They came on horseback, singly, from the shadowed lands that lay toward the north and the northwest. Sophia knew from their appearance and their bearing they were men of some importance, and although they were presented to her when they first arrived, as though they’d come for no more reason that to bid her welcome to the region, she knew well that this was simply a convenience, for each visitor was then conveyed to Colonel Hooke, in private, and remained with him some time.
The first to come had been announced as Lord John Drummond, which had stopped Sophia’s heart an awful moment, till she’d calmed herself with the assurance that her Uncle John could not have left his grave and come to Slains in cruel pursuit of her. And then, the countess, too, had understood, and had been quick to say, ‘Sophia, here is John, my nephew,’ and the man who entered was a younger man, and pleasant in his manner. He was, Sophia learned, the second son to that same Duke of Perth—the brother of the countess—who was spoken of so famously as living in such closeness with the exiled king, and young Lord Drummond did not hide the fact that he, too, was a Jacobite.
Sophia had suspected, these past days, beginning with the warning of the countess that she might hear things and see things that would play upon her conscience, that the coming of the colonel and of Mr Moray might, as its design, involve some plot among those nobles who would bring King James to Scotland and restore him to his throne.
Such things were never spoken of before her, but she’d noticed that, although the countess and the two men did not drink the king’s health at the dinner table, they did pass their goblets casually above the water jug, and from her uncle’s house Sophia knew this meant they drank the health of him ‘over the water’， meaning of the king in exile just across the English Channel.
She knew this, yet she held her tongue, because she did not wish to vex the countess by revealing what she understood of everything now happening at Slains. The countess was so occupied and busy with her guests and with the messengers who came and went at all hours from the castle that Sophia felt her own place was to keep herself well out of things and keep the countess happy by pretending to be ignorant.
She knew that Colonel Hooke did think her so, though she was not convinced of Mr Moray. His grey eyes were wont to watch her with a quiet concentration that did not appear to waver from its purpose, although what that purpose might have been, Sophia could not say. She only guessed that he saw much, and was not easily deceived. But in that instance, and if he was as intelligent a man as she believed, he also would have seen her feelings were in sympathy with theirs, and that they need have no worry that she would betray them. Whatever Mr Moray’s knowledge, he did nothing, for his part, to raise the question of her being trusted in their company.
And so the first days passed, and brought the visitors, with names belonging to the greater families of the north—the Laird of Boyne, and later, Lord Saltoun, the chief of one branch of the house of Fraser. And behind them all came the Lord High Constable himself, the Earl of Erroll.
Sophia thought him more impressive than his portrait; young, but careful with his actions and his words, and with his mother’s independent mind. There was around the man a certain energy, as of a banked-up fire that might, at any moment, flare to life.
He made a vital contrast to poor Colonel Hooke, whose health, since his arrival at the castle, had continued to be troublesome.
The Earl of Erroll, noticing, remarked upon this, and the colonel answered him, ‘I fear that I am still much out of order with my voyage. Indeed, I have been indisposed since we did leave Versailles.’
Which was the first time that the French king’s court had been so openly referred to, and Colonel Hooke, as though just realizing his carelessness, glanced quickly at Sophia, as did everybody else. Except the Earl of Erroll. He simply carried on to ask, ‘And I do trust that you left both their majesties, the King of France, and our King James, in all good health and spirits?’
There was silence for an instant, then the countess warned him, ‘Charles…’
‘What, Mother?’ Shrugging off his cloak, he turned his gaze toward Sophia, as the others had, his own expression showing no concern. ‘She is a member of our family, is she not?’
The countess said, ‘Of course, but—’
‘Well, then I would warrant she has wit enough to know the way things are with us. She does not look a fool. Are you a fool?’ he asked Sophia.
She did not know how to answer with so many eyes upon her, but she raised her chin a little and quite bravely shook her head.