Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [125]
“I’ve niver had a new gown,” Kate confided, keeping her posture straight even as her gaze lighted on the sleeping cat, the wool rug, the new chairs. “Clever bit o’ business, that,” she said, nodding at the candle-stool. “Ye’ve a richt cozy place, Mrs. Kerr. Leuks like his lordship has taken a fancy to ye.”
Elisabeth pretended not to hear her as she busily stretched the measuring tape from waist to hem, then recorded the figure with chalk and slate. When Kate moved on to another topic—all the lads she’d danced with at the Saint Lawrence Fair—Elisabeth finished her task without further questions. Had the whole household come to the same conclusion regarding Lord Buchanan?
When Sally appeared with her afternoon tea tray, her countenance beamed like the sun. “His lordship is hame!” She put down the tray with a noisy clatter, then took off with Kate close on her heels.
Elisabeth watched them go, uncertain of what was expected of her. Would the household line up at the door to formally greet him, as they had when he last returned from a journey? And if so, would she be expected to join them? “Better done than not,” she told Charbon, then quickly attended to face, hands, and hair before hurrying out the door and up the stair, the gray cat darting ahead.
Admit it, Bess. You cannot wait to see him.
The truth of it made her heart quicken and her steps along with it.
Bell Hill’s staff was indeed standing on either side of the front door, Dickson having ridden ahead to announce his lordship’s arrival. All were red cheeked and damp with sweat beneath the hot August sun as Lord Buchanan dismounted, then passed the reins to a stable lad.
“May the good Lord be with you,” he called out, as was his custom.
“And with you!” was his household’s enthusiastic reply.
Elisabeth watched him greet each one by name and receive a swift bow or curtsy in response. For a moment she thought he’d glanced her way, but perhaps she’d only wished it so. In due time he reached his front door, where she stood beside Mrs. Pringle.
“Your chamber is ready for you, milord, and your hot bath as well,” the older woman assured him, then dispatched the household to their duties.
“No man could hope for a better housekeeper. Or a finer dressmaker,” he added, nodding at the maidservants as they passed by. More than half of them wore Elisabeth’s creations now. “I see you’ve been busy while I was away, Mrs. Kerr.”
Elisabeth felt the warmth of his gaze. “Aye, milord.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Perhaps I should leave my country estate more often, as some landowners do. Spend six months in London. Take the grand tour.”
“Your lordship has already sailed the world,” Elisabeth reminded him. “And I do believe the grand tour is meant for … well …”
“Young gentlemen half my age,” the admiral finished for her. “I suppose you’re right. If you’ll kindly find my cane, I’ll hobble off to my study, where I may gum my supper in peace.”
Elisabeth smiled. “You’re speaking of a gentleman twice your age, milord. You are hardly old and infirm.”
“I’m glad you think so, madam.”
The two of them were left standing alone on the threshold. Only Charbon tarried behind, curling round their legs.
Lord Jack stepped closer, the earthy scent of horse and rider filling her nostrils. Any sense of levity vanished from his countenance. “I’ve a letter from your mother.” He produced it at once and pressed it into her hands. “Meet me at five o’ the clock in my study, and I shall tell you more of what I found at Castleton.”
Elisabeth had already broken the seal and unfolded the letter before she reached her workroom. She’d not had news from home since September last, delivered by her brother. My dear Simon.
Her throat tightened when she saw the familiar handwriting in Gaelic, the few words scrawled across the page as if written in haste.
Saturday, 16 August 1746
My beloved Bess,
You were right, and I was so very wrong. Please, please forgive me. Lord Buchanan will tell you what I cannot say here.