Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [176]
“Should we be here, milord?”
“Jack,” he reminded her, “and, aye, we should. Lord Mark will not be arriving anytime soon, I assure you.” He carefully took the two documents out of his pocket and placed them in Elisabeth’s hands, showing her the marriage agreement first, with Lord Mark’s bold signature. “You need never fear the dragoons knocking on your door, my love.”
“Oh, Jack.” She kissed him again, then read every word aloud. “Pardoned,” she whispered, gripping the document. “Safe, forever.”
He gazed down at her. May it always be so, Lord. “You’ll be interested in the second document as well,” Jack promised, unfolding it.
Holding the lease close to her eyes in the twilight, she scanned the words. “Marjory is to live here? At Tweedsford?” She looked toward the grand house at the other end of the drive. “Jack, does she know this?”
“Indeed not, for I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.”
Elisabeth carefully folded the lease, still gazing at the property. “Marjory lost so much. Everything, really. Yet God has restored her heart, and you, dear Jack, have restored her home.”
He could think of no other way to broach the subject, and so admitted, “There are some things I cannot restore. Ben Cromar is dead.”
A host of emotions crossed her features. Shock, then dismay, and finally acceptance. “If my brother were alive,” Elisabeth confessed, “he’d not shed a tear for the man.”
Jack had heard some of the grisly story. “Will your mother mourn Ben?”
Elisabeth took her time answering. “ ’Tis hard to say. I’ve not seen my mother for many years …”
When her voice trailed off, Jack longed to share the contents of his letter to Fiona. But since he could not guess when and how the woman might respond, he held his tongue.
Elisabeth glanced at the property lease again as if she didn’t quite believe it. “Much has happened since you left for Edinburgh. Marjory and Gibson plan to marry on the nineteenth of October. Their banns will be read in the morn.”
Jack smiled. “Won’t the parishioners get an earful this Sunday?” Then he remembered the small gift in his pocket and quickly fished it out. “I’ve a present for you. Archie Gordon tells me women in Edinburgh expect such things from their betrothed.”
“Is it a Luckenbooth pin?” She fumbled with the lid in the growing darkness. “How wonderful!”
Jack watched her closely, fearing he’d erred in choosing something else. “ ’Tis not a silver pin,” he cautioned her, “but I do hope you’ll like it.”
“How could I not?” she said, her voice light. Then she opened the box.
Silence.
“Bess, what is it?”
She slowly lifted out the pin and held it to her breast. In a moment a tear slipped down her cheek, then another.
Jack wasn’t certain what to make of her response. Was she pleased? Overwhelmed? The brooch was expensive, aye, but still only a piece of jewelry. “I thought it a good likeness, but if you do not care for it, ’tis easily sold.”
“This cameo …” She tried to speak, her voice breaking. “You couldn’t know …”
“What is it, Bess?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to upset her further, smoothing his hand across her hair. “Can you not tell me?”
She nodded but did not meet his gaze. “You found this at Mr. Cowie’s.”
“I did.” A wave of uneasiness swept over him. How could she know that? Had she seen it there months ago?
Finally she told him. “Donald had this made for me in Paris. It arrived in the shop after he … after Falkirk.”
Then Jack remembered the merchant’s words. Carved in Paris for a leddy in toun. “You were the lady,” he breathed. “Cowie never mentioned your name.”
She opened her hand. “ ’Tis a beautiful pin.”
“Bess, if you’d rather not—”
“I rather would.” She slipped off her gloves, then with trembling fingers unbuttoned her cape and pinned the cameo to her gown. “Don’t you see? I was always meant to have this but could not afford it.” She brushed her lips against his. “My dear Jack, however can I thank you?”
“Marry me, Bess.” He kissed her, harder than he meant to.
She responded without hesitation, matching her passion