“And that’s why you had their graves disturbed?” Gage guessed.
Mr. Stuart nodded dejectedly. “I tried to forget. I . . . I tried to forgive. But then they trumped up those ridiculous charges of treason against me . . .” he shook his head “. . . and I just couldn’t let it go. But by the time I could do anything about it, Ian Tyler had already passed away.”
“But I thought you said the only men involved in 1817 were Lord Buchan, Sir Colum, and a Lord Demming.” When he didn’t reply, I arched my eyebrows in scolding. “Or did you lie?”
He flushed sheepishly and dropped his gaze to the tattered rug at his feet.
I sighed. What was one more lie next to everything he’d already revealed?
“And so you waited until the last of them had died,” I surmised. “Until Lord Buchan finally passed away a little over a year ago.”
He met my gaze. “If I couldn’t get my revenge in life, then I would have it in death. This way no one else would be hurt, unlike my Evie. Except . . .” he paused, his mouth pressing together tightly “. . . I didn’t count on that caretaker at Dryburgh Abbey. I told the body snatchers not to harm anyone, to only take the bones, but . . . they didn’t listen.”
I glanced at Gage, curious to see what his reaction was to this story, but I had difficulty deciphering whether he was reacting to Mr. Stuart’s words or the pain from his injuries.
He stared at the Frenchman through heavy-lidded eyes. “You tried to stop, didn’t you? After Lord Buchan, after Dodd’s death?”
Mr. Stuart clasped his hands together like he was praying, his eyes pleading with us to understand. “Yes. I tried to stop. But these men I’d hired, they would not let me. I’d already made the mistake of telling them there would be four ransoms, and they wanted the money from the last. I told them to bribe the watchman at Beckford. That it would confuse the investigators.”
Gage grunted as he pushed himself more upright, and I reached out to help him, but he held me off. “What makes you think they would have let you stop after Lord Fleming?”
He shook his head. “I knew they wouldn’t. But they could not continue without me. They do not know which graves are lucrative to steal the bodies from. Not without my marking them.”
“With red sealing wax?” I guessed.
He nodded. “That is why I waited to send the ransom note until today. I’ve booked passage on a ship that sails from Berwick tomorrow.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “If I leave the country, they cannot force me to help them.”
He rose to pass the paper to me before retaking his seat. I held it out so that Gage could see. It was indeed boarding papers for a ship leaving Berwick on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth of January 1831.
“Well, that explains why you chose today for the ransom,” Gage admitted. “But it doesn’t explain why you waited so long to send the ransom note. It says here, you purchased this ticket four days ago.”
Mr. Stuart’s face flushed a pale shade of pink. “I hoped that by sending it too late, you and Lady Darby would not arrive in time to follow the mare. That I could keep you out of harm’s way.”
I glanced at Gage in question.
“Yes,” Mr. Stuart said. “The Edinburgh men saw you follow the mare when you paid the ransom for Lord Buchan. They were determined to be ready for you, to teach you a lesson this time.”
“So you tied my handkerchief to the yew tree to warn us,” I guessed.
He nodded.
“You could have sent us a message,” I pointed out crossly.
A furrow appeared between his eyes. “Yes. You’re absolutely right. But I’d hoped to leave the country undetected, or at least unapprehended,” he admitted. “I was worried that if I sent you a letter, you and Mr. Gage would search me out directly.”
I didn’t tell the man that we’d already been doing so, and neither did Gage.
I sighed, leaning my forehead on my hand. So what was to be done now?
Before I could ask aloud, the sound of a pair of fast-moving hoofbeats could be heard outside the window. We all rose to our feet, including Gage, even though I protested.
“Have they come back?” Maggie gasped in terror, her hands pleating the front of her dress as she backed farther into the room. It was clear, if nothing else was, that she would not be happy to see them.
“Stay back,” Gage ordered me and Maggie as he, Trevor, and Anderley moved forward to peer through the ragged curtains on the windows.
I gripped the frightened girl’s hand, holding my breath as the horse slowed and then stopped. I listened carefully to be sure, but yes, it was only a single rider.
“Trevor,” we heard a man yell. “Trevor, are you in there?”