Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [130]
“Is … what?” he prompted her.
“More pleasing to the Almighty,” she finally said. A proper answer, and honest, but not perhaps the one Lord Jack was looking for.
Nonetheless, he nodded and rose, then took a step toward the door before pausing to say, “I am glad, Bess.”
She longed to ask him why, longed to know his true feelings. But in guarding her heart, she’d locked his closed as well. “I am glad too,” she said softly as he turned to go.
Elisabeth was laboring over the bodice of Kate’s gown when a second visitor appeared at her door. His knock was tentative, but his entrance was not.
“I dinna ken what to call ye,” Rob admitted, dropping into the chair beside her, “but ’twill not be Mrs. Kerr.”
She kept sewing, hiding her warm cheeks. Lord Jack had sat in the same chair not an hour earlier. Now here was Rob MacPherson, come to turn her life upside down. “All of Bell Hill addresses me as Mrs. Kerr,” she explained. “So do the townsfolk.”
He scoffed at that. “They’ve kenned ye but a few months. I’ve kenned ye a’ my life. Aye, and luved ye for most of it.”
Mortified, she hastily put down her needle. “Rob, you must not say such things.”
He leaned back in the chair, his thick arms folded across his chest. “Why, whan ’tis the truth?”
Elisabeth hesitated, but only for a moment. “I am very glad to see you alive, but you well know I do not return your affections.” She hated to speak so bluntly, but Rob MacPherson was not a man who dealt in subtleties. “Selkirk is a small town yet with a good number of gossips. As a widow in mourning, I cannot have my name linked with any man.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Not even his lordship?”
“Not even him.”
Rob sighed heavily. “I thocht to find a warmer walcome, Bess.”
The disappointment in his voice weighed on her heart. “Mr. MacPherson … Rob … you must understand. I’ve begun a new life.”
“Can I not do the same?” He kept his voice down, closely watching the open door. “I’ve laid low a’ these months, hiding from King Geordie’s men. Ye canna fathom what ’tis like noo in the Hielands.” He shook his head. “ ’Tis a terrible place. Full o’ death.”
She thought of her mother and confessed, “I am grieved to hear it.”
A moment passed before he said, “I was sorry whan ye didna come to my faither’s grave.”
Guilt washed over her. “Oh, Rob, I am the one who is sorry. Our landlord in Edinburgh neglected to deliver your letter for several days. I was heartsick when I learned I’d missed Angus’s funeral. And the chance to bid you farewell.”
“So that was the way of it.” He wagged his head, his voice rough with emotion. “I stood alone in Greyfriars Kirkyard and leuked for ye to come. But ye didna.”
“Forgive me.” She lightly touched his arm, the woven fabric rough beneath her fingertips. “I would have been there by your side,” she assured him, “if only I’d known.”
When she heard voices in the hall, Elisabeth quickly straightened and picked up her sewing. It would not do for Rob to be found alone with her. “You must go,” she whispered.
He stood with obvious reluctance. “I dinna expect ye’ve found monie Jacobites in Selkirk.”
“Not with dragoons patrolling the hills.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’ll mark you as a Highlander the moment you speak. You’ll not be safe here for long.”
“ ’Til Michaelmas is a’ I need. Once his lordship’s guineas are in my pocket, I’ve anither plan in mind.” Rob looked down, pinning her with his dark gaze. “And ye, Bess, are at the heart o’ that plan.”
Fifty-Six
A day of worry is more exhausting
than a day of work.
JOHN LUBBOCK, LORD AVEBURY
arjory woke with a dull ache beneath her brow, just as she had every morning that week. She trudged to the hearth, then prepared breakfast by rote, the clamor of another Friday market assailing her ears.
Anne was still asleep after another night of tossing and turning in her box bed. Too excited about her upcoming marriage, Marjory decided.