Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [151]
“They mean to bless you,” Mrs. Pringle explained, a look of satisfaction on her face. Then she nodded toward his desk. “Two letters arrived in your absence, milord.”
He had only to look at the handwriting to know the correspondents. “Have Mrs. Kerr come to my study in a quarter hour.”
“Very good, sir.” His housekeeper almost smiled. “Aren’t you pleased I brought her to your study last May?”
“Aye, Mrs. Pringle.” Very pleased.
He was downing a cup of tea when Elisabeth appeared. She glanced over her shoulder, perhaps to make certain the door was ajar, then sat in front of his desk and folded her hands in her lap. “What is it, Lord Jack? You’ve a rather serious look on your face.”
“I’ve news you’ll want to hear,” he confessed, reaching for the two letters sent by men well paid to do his bidding. “You ordered Mr. MacPherson to leave Scotland, aye? You’ll be glad to know he did precisely that. On Monday last he boarded a ship in Liverpool bound for the Americas.”
When a flicker of surprise did not cross her features, Jack wondered if Elisabeth already knew of Rob’s destination. “He told you his plans?”
“He did,” she confessed.
“And he expected you to join him?”
She lowered her gaze. “Aye.”
Jack longed to reach across his desk and touch her cheek, now fully healed. “I thank God you refused him, Bess.” For your sake. And for mine.
“I could never have done otherwise,” she said softly, then lifted her head. “Does the second letter concern me as well?”
“It does.” He glanced at the correspondence in his hands. “According to Archie Gordon, the fellow I dispatched to the Highlands, Ben Cromar has not harmed your mother in any visible way since I last saw her. Furthermore, the Sheriff of Aberdeen has been alerted, and a few of your old neighbors, Mrs. MacKindlay, the midwife, among them, have been discreetly charged to watch over her and guard her safety.”
“For which, no doubt, they’ve been generously compensated.”
“Indeed, they have.” Jack studied her for a moment, uncertain of her meaning. “Does my wealth offend you, Bess?”
“Nae, it astounds me.” Her expression was sincere, her words more so. “You are more generous than any gentleman I have ever known.”
Then marry me, Bess. The words were on the tip of his tongue. Say it, Jack. Go on.
Youth and beauty were easily found among the gentlewomen of the land but to also find godliness and charity? Wisdom and purity? Strength and humility? He would gladly wait for such a woman. Though the new year did seem a very long way off.
Jack walked round his desk, eying her mourning gown, thinking to test the waters. “When the seventeenth of January comes and you are free to wear any color you like, I am curious what you’ll choose.”
She rose, the soft contours of her face glowing in the afternoon light. “I’m rather partial to lavender.”
He stood as close as he dared. “Both the scent and the shade?” When she nodded, he tucked away the information for future reference. “A feminine color, signifying devotion. I shall look forward to seeing you wear it.”
A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Shall you indeed, milord?” At the sound of footsteps in the hall, she stepped back. “Then I hope you are a patient man.”
“Oh, very patient,” he assured her, mentally counting the time that remained.
Three months and twenty-four days, Bess. And then, if you’ll have me, if God wills it, you’ll be mine.
Sixty-Six
Sowe Carrets in your Gardens,
and humbly praise God for them,
as for a singular and great blessing.
RICHARD GARDINER
arjory blinked at Elisabeth. “We’re to pick carrots? On the Sabbath?”
Her daughter-in-law laughed, slipping on a pair of tattered gloves suitable only for gardening. “If Mrs. Thorburn will not mind.”
“And if Reverend Brown will not notice,” Marjory added rather sternly.
Once Elisabeth convinced her the Michaelmas Eve tradition was embraced by Highland ministers of old and would in no way dishonor the Lord, Marjory gave in. “But have not all