The Counterfeit Madam Read Online Free PDF Page A

and then at Sempill’s wife.
    ‘The house called the Mermaiden,’ he said. ‘A pleasure-garden, a kaleyard, stables, other offices. It’s quite a property, madam. Are you certain you want to offer it to the boy, with or without the sitting tenant?’
    Magdalen Boyd raised her head to look him in the eye.
    ‘I am quite certain,’ she said. ‘I don’t go back on my word.’
    ‘I’ll swear to it and all,’ said Sempill. ‘The brat can have both the properties, so long as his keepers accept that he’s no my heir any longer. Name me any relics you please, I’ll swear.’
    ‘John.’ His wife turned to him. He glanced at her, went red, and muttered some apology. Gil registered this exchange and set it aside to consider later.
    ‘We need time to think about your proposal,’ he said. ‘The harper ought to be present, and Pierre and I should consult—’
    ‘They’ve naught to do wi it!’ said Sempill. ‘It was you that signed the last time as the brat’s tutor, you’ll do this time!’
    ‘I am agreed wi my nephew,’ said the Official, lifting his tablets. He found a suitable leaf, and began to smooth out the previous notes in the wax with the blunt end of his stylus. ‘This is no simple conveyancing matter, John, the conditions you set need a bit thought. At the least,’ he paused, deciphering a word in the document, ‘the boy’s well-wishers have to inspect the properties.’
    ‘We could do that now,’ suggested Philip Sempill.
    ‘They’re exactly as it says there!’ said his cousin indignantly. ‘I’m no trying to—’
    ‘John.’
    ‘Maidie drives an honest bargain,’ said Dame Isabella as Sempill fell silent. ‘You’ve no need to worry. So how long will you want to think it over, Gilbert? Will you sort it afore your sister’s marriage, d’ye think?’
    Gil met her gaze again. The black beads glittered at him, and he said politely,
    ‘Oh, sooner than that, madam. Give me two days.’
    ‘Right,’ began Sempill.
    ‘But before we depart,’ Gil pursued, ‘maybe you’d let me have a sight of the documents for the two properties you’re planning to gift your goddaughters, madam.’
    Maister Alexander Livingstone straightened up, paying attention at that.
    ‘Aye,’ said Dame Isabella after a moment. ‘No such a bad notion. Attie, you scatterwit, bring me those documents again. And a course there’s the other matter and all,’ she added, delving in the bag as her goddaughter had done and passing two wads of parchment across. Beside her Lowrie fidgeted, clearly embarrassed.
    ‘Two mile from Carluke,’ Canon Cunningham read, unfolding one docket. ‘Banks of the Clyde – oh, aye, I ken the property. A generous gift, madam.’ He removed his spectacles to peer at Dame Isabella. ‘My niece is fortunate in her godmother.’
    ‘Aye, but she hasn’t got the land yet,’ the old woman pointed out. ‘It’s that or the other. I’ve yet to make up my mind.’
    ‘The house of Ballencleroch, together wi the whole Clachan of Campsie.’ Gil had reached the description of the boundaries on the second document. ‘Stretching up the Campsie Burn to the edge of the muirland.’
    ‘What?’ Sempill straightened up sharply, and his back-stool tilted on its carved legs. He caught himself before all went flying, and stared from Gil to his wife. ‘Up the Campsie Burn? I thought that was yours already! You said – your man said—’
    ‘No, John. That was never mine.’
    ‘What’s this?’ demanded Dame Isabella. ‘Aye, Ballen-cleroch’s mine. What ails ye, John?’
    He frowned at her, chewing his lip, and clearly trying to recall something.
    ‘I thought it was Maidie’s,’ he repeated.
    ‘Balgrochan is mine, that lies next to it, east along Strathblane,’ said hs wife gently.
    ‘Balgrochan,’ Sempill repeated. ‘No Ballencleroch?’
    ‘I gied Balgrochan to Maidie when you were wedded,’ pronounced Dame Isabella in her harsh deep voice. ‘As you ken well, you light-fingered