The Prisoner by Karyn Monk

back.”
    â€œâ€™Twas quite a scandal at the time,” said Eunice, laying more cakes on the griddle. “Everyone in Inveraray could talk of nothing else. Of course, no respectable household would take the poor lass in. And so she left. Most folk thought she had family that she could go to, but if she did, they dinna let her stay, for a few weeks later she was back again, round as a melon with no work and no money. And then she stole some apples and a bun, and she was sentenced to two months in jail.”
    Haydon paused in his eating, appalled. “They put a pregnant girl in jail for stealing some apples?”
    â€œMakes ye wonder about what they call justice, don’t it, laddie?” Oliver shook his head in disgust.
    â€œWhat happened then?”
    â€œWell, Cora knew Miss Genevieve had a soft heart, and so she sent word to her,” continued Eunice. “And when Miss Genevieve went, Cora begged her forgiveness, and asked her if she could see it in her heart to take the bairn when it was born.”
    â€œHow could Genevieve take the child if she was dependent upon her stepmother’s charity?” wondered Haydon.
    â€œShe couldn’t. And that’s what she told poor Cora. Miss Genevieve was scarcely eighteen years old at the time, and was betrothed to the Earl of Linton. Her father had arranged the match afore he died, and because he believed her future was secure, he hadn’t taken the precaution of leavin’ her any money. He did give her this house an’ a few paintings and such—perhaps in the hope that they might be passed down to his future grandchildren. Miss Genevieve’s stepmother got all the money.”
    â€œMiss Genevieve told Cora that the minute she got out of jail she would help her to find a position,” said Oliver, who was now hacking Doreen’s carrots into uneven chunks. “And then Cora would be able to work and look after the bairn herself.”
    â€œDon’t forget, at that time, Miss Genevieve was young and had scarce notion of what life was like for those not of her station,” explained Doreen, anxious to defend her mistress for her ignorance. “Nor had she any ken of how much work a bairn could be. She probably thought it would just sleep all day while Cora did a few easy chores.”
    â€œBut when Miss Genevieve went next to visit her, she discovered that poor Cora had died in her cell while birthin’ the bairn.” Oliver paused in his chopping. “The warder told her the bastard was a sickly runt that would not last through the night, which would save them the trouble of sendin’ it to the orphanage, where it would just die anyway. Miss Genevieve demanded to see the bairn. When they brought him out, she took wee Jamie in her arms and said, ‘This is my brother and I’m takin’ him home,’ just like that.” Oliver’s wrinkled face beamed with pleasure, as if he could just imagine Genevieve doing such a thing.
    â€œWhat did her betrothed think of that?” wondered Haydon.
    â€œAt first he thought she must be suffering from some sort of woman’s ailment that had made her touched in the head,” scoffed Doreen. “Thought she was just grievin’ over her father’s death. Brought in a doctor all the way from Edinburgh to examine her and make her right again. After a week the doctor presented his lordship with a huge bill, and told him there was nothin’ wrong with his betrothed except, like most new mothers, she was very tired.”
    Eunice chuckled. “He even insisted the earl consider hiring someone straightaway to help her with the bairn, since she seemed to know nothing whatsoever about caring for bairns, other than what he had shown her.”
    Haydon found himself smiling. From the moment she had appeared in his cell like an outraged angel, he had known Genevieve was a woman of unusual strength and conviction. Even so, for a gently bred,