The old butler opened the big doors a little as the rider dismounted and walked slowly up the steps, smiling as he came.
“I’m here to see Lady Anne Farquharson,” the man said.
“Is Lady Anne Mackintosh expecting you, sir?” Frasier was not impressed by the man’s manners or his appearance.
“No, but she’ll want to speak to me.”
Frasier made no attempt to open the doors to allow him in. “Are you trade? Because the tradesman’s entrance is at the rear, behind the stable.”
“No, I’m not trade.” The man smiled.
“Then whom should I say is calling?”
“Metzger. Jacob Naham Metzger.” The man bowed slightly.
Frasier was even less impressed. A man can call himself anything he pleases. It doesn’t make him a gentleman. He looked him over slowly. Even allowing for the fact he had probably ridden a long way, the man was unkempt, dirty, and his clothes fitted badly. The wide cuffs of his long, powder-blue coat looked like polished leather with the ingrained dirt and grease, and his calf-length socks were odd and held up by old twine. Clearly he hadn’t visited a tailor.
Metzger watched him. People judged him by his dress. Few noticed his weapons, and they told the true story. In the scabbard at his right hip hung a fine short sabre, and next to that, a meticulously maintained German pistol was pushed into his belt. The clothes were there to mislead, and that had cost many a man his life.
“Please wait here. I shall see if Lady Anne will see you.”
The man bowed again and turned to take in the view across the misty loch.
A minute later Frasier opened the door and stepped aside. “Lady Anne will see you. In the library.”
Metzger stepped in out of the cold and waited while the old man closed the door. Very slowly. It was a slight, but it didn’t touch him. He had plenty of time.
Frasier led the way across the wide hallway, knocked once on the library door, and opened it. “Mister Jacob Naham Metzger, my lady.” He stepped aside to let the man enter, then closed the door.
Anne was sitting at a big, leather-topped writing desk and looked up from the letter she’d been writing. “How can I help you, Mister Metzger?”
“Please, call me Jacob.”
“Thank you, Mister Metzger. It’s a cold day. Can I get you some tea?”
“No tea, thank you.”
“Then, Mister Metzger, shall we get down to business?”
Metzger smiled. He liked this woman. She was efficient and not bowed by the fact he was a man. She reminded him of his mother.
He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the big windows overlooking the garden. He saw John’s three girls playing among the shrubs. “Children?” He looked back. “I have to say I’m surprised.”
“Why would you be?” Anne tilted her head and watched the man’s face. There was something about him that raised alarm. And made her skin crawl.
He looked back out of the window. “I understood that you and Angus were childless.”
“I don’t believe that is any of your business.”
“No, of course it isn’t.” He looked back and smiled a smile his cold eyes didn’t share.
“Then let’s get to the reason for your visit.”
He turned from the window. “Of course, forgive me for wasting your time.” He walked around to the front of the writing desk and looked down at her. “I’m looking for Calum Maclean.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Then I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time coming here. I don’t know him.”
He smiled again. “Oh, but I think you do.” He waved a hand. “Never mind, it doesn’t alter anything.” He put his hands on the desk and leaned towards her.
She sat back away from the smell of his breath. “I think your business here is done. Good day, Mister Metzger.”
“Oh, I’m in no hurry.” He returned to look out of the windows. “Girls are fortunate, are they not?”
She opened the desk drawer slowly. “In what way are they fortunate?” She didn’t care.
He was silent for a little while, then looked back. “The bond they have with their mothers. It’s different.”
The alarm in Anne’s head was clanging like a cathedral bell. She decided to talk to the man, to win his trust m’be. Or at least to glean his true intentions. “Mothers and daughters do have a special relationship, but so do mothers and sons. Do they not?”
He turned sharply. “In your world, perhaps!”
She stood up.
“Forgive me.” He raised his hands as if in surrender.
“Nothing to forgive,” she lied. “You were talking about your relationship with your mother.” It was a reach, but it might keep him talking. Angus was due home at any time.
“Was I?” He frowned and looked back through the window. “I always knew she had to love me and that our relationship was going to be very special, but I saw the way she looked at her husband—”
“Your father?” Anne glanced quickly at the open drawer.
He frowned deeply. “Yes, I suppose he was.”
Now real fear crept up her back like ripples of ice water.
“It was better when he’d gone.” He turned from the window, but his eyes weren’t focused on the room, they were elsewhere. “She forgave me, of course. I believe she was secretly grateful. Then it was just the two of us, as it should always have been.” His shoulders sagged. “It’s been empty since she died. But it was her time. She was getting old… and ugly.” His hands were clenched and his knuckles stood out as white as bleached bone. “I try not to think about her now, but when I do, I delude myself in thinking she really did love me. A lie I know, but—” He strode to the desk and closed the drawer. His eyes were blazing as memories and pain raged through his mind like a torrent.
Anne stepped away from him.
He made a visible effort to pull himself together and put his hand on the desk to steady himself. “Now, Lady Anne,” he said breathlessly, “tell me where Calum Maclean is.”
She took another step towards the door, and he raised a finger. “I can see you’re a strong-willed woman, and I admire that. You wouldn’t tell me even if I tried to beat it out of you.”
She jumped visibly.
“Don’t worry, there’ll be no need for that.” He pointed at the window. “Your children?”
“No, they’re my cousin’s. I’m simply taking care of them while she’s away.”
“Very generous. Pretty girls.” He smiled again. “I believe you are about to tell me about Maclean.”
She shook her head and her heart pounded. Something terrible was coming.
“Oh, you will. Because, you see, if you don’t…” He smiled an awful smile. “I shall rape those little ones.” He raised his hands. “It will give me no pleasure.” He shook his head. “I don’t like girls. But as soon as they start screaming, you will tell me anything I want to know.”
The door opened suddenly and Frasier stepped into the doorway, a pistol shaking in his trembling hand.
Metzger smiled and crossed the room.
Frasier pulled the trigger and the hammer snapped down, but there was no shot.
Metzger took the flintlock from the old man’s fingers. “You have to prime the weapon first.” He held it out and pointed at the pan. He put his hand in his coat pocket. “But I do admire your courage.” He brought out a short knife, leaned forward and pushed the blade into Frasier’s chest, wiped it on the old man’s sleeve, and put it away. He closed the door as the butler fell.
Anne was holding a sword and clearly knew how to use it. Metzger tutted and put the flintlock on the desk. “This weapon is useless.” He pointed at the pistol. “But this one is in fine working order.” He pulled his pistol from his belt and squinted at it. “Ah, yes.” He looked up. “There’s still enough powder in the pan. That’s the problem with keeping it primed. The powder. But no need to worry on this occasion.” He pointed at Anne’s sword. “Now if you don’t mind…”
She remained still, the tip of the rapier pointing at him and her body flexed and ready to lunge.
He pulled the hammer back and cocked the pistol. “I can see you’re adept with that fine sword, Lady Anne, but I don’t think you could cover the… what is it? Eight feet? Yes. I don’t believe you could cover the eight feet between us before I shot you in the head.”
She lowered the sword slowly.
“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You were about to tell me where Calum Maclean is hiding.” He smiled. “And then you can go outside and play with the children.”