Gatehaven Read online

  He doubted that his pastor would advise him to become an assistant to a vicar in the English church. Still, he wanted to hear what he might say regarding the matter.

  Pastor Petit handed Ian a cup of warmed tea and settled onto the high-backed armchair facing him. “You are well, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes sir. I am well indeed.”

  “And your family?”

  “They are well, too.”

  The minister smiled. “Good.” He took a sip of tea, setting his cup on the small table beside the Bible. “Did you know that we are told in the Holy Scriptures to present our bodies to God as a living sacrifice? I was reading about it shortly before you came in.”

  “No Pastor, I did not. But it sounds reasonable, considering all the Lord has done for us.”

  “You are exactly right, and that scripture is found in the Book of Romans—chapter twelve and verse one.” He reached for his Bible, placing it on his lap. “I had a dream a night or two ago, Mr. Colquhoun, and in it, you were asking me questions—as you and other young people in the church often do. In the dream you said that when you give your body as a living sacrifice in prayer as Scripture says to do that a troubling thought often comes to your mind. You said that when you meant to say ‘I give my body as a living sacrifice,’ the words ‘I give my body to be burned’ comes to your mind instead.”

  “Yes, I’ve had troubling dreams like that.” Ian leaned forward slightly in his chair. “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “So what is the meaning of your dream, sir?” Ian asked.

  “Only God knows the meaning of dreams. But if we wish to pray or do as God tells us to do and something like a voice or voices tells us to say or do something contrary to the Scriptures, we must assume that the devil is attempting to somehow hinder our Christian walk.”

  A shiver shot through him. “You mean Satan?”

  “Yes. But don’t take my word for it. I could be wrong. Read the Bible for yourself.”

  Ian gazed down at his cup without saying anything more. His pastor was a true man of God, and he’d given Ian something new and different to think about. But it might take time before the words took root in his mind. Pastor Petit had presented him with many deep teachings in the last year or so—teachings he’d never had the time to mediate on as he should. If he decided to go to England with Shannon and the earl, he would have many hours to think on these things during the long journey to the earl’s estate.

  “Thank you for that teaching, sir. You can be sure that I will think on your words again.” Ian took a sip of tea, wondering if he should jump in with questions of his own or allow the minister to say more on the current topic. He’d allowed the old gentleman to control the conversation. Was it time to explain the reason for his visit?

  After a moment, Ian said, “You know, Pastor, that I felt called to go into the ministry years before I told my family. And I wanted you to be the first to know that I might soon have the opportunity to travel to England and become the assistant to a minister there.”

  “What a wonderful opportunity for a young man like you, Mr. Colquhoun. Going to England will not only broaden your horizons, it will help you develop as a man of God. What is the name of the clergy you will be working under? It is possible I might have heard of him.”

  “I doubt you would have.” Ian hesitated, sending up a quick prayer for the courage to continue. “You see, if I choose to take this assignment, I will be serving under a vicar in the British church.”

  “The British church? I am indeed surprised. How did this come to be? And you a loyal Scotsman.”

  “Miss Shannon Aimee hopes to pay a visit to the home of the Earl of Northon—well chaperoned of course, but I dare not trust the earl. Miss Aimee told of the possible opportunity for me to become the assistant to the earl’s confessor, and I—”

  “Say no more. I think I understand your motive here.” The pastor lifted his cup to his lips and took a sip of tea. “You wish to protect Miss Aimee from what could be a dangerous situation.”

  “That is my hope. Otherwise, I would never consider traveling all the way to Gatehaven.”

  The pastor’s eyes widened. “Gatehaven, did you say?”

  “Yes. That is the name of the earl’s estate.”

  The pastor grew pale. Before Ian could make a comment, the old man pulled a white cloth from the belt of his dark clothing and wiped his brow.

  Ian rushed to his side. “Are you all right, sir?”

  “I will be. Give me a moment.”

  Ian reached for his tea, pressing it to the pastor’s lips. “Here, sir, drink this.”

  Pastor Petit swallowed a mouthful of tea. Then he closed his eyes and pressed his head against the back of his chair.

  “Should I go for a physician?”

  “No. I am not ill. Merely surprised.” The pastor opened his eyes. “But this is all so peculiar.”

  “Peculiar? How is that so, sir?”

  The pastor’s smile looked weak. “Sometimes the Lord answers prayer in unusual ways.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “My cousin was murdered in England some years ago.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Yes. Her name was Magdalena Petit, and she was thirty-five years of age when she died. It was tragic for my late wife and me because Magdalena was always very special to us. We never had any children of our own, and when Magdalena’s parents died, she lived with us for several years. Magdalena was also a Huguenot, and during her eighteenth year, she moved back to England to live with an older sister. However, we corresponded often. My wife and I were devastated to learn of her death— doubly so because her murderer was never found.”

  “Sure and that is a tragedy, Pastor Petit.”

  “Indeed. I’d been praying that the person who killed Magdalena would come to justice. Three years ago, I started corresponding with a vicar in England whose parish is near Gatehaven—the very estate you mentioned. I think the vicar there might know more about my cousin’s death than he is willing to say in a letter. Perhaps he fears the letter might fall into unfriendly hands. The vicar has suggested several times that I journey to England and pay him a visit so we can discuss this crime face-to-face. However, I cannot leave my flock here in Scotland. I will soon leave the village for good and retire to the country in my old age. However, you could go as my ambassador, Mr. Colquhoun, if the position is offered to you and you go to England partly on my behalf.”

  “I am not a member of the Church in England, sir,” Ian explained. “As you well know, I am a member of the Reformed Church. Of what benefit would becoming the assistant to an English vicar be to me?”

  The pastor leaned forward. Ian noted that a bit of color had returned to his cheeks.

  “Much good could come of this, Mr. Colquhoun. Not only would you be protecting a young woman’s honor, you might also bring a criminal to justice, and you should gain much from working under my friend, the vicar. He is a true man of God, and he reads his Bible daily.” The pastor motioned toward a desk by the door leading to the other room. “I have received many letters since the vicar penned a letter to me the first time, and I have kept them all. I keep them in the drawer of my desk, and I want you to have them.”

  “I cannot take your letters, sir.”

  “It would be a gift to you from me and my late cousin.”

  “But I am not sure I will be given the position in England that I mentioned.”

  “Take the letters and read them even if you are not selected. I beg you. You will please an old man if you do.”

  Ian opened the drawer that his pastor mentioned and found a stack of letters tied with a black ribbon and arranged by date. He felt a little uncomfortable taking them to his house and reading them, but at the same time, the idea intrigued him.

  That night, Ian opened the first one.

  Dear Pastor Petit,

  My named is Mr. E.G. Steen, and I am a vicar serving at a parish in England near Gatehav
en—an estate owned by the Earl of Northon. While on holiday in London recently, I met the son of another English earl at a church, and he told me about a terrible injustice. He said that a Frenchwoman living in England by the name of Magdalena Petit was murdered twenty years ago. Her house was burned to the ground, and her murderer was never found.

  After I returned home, I could not forget what the gentleman told me—as if it had been nailed to my mind. A few days after that, I read a list of pastors living in Scotland in a post I received from a friend from another village. When I read your name on that list I thought of Magdalena Petit. I cannot help but wonder if you might be related to her.

  It would be advantageous to both of us if we could discuss this mystery in more detail. But in any case, I hope to hear from you soon.

  Respectfully,

  E.G. Steen, Rector

  Saint Thomas Church

  Fairs, England

  Seated at his father’s desk in the small sitting room of his family home, Ian put the letter back on the stack. To think that God might use him to help bring a murderer to justice was more than he ever thought possible. He would need to pray now and read the Bible to learn God’s will for his life. It seemed incredible that the Lord might use him in this way, and the fact that he might also be able to protect Shannon made going to England sound very appealing.

  A frosty spring followed the winter the earl arrived in Scotland, and spring melted into early summer. Shannon spent her days and many nights helping her mother with the new baby—rarely seeing the earl except at church on Sunday mornings. He must have stayed away because he knew how her parents felt about him. Yet his loyalty to Shannon made her love him all the more, and he never failed to mention their approaching marriage each time they met.

  But now it was mid-June. The arrangements for her journey to England were completed. Shannon sat by a window in the sitting room owned by Ian’s parents, gazing out at the Loch. All that was left to do was say goodbye to her friends and loved ones.

  On the morrow, she would be leaving for England, and though she still dreamed of going there, leaving those she loved made a part of her feel sad. Somehow, looking out at the Loch gave her the strength she needed to say good-bye to her best friend—Kate Colquhoun.

  Kate leaned toward her. “Do you truly love the earl that much?”

  Shannon heard a creaking sound nearby. “What was that?”

  “Maybe it was the wind.” Kate shrugged. “It is often windy here— probably because we live so near the Loch.” She paused briefly. “You have yet to answer my question.”

  Seated on the settee with Kate beside her, Shannon whispered her reply in case Kate’s younger sisters happened to be within earshot. She had heard something, and she didn’t think it was the wind.

  The younger Colquhoun girls often listened to conversations while hidden from view, and when she first came in, Shannon had thought she heard the creak of a wooden floor plank near where they sat now.

  “Do you love the earl, Shannon, or not?”

  Shannon blinked and nodded. “I love him as much as you love my brother, Peter. Maybe more.”

  “Well, if you are sure, that is all I really wanted to know.” Kate smiled. “I want you to be happy. You are my oldest and dearest friend. I only want the best for you.”

  “Kate, I love you, too. You know that. I just hope my brother is the man you really want to spend the rest of your life with. He can be a little—”

  “I know you and Peter have never gotten along,” Kate said softly. “But I love him and always will.”

  “Then I am happy for you and glad that one day you will be my sister.”

  “I am honored to be your future sister as well as Peter’s wife.”

  Shannon released a deep breath. “I wish I could stay longer, but I must go.” She got up and glanced toward the door. “I promised to help Mama bathe my baby brother before she puts him down for his afternoon nap. Besides, I have last minute packing to do.”

  Kate smiled as she got up and stood beside Shannon.

  “How is the baby doing?”

  “Thriving. I think he’s going to be as tall as Peter. Maybe even as tall as Ian.” Shannon reached out and embraced her friend. “I’m going to miss you, Kate Colquhoun.”

  “As I will miss you and Ian. Please, Shannon, promise to write often. I know Ian will not, and I want to keep informed on the doings of my brother and my best friend.”

  Their good-bye was an emotional one—at least for Shannon. Afraid she might break down and weep if she said more, Shannon reached out and hugged Kate again. n

  Ian was the one who had been standing in the shadows listening, but he never meant to do it. He’d come in the back way about the time Shannon entered through the front door of the cottage.

  He’d read all of Pastor Petit’s letters and longed to share them with Shannon, but she was too devoted to the earl to listen to his concerns. He also had news for Kate.

  He hadn’t counted on Shannon coming over to visit his sister, and he hadn’t wanted to spoil their emotional farewell. However, he was tired of standing there, waiting. If Shannon hadn’t left when she did, he would have made himself known to them.

  Peter was on his way over to speak to Kate. It was important that Shannon not know what Peter had to say.

  Kate shut the door and crossed to the archway leading to the dining room. Ian stepped out from behind a large china cabinet and stood in her path.

  “Well, Ian. How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough. I came in to tell you that Peter is on his way over.”

  Kate smiled. “Peter is coming here?”

  “Yes.”

  Kate pushed back a lock of her curly brown hair that had fallen across her forehead. “What is this all about, Ian?”

  “That is what I planned to tell you. But when I saw that Shannon was here, I decided to wait until she left. I did not wish to interrupt your conversation, and if I had moved an inch, you would have known I was here.”

  “And all this time I thought our little sisters were the eavesdroppers in the family.”

  “I’m sorry, but it was necessary.” He motioned toward the settee in the sitting room where Kate and Shannon were seated earlier. “Let us sit down, and I will explain.”

  Kate sat down stiffly, her arms across her chest. “Now, what is this all about?”

  “Peter’s parents do not feel comfortable having Shannon go to England with a group of strangers. They were pleased that I took the mentoring position Shannon mentioned and that I will be going to England. But they want a member of their family to go along as well. Therefore, Peter is also going.”

  “My Peter is going to England, and he never told me. I do not believe it.”

  “It is true, Kate. Peter will be here shortly to tell you himself.”

  “If Peter was going to England, Shannon would have told me.”

  “Shannon doesn’t know.”

  “You mean his own sister was never told?”

  “Her parents thought it best that she not know, and you must promise not to tell her.”

  “We share everything. Of course I will tell her.”

  “Peter and I believe that the earl is not the noble soul Shannon thinks he is, but we have no proof of that. Therefore, Peter will be trailing us to England—staying at inns near the earl’s estate but out of sight. He will also be seeking temporary employment there, and together, we will continue our investigation of the earl Shannon is so fond of.”

  “Shannon is in love with the earl, Ian,” Kate said softly. “You must face that truth before you are hurt more than you already are.”

  “I know she thinks she is in love with him. As our pastor would say, we will see how she feels once the scales are removed from her eyes.”

  Early the next morning, Ian climbed in the second carriage behind the one that Shannon, the chaperone, and the earl would be riding in. The earl’s valet and Miss Foster’s maid sat stiffly, facing each other on the
opposite side of the carriage.

  The three of them met briefly a week ago, so there was no need for introductions. Ian greeted them cordially, sitting down beside Dickson, the valet, but close to the window. Dickson and Polly, the maid, were about Ian’s age.

  Polly looked scared to death until she and Dickson realized they came from the same village not far from Luss and that they knew each other as children. All at once the two of them were chattering between themselves like a couple of crows on a fencepost. But Ian probably wouldn’t have known them when he was a child even if they were from Luss.

  He’d attended a school for rich young gentleman in England when he was a boy—except he wasn’t rich or English. Ian’s father was the second son of the Laird of the village, meaning his uncle got the title, the family home, and all monies the family had. Ian’s father got nothing. Perhaps Uncle George paid for Ian’s schooling in England to mute a guilty conscious.

  Ian had several conferences with his pastor since the one he had on the day Shannon told him of her plans to marry the earl. In each meeting he learned something new about the Bible he’d never known previously. But some of the things they discussed were about the dark forces of this world and how to combat them. His chores on the farm and other family duties kept his mind and body occupied, and the long journey ahead would give him time to think on the things he’d learned and how to apply them in his daily life.

  For now, he would sit here and wait. Shannon and her chaperone would be arriving soon, and he hoped to watch as she and the earl entered the head carriage in front of themn.

  At daybreak on that same morning—before the cock crowed—Peter Aimee had mounted his brown-colored horse and galloped to the edge of the village. He hid behind an abandoned mill and watched as his younger sister climbed into the carriage with the Earl of Northon and his maiden aunt, Miss Foster.