Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [171]
“Dinner will keep,” Elisabeth assured her, opening the door, “but Gibson will not.”
“What willna I keep, lass?” Neil Gibson stood on the landing, wool bonnet in hand.
“Oh!” Elisabeth blushed to her roots. “Well … I believe Marjory has … good news that will not keep. We’ll be back shortly.” Both women quickly skirted round him, then hastened down the stair, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.
Marjory dried her hands on her apron. Give me the words, Lord. Give me the courage.
Neil entered the house, an expectant look on his face. “Will they not be staying for dinner, then?”
“ ’Tis just us,” Marjory said, stretching out her hands to welcome him.
Neil, it seemed, would not be satisfied with handholding.
He crossed the gap between them in three strides and took her in his arms. “Marjory, my luve.” His voice was rough, his kiss tender. “I canna wait ’til I have mair money. Say ye’ll marry me, lass. We’ll make a go of it somehow …”
“Oh, but, Neil, I …”
He kissed her again, then pressed his brow to hers. “I ken ye should be the one asking, Leddy Kerr, because o’ yer station. But I must do the asking, because I luved ye first.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” she managed to say round the lump in her throat. “I loved you before I could put words to it.” She stepped back so she might look into his eyes. “If you are the one asking, Neil Gibson, then I am the one answering. Aye, a thousand times, aye!”
Then she kissed him, giving him her whole heart, her whole self. He responded in kind, throwing prudence to the winds.
When at last she tucked her head beneath his chin, Marjory said with a smile, “Have I told you how much I love you, Neil Gibson?”
“Ye have. But I’ll not mind hearing it again.”
So she told him several times. And kissed him several times more. And then she remembered the news that would change everything and drew him to her table.
“I’ve nae appetite for dinner, Marjory, if that’s what ye’re thinking.”
She laughed. “I mean to serve you something other than mutton.”
After putting an empty wooden plate before him, she hurried to find the stocking in her trunk, then returned with a bank note in her hand and hope in her heart. “The Almighty has sent a generous gift our way.” She served up the note, worth far more than her meat dish, however well seasoned.
He stared at it, eyes and mouth agape. “Five hundred pounds? How did … Whaur did …”
Then she told him the truth. About her foolish gift to Prince Charlie, to a lost cause. And about Lord Buchanan’s generosity. “I believe with all my heart this is from the Lord’s hand.”
Neil shook his head in disbelief. “Ye say there are … mair?”
She brought out her stocking and poured the rest onto his plate, thinking if he saw it all, he would understand.
“ ’Tis a miracle,” he finally said. “And those only come from God.”
Marjory sighed. “What a wise man I am marrying.”
He curled his arm round her waist and pulled her onto his lap. “And I get a rich woman in the bargain.”
“Not rich, but we’ll not starve.” She looked about the house. “When Bess and Lord Buchanan marry, which surely they will, we can live here, if you like.”
“We can indeed, but I still must wark at something,” he cautioned her. “I canna be a kept man.” He kissed her, lightly this time. “The reverend will read oor banns on Sunday. And marry us three weeks hence, aye?”
Three weeks. She nodded, overwhelmed by the thought.
“On the Sabbath,” Neil said firmly, “in the manse. If the Almichty means for us to marry, then let us honor him from the start.”
“Aye,” she said without hesitation, then stood, remembering dinner. “Might I offer you meat before you return to your labors?”
“Ye may.” He let her go, though he did not take his eyes off her.
She felt him watching her closely as she went about her tasks. Slicing the juicy meat. Cutting open the hot potatoes. When a moment later she joined him at table with their plates in hand,