The Pretender's Lady by Alan Gold

The Pretender's Lady by Alan Gold

Author:Alan Gold
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yucca Publishing
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00


THE ROAD SOUTH FROM DUNVEGAN TO DRYNOCH ISLAND OF SKYE

JULY 7, 1746

The two ladies walked the length of the island avoiding the roads, preferring to travel through the fields and woodlands. But when the trees became too thick and the fields too boggy from the recent drenching they’d received in the storm, they were forced to return to the road and expose themselves to prying eyes.

Both of the ladies were tall and dressed in the costumes of modesty. From a distance, they could easily be identified as the wives or daughters of merchants or prosperous farmers. From close up, it was obvious that one was the mistress, one the servant. The difference between the two women was that the mistress had a dress engaged with attractive bows and embroidery, whereas the servant’s dress was somewhat more drab and ordinary as befitted her station in life. The other indication of the difference in status was that the servant trod in the footsteps of the mistress, her head bowed, her eyes cast down in deference.

The guards, who attended the road at the point where it branched left to Portree, saw the women coming from far away. Instructed by General Campbell before he left for the Uist islands to be particularly attentive to any travelers, they moved from their shelter and stood in the middle of the road, their rifles loaded and ready to be fired in case this was some form of ambush.

The two women walked up to the troopers, and the woman leading nodded and said “Good afternoon,” as they neared.

“Just a minute, Miss. Where do you think you’re going?” asked the Lieutenant.

“I’m going home,” she said. She was an attractive lady with gleaming black hair freshly washed in a stream and the open face of a Highlander. The woman behind her, though, was anything but attractive. She was tall and thin and walked with a stoop and an uncommon gait.

“And where’s your home” demanded the trooper.

“Why,” chuckled the lady. “Do you intend to visit me? Now what would my fiancé, Mr. Alan Macdonald, think about that?” Seductively, she continued, “if it’s your intention to search me, I’ll have to scream very loud. I hope that somebody will hear the cries of a maiden in distress . . .”

Flora looked at him, winked, and walked onward full of confidence and buoyancy. The two women were walking casually past, when one of the troopers asked, “And who’s this?”

The lady stopped and opened her bag, taking out a bottle of water. “This,” she said before taking a draft, “is my seamstress. Mistress Betty Burke.”

Flora said in Gaelic, “Say hello to the Englishmen, Betty.”

Betty looked up and nodded at both the men, saying in high falsetto Gaelic, “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“She’s from Ireland and has worked for me these two years past. She speaks not a word of English, but you’ll be pleased to know that she just wished you a good afternoon. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have five miles to walk before we reach Roskhill where there’s an Inn at which we’ll be spending the night.



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