Free Tapestry by Fiona McIntosh Page A

ships are docked at Le-Havre-de-Grâce, loaded with men numbering two thousand and well equipped with weapons ready to sail to Dumbarton .
    ‘ Mar’s army is camped at Perth. The highlanders number nearly five thousand. Lord Argyll’s forces are outnumbered sorely, and I am one of those who believe we must take our chances and overpower the English now, for we are scarce of weapons and ammunition for prolonged battle. Our spirits remain high, dear Win, but keeping our men’s minds on the fight and their tinder dry is the challenge. Even you knowest the mindset of the highlander. His attention wanders, and if we do not keep him amused in fighting and marching, he will become bored and be consumed by other amusements .’
    ‘’Tis true,’ Mary agreed.
    Winifred turned the page. ‘ The weather is infernal and the terrible roads we travel are scarce more than bridle tracks. I should avoid them like the devil in any other situation. We are frozen most of the time and often so soaked to the skin that nary a fire can dry us, but we are heart-full of optimism, my love. I shall write again soon — my next letter surely from England and more triumphant .’
    Her voice broke slightly as she began the next sentence but steadied swiftly at Cecilia’s soft squeeze of her arm. ‘ Kiss Anne for me, my best to dear Mary and Charles, and I send this with all my love, and my urgings to you to stay cheerful and strong. I do love you with —’
    She blushed and shrugged.
    Mary hugged her. ‘Let his sweet words be yours alone, Winifred. Come, Linton, we have work to do.’ Cecilia followed them.
    Winifred stood in the front doorway of Traquair House, her hands still chilled but aching, as they had begun to slowly thaw from being indoors. She used the murky sunlight filtering through cloud to read again the letter from her sorely missed husband, especially his declaration of love for her and their son and daughter.
    He was unharmed and still optimistic, and these things were all that mattered to Winifred. She cast a prayer, her eyes closed, his letter clasped to her breast. ‘Oh, dear Lord, please let Will live,’ she whispered.

SIX
    London, December 1978
    I n the taxi Jane could have sworn she heard faint words, as if from a great distance. She accepted that it was probably the echo of her own fervent hope, communing with her in prayer. ‘Please let Will live,’ she repeated in her mind, and snatched away a tear that had just welled up and threatened to spill down her cheek.
    She stared at the shops passing her by and realised everything was suddenly irritating her — especially everyone else’s tears, their stolen glances of sympathy, the pity that seemed to permeate the bubble of chaos she walked around in. Even her parents’ whispered mutterings in the taxi were getting on her nerves.
    ‘Darling?’ her mother said as Jane asked the cabbie to pull over. That word darling could mean so much coming from her mum — everything from a question, to an admonishment, to the endearment it normally expressed.
    ‘I’m going to walk back to the hotel,’ Jane said. She tried to sound affable, but even she heard in her tone a warning for them not to argue.
    It didn’t faze Catelyn. ‘It’s miles. Plus it’s raining.’
    ‘Mum … please. We’re on the Strand. It’s not miles. It’s about ten minutes and it’s always raining in London. I have an umbrella.’
    ‘You’re sure?’ her dad offered, but only because her mother had glared at him to say something.
    Jane reached for an excuse. ‘I just want some air.’
    Mercifully, her mother seemed to understand that what her daughter really wanted was to be alone. ‘Don’t get lost, darling.’
    ‘You need some rest, Jane,’ her father cautioned out of the taxi window. ‘By that I mean sleep. Total switch-off.’
    She gave him a sad, tight smile of agreement, saying, ‘I won’t be long,’ and lifted a hand in farewell as the taxi eased back into the traffic. Absently