Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [166]
Thinking to find some worthwhile diversion for her, Marjory eyed Elisabeth’s black gown, heaped on the chair. “You have an important matter to attend to as well, Bess. Since you’re no longer in mourning, your attire must reflect that. What say you to adding a bit of trim round the neckline? I know a fine lace maker in town.”
“An excellent plan,” Elisabeth agreed, “though I thought I was the dressmaker.”
“Not for long,” Marjory reminded her.
“True. Lord Buchanan informed me that my services are no longer needed at Bell Hill.”
“You see? You’ll be Lady Buchanan well before Hallowmas Eve.” Marjory shook out the black gown and laid it across the hurlie bed. “Did his lordship say whom he’ll be meeting with in Edinburgh?”
Their tea grown cold, Elisabeth began to clear the table. “He didn’t mention a name. Only that he was the king’s representative in the capital.”
“Nae!” Marjory dropped onto the hurlie bed, crushing Elisabeth’s mourning gown. “Bess, that can only be one person. ’Tis the Honorary Governor of Edinburgh Castle, General Lord Mark Kerr.”
Seventy-Three
The resolve to conquer is half the battle
in love as well as war.
GEORGE STILLMAN HILLARD
ith Dickson by his side, Jack trotted across the Ettrick bridge, fighting the urge to look back. However much he longed to bid Elisabeth farewell, he and Dickson could not tarry in Selkirk. Not if they were to arrive in the capital at noontide on Thursday, giving him sufficient time to shave, dress like an admiral, and sail into battle.
He’d sent a hired messenger ahead to make sure the governor was in residence yet with strict orders not to inform the man of their imminent arrival. Jack intended to use the element of surprise to his advantage. Having once offered a cool welcome to General Lord Mark Kerr at Bell Hill, Jack could only imagine the icy reception he would find at Edinburgh Castle if Lord Mark knew he was coming.
Still, for Elisabeth Kerr, he would do whatever was required.
He’d not told her Lord Mark would be the one acting on the king’s behalf, knowing it would only add to her fears. He could still hear the plaintive note in her voice, still see her downcast expression. Might the king withhold his mercy?
Not if God is with us, Bess.
Before leaving Bell Hill, Jack had taken Mrs. Pringle and Roberts into his confidence, explaining the reason for his journey north. “I care little whether or not Lord Mark finds her worthy, but I would know your thoughts,” he’d said. “Will you honor her as Lady Buchanan? Or will she remain a dressmaker in your eyes?”
Their response was swift and heartening. “Your lordship has chosen well,” Roberts said emphatically, while Mrs. Pringle beamed. “You already know of my regard for her, milord.” Jack was certain the rest of the household would follow their good example.
Only Lord Mark needed convincing.
“Mind your mount, sir,” Dickson called out when a large brown hare darted across Janvier’s path. “Mrs. Tudhope would happily throw that one in a pot.”
Jack calmed his horse with ease, grateful for any benign subject to occupy his thoughts. “I recall a decent plate of hare soup when we last supped at the Middleton Inn. We shall see what they have to offer us come Wednesday eve, aye?”
“Venison and pheasant,” Middleton’s cook said proudly, ladling a second helping of game soup onto Jack’s plate.
He could barely hear the woman above the din, or taste her soup with the pungent aroma of tallow candles filling his nostrils. One stage out from Edinburgh, the Middleton Inn welcomed travelers from all levels of society to sup and drink in the low-ceilinged room with its broad, soot-stained beams and sanded floor.
“I found your messenger,” Dickson announced, steering a gangly young man into the chair across from Jack. “Waiting for us, as requested, though he was hanging round that large bowl by the hearth. The one with the hot whisky punch.”
Jack frowned at the lad. “You’ll not be paid unless you’ve done your duty.”
“Oh, I have, milord.” His eyes were a bit glassy, but his words were sober enough. “Went to the castle