‘That’s true. I know the dates of some events now, and the places where they happened, and my dad did find the proof of those.’
The mention of my father caught his interest. ‘Did you tell him?’
‘How I got the information? Yes. I didn’t have much choice.’
‘And what does he think about all of this?’
I didn’t know for certain what my father thought. ‘He said he’d keep an open mind.’ My tone turned dry. ‘I think he would have liked it better if I’d inherited the memory of Sophia’s husband, David McClelland. Daddy still has lots of blanks he’d like to fill in on that side.’
The doctor watched me closely for a minute. ‘I’d imagine that he’s envious.’
‘My father?’
‘Aye. And so am I. Who wouldn’t be? Most people dream of traveling through time.’
I knew that he was right. There’d been so many novels written round that premise, and so many movies made where people journeyed to the future, or the past, that it was clear to see the theme was an enduring one, a common human fantasy.
And one the doctor evidently shared. ‘And when I think what it would mean to have the memory of an ancestor, to see what they had seen…I told you, did I not, that one of my own ancestors was captain of a ship? He sailed to China, once, and to Japan. I might have his love of the sea, but I don’t have his actual memories.’ His eyes grew wistful. ‘And what memories they must have been—of storms at sea, and sailing round the Cape, and seeing China in the glory of its empire…who wouldn’t wish for that?’
I had no answer to his question, but it lingered in my mind when he had gone, as did his mention of the sea and of the men who’d sought their fortune on its waves. The wind was rising at my window, and a winging band of low white cloud was closing on the castle. And in my imagination—or my memory—it began to take the shape of something else.
XII
CAPTAIN GORDON’S SHIP HAD not been seen along the coast for so long that Sophia had begun to wonder what might have become of him. From time to time a dinner guest brought news of all the changes that were happening in Scotland and in England, from the Union of the nations, so she knew the Scottish navy had been feeling the effects of it as well, and she could only guess that Captain Gordon’s orders had been altered so that he no longer sailed according to his former course.
She was surprised, then, when she woke one bright blue morning in the last days of October and looked out to see the now-familiar masts and rigging of his ship at anchor close below the cliffs.
He had not changed. His features were as handsome and his manners were as gallant as before. ‘I swear, your Ladyship, each time I come to Slains young Mistress Paterson looks lovelier.’
He kissed her hand with warmth, and though Sophia did not welcome his attentions, she was nonetheless relieved to know that he, like all the others except Kirsty, had not noticed her condition. For in truth it did not show—she was but five months gone, her stomach still was flat, although it had begun to soften, and the fashion of her gowns was so forgiving that she knew it might be some time yet before she was found out. She felt quite healthy, with an energy that fired her from within and made her happy with the world. It was perhaps this radiance, she thought, that Captain Gordon had perceived.
He stayed to dinner, and when wine was poured he took his glass in hand and raised it in a toast to young King James. ‘God grant that he comes soon.’
The countess drank, and set her glass down, smiling. ‘Were it up to God alone, I do not doubt but that the king would have been here already. But God passes His affairs into the hands of men, and there the trouble lies.’
‘What says the Duke of Perth, your brother? He is there at Saint-Germain, and has the king’s ear, does he not? What does he take to be the cause of their delay?’
‘He tells me little in his letters, out of fear they will be read by other eyes than mine. But he is as impatient as the rest of us,’ she said. ‘I sense the problem does not lie at Saint-Germain, but at Versailles. The King of France does hold the purse-strings of this venture, after all, and the ships cannot set sail without his order.’
Captain Gordon said, ‘In their defense, I must admit the winds of late have not been very favorable. Last month when setting out from Yarmouth we were damaged so severely in a gale that we were forced to put back altogether, and a few weeks afterwards, when coming into Leith, we found the winds so bad that it was not until some three days after we had dropped our anchor that I could be rowed ashore. Not that I minded, for in truth I had all but exhausted my store of tricks for delaying the voyage.’
The earl asked him, ‘Why would you wish to do that?’
‘Why, to give the French fleet a fair run at our coast. I had hoped they would have brought young James across before now, for there was a long time when my ship and I were being settled into our positions in this new united Royal Navy of Great Britain. Both Captain Hamilton and I appeared before the Navy Board the first few days in August, to receive our new commissions and the new names of our ships, there being English ships already named the Royal William and the Royal Mary. My ship is now the Edinburgh, while Captain Hamilton’s is called the Glascow. After this our ships were both surveyed to judge how fit they were for service, which took time, and then both ships were ordered brought into a dry dock for refitting, so for all that time there was no ship assigned to cruise this northern coast. The king would have done well had he but seized that as his moment. But,’ he said, and shrugged, ‘for reasons that do pass my understanding, he did not, and I was after ordered northward. There was little I could do but make my progress slow, by means of varied misadventures. You’ll have heard, no doubt, what did befall the Edinburgh at Leith?’ He glanced around at their expectant faces. ‘No? Then you have been deprived of a diverting tale. My crew,’ he said, ‘did mutiny.’