Father never forgave Catriona for marrying you and swore he’d have revenge. He sent his factor, Thomas McLean, to scour the country for you.”

“McLean,” Colonel Crawford grated. “A knave if ever there was one. His actions have plagued me for years.”

More tomorrow.

Glens of Stone was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. There’s more great fiction in The People’s Friend every week, £1.30 from newsagents and supermarkets.

Artwork: Mandy Dixon