Free The Counterfeit Madam by Pat McIntosh

agreed. My godmother must have given us back the wrong document yestreen. She must have the other still in Attie’s bag.’
    ‘Aye, you’re right,’ said Sempill in faint surprise, peering over her shoulder. ‘The auld – woman must have been mistook in that and all. We’ll ha to get the right one off her.’
    ‘Might I see that one?’ Gil accepted it back and spread it flat, studying the peripheral wording. It seemed clear enough and perfectly in order; Thomas Livingstone and Isabella Torrance his wife had taken sasine of the lands detailed, in joint possession, on a date in 1490. He drew out his tablets and found a clean leaf.
    ‘What are you writing?’ demanded Sempill suspiciously.
    ‘The names of the witnesses,’ Gil replied. ‘And the factor who acted for the Earl of Lennox. One of them might recall the name of the man of law, if Dame Isabella won’t tell me. I need to establish who has the right to this land before my sister’s marriage.’
    ‘I’d as soon it was put straight too,’ agreed Magdalen Boyd. ‘She’d not hear my questions yestreen, grew angry when I tried to persist, so I left the matter, but—’
    ‘Here’s her man Attie now,’ said Sempill, straightening up to stare at the window. ‘Just crossing the yard.’
    ‘Maybe she’s sent the other deed,’ said his wife. Sempill snorted, and turned to watch one of his cousin’s servants make her way across the hall in response to the knocking at the door. Gil finished making notes and checked carefully again that the name of the man who had drawn up the document was not recorded, and suddenly realized that both Sempill and his wife were exclaiming in surprise and shock.
    ‘But what can have happened?’ Lady Magdalen said. ‘She was in good health yesterday. John, did you see her just now? Was she well?’
    ‘Just – oh, just the now? Same as she was yesterday – in full voice,’ said Sempill, ‘calling me for all sorts over nothing. I’d no ha looked for her to drop down dead either. What happened, man?’
    ‘We’re no certain,’ said the man Attie, his livery bonnet held against his chest. ‘She was well enow when Annot left her to – to her prayers, but when she returned there she was—’ He crossed himself, and Sempill did likewise, pale blue eyes round with astonishment. Lady Magdalen bent her head and murmured something. ‘We’re thinking maybe she took an apoplexy, or her heart failed her, or the like. Maister Livingstone’s sent for a priest, but—’
    Gil looked round the dismayed faces and pulled off his own hat.
    ‘Are you saying Dame Isabella’s dead? This morning?’
    ‘Aye,’ said Sempill sourly. ‘So the man says. Trust the auld woman to thwart me in her last deed. So you can just fold that up and let me have it back,’ he added, pointing at the document Gil still held.
    ‘John,’ said his wife reprovingly. ‘There’s none of us can ken the moment of our death.’
    ‘But how?’ Gil asked. ‘What came to her?’ His mind was working rapidly as he spoke. Lady Magdalen’s transaction would probably be unaffected, but Tib’s marriage gift would almost certainly not reach her now, so the question of whether the lands in Strathblane were Dame Isabella’s to dispose of was a matter for the Livingstone family and not for him. He began to fold the crackling parchment. ‘What came to her?’ he repeated.
    Attie shook his head.
    ‘We’re no certain,’ he said again. ‘Annot left her in her chamber, like I said, and when she gaed back in, there she was on the floor, and stone dead.’
    ‘Did you fetch a priest to her?’demanded Sempill.
    ‘Maister Livingstone has sent for one, Attie says,’ Lady Magdalen reminded him.
    ‘Has anyone else seen her?’ Gil asked. ‘You’re certain she’s dead, no just fallen in a stupor? An apoplexy can be—’
    ‘I’m no sure,’ admitted Attie, ‘for I never saw her, but Annot’s in the hysterics and Maister Livingstone tellt the household she was