Catherine turned and glared. “You have done a dreadful thing this day, Alastair”

Crawford turned to Ellie. “It was hard for Ann to learn of your fate,” he told her. “Doubly so when we thought we’d lost you after your adoptive parents died.

“Thanks to Ewan’s tenaciousness, however, we eventually learned you were in service, and he arranged for you to come to Edinburgh.”

“The colonel ordered me to get you – all his children, as I’ve now learned – here to the capital in readiness for his arrival,” Ewan stepped in to explain.

“Alison was already here with John and Agnes, of course; then Robert’s transfer was arranged.”

He smiled at Ellie. “You were lured here and it only remained for me to suggest to John Porteous that he invite his old friend Duncan McAllan to set up his Mission House.

“Of course, John had no idea of the real reason. He thought it only a ploy of mine to further the network of Jacobite supporters.”

This was so much for everyone to take in. Crawford broke the ensuing silence.

“I would only add two things. Those who took the girls were pledged to total secrecy and were warned that the day might come when the girls’ true parentage would be revealed.

Grateful

“I’m grateful that these pledges were kept, though mindful of the hurt this must have caused.

“Secondly, I had arranged that money be made available to those who took the babes, but the Frasers would not accept theirs and such as was given to Ellie’s adoptive parents went missing after their deaths.”

He shifted his gaze. “You and your family were not well off, John, and were grateful for what I sent, I am sure.” “I was, sir.” John nodded, his face grave. “I know there was a period when you received nothing,” the colonel continued, “and for that I am sorry.

“It emerged that my factor at that time had been embezzling the estate funds and was not using them for the purpose I’d ordered.”

“I can assure you,” Ewan broke in grimly, “that the factor concerned was made fully aware of his error.”

All present grasped the import of Ewan’s menacing words.

“The present factor is a fine, upstanding fellow. The estate is called Glencorrie and is in Morayshire, and is very well managed now,” Crawford added.

“Alastair, I find this all reprehensible,” Lady Catherine called out suddenly.

“For over 20 years these four young people have laboured under grave misapprehensions, believing that the only parents they ever knew were their natural ones.

“And Ellie, poor girl, didn’t even have that, but lived the life of a skivvy!”

“I was not misled,” Alison interrupted. “Like I said, I have known for some time.”

She turned to John and Agnes. “I heard you talking one night, wishing you had not taken me in.”

“I would you had not heard that.” John Porteous groaned. “It’s all right, I understand everything now.”

“But, Alastair!” Lady Catherine held up her hand imperiously. “What I wish to know now are your expectations of these young people.

“Are they to rush forward, enfold you in their arms and cry, ‘Papa’?”

The colonel made to defend himself but Lady Catherine cut him off. “I have not finished.

“Are Kirsty and Alison to leave their respective homes, thus causing the lives of the Porteouses and Mr McAllan to be that much emptier?

“And what of Robert? Is he now to embrace the Jacobite cause and fly in the face of all he’s been reared to believe in?”

She turned and indicated Ellie. “As this girl said, she alone can accept this more than the others.”

She glared. “You have done a dreadful thing this day, Alastair.”

Crawford looked woefully at her. “My God, woman, you’ve a terrible tongue in you. Always had, if I remember rightly.

“I can accept all you say, Catherine, my dear, but please allow me to explain.”

Burning rage

In the gallery Thomas McLean stirred restlessly. He’d heard every word that had been said below, and as he’d listened to the talk a burning rage had grown within him.

He had been betrayed by the old harridan, and his master Sir Patrick had been maligned!

As for the man Crawford, how dare he stand down there, smugly revealing himself as the father of four brats?

Teeth clenched, McLean lifted his pistol and eased himself forward. Trusting that no tell-tale creak would reveal his presence, he reached the guard rail and waited.

Ewan leaned back in his seat with his eyes half closed, watching the faces around him in turn, apparently relaxed but as much on the alert as ever.

Suddenly something caught his attention. Was that a movement in the gallery?

As Ewan strained his eyes to see, a shadow took shape – a man, low down but moving forward. “Sir! Get down!” Even as he shouted the warning, the gloom was suddenly lit up by the flash from a pistol and Colonel Crawford staggered back, one hand clutching his neck.

As everyone around him ducked to the floor, Ewan stood up, drew his pistol and fired.

Staggered

The dark figure staggered, swayed, and then with a groan jerked and tottered forward, the momentum carrying him over the rail. He tumbled down and fell on the pews below. Within seconds the others had gathered beside the stricken colonel, Ellie gently cradling his head on her knees.

Ewan, again acting alone, walked away from the huddle towards the man he’d shot. The body lay prone in a broken heap over one of the pew backs.

Ewan grabbed the man’s hair and peered at the face. The eyes opened. “Crawford – is he dead?”

“You’ll never know,” Ewan whispered, drawing his knife.

He glanced up and caught Miss McLaurin’s questioning gaze. Roughly he turned the dead man’s face towards the old woman. She studied the gaunt features, and nodded. “McLean,” she whispered.

After a moment Ewan remembered Crawford, but any hopes he nurtured were dashed as the sound of sobbing reached him.

The others stepped aside to let him through, and his eyes fixed on the awful neck wound.

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