Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [180]
She was finishing the last bite of her breakfast when she heard a man’s footsteps in the hall, then a light tap at the door. “Mrs. Kerr?”
Elisabeth crossed the room, clasping shut her dressing gown. Speaking through the crack in the door, she told him softly, “I am not dressed, milord, and so cannot invite you within.”
“Oh. Might you be prepared to meet me in … say, an hour? In the garden?” Lowering his voice, he added, “I should very much like to see you, Bess.”
“And I, you.” Very much. “If you might ask Sally to attend me.”
Her new lady’s maid soon reappeared bearing hot water, clean linens, and a wide-eyed expression. “His lordship bade me come at once.”
Elisabeth smiled. “Then let’s not keep him waiting, shall we?”
For her first effort, Sally did exceptionally well with Elisabeth’s hair. “ ’Twill need to be done again for the wedding, o’ course. At four o’ the clock, aye?”
Elisabeth nodded, a sudden chill sweeping over her. Not from fear, certainly, or from nervousness. But from sheer delight.
Jack was standing in the garden when Elisabeth hurried through the drawing room doors into a bright October morning. The air was crisp and dry and the cloudless sky a brilliant blue.
“Dickson is dressing you rather smartly of late,” she told Jack, admiring the dark brown coat that perfectly matched his eyes.
He shrugged. “My valet insists I look the part of a wealthy gentleman.”
“I approve,” she told him, “though ’twill be some time before I can sew enough gowns to look the part of Lady Buchanan.”
“My dear, you are already a lady.” Jack took her hands, tugging her closer. “As to your wardrobe, I hope you’ll not be unhappy with me, but I employed two dressmakers in town to create a few simple gowns for you. Nothing like the quality of your own designs, of course. Feel free to pass them on to Mrs. Dalgliesh, if you like.”
Elisabeth laughed. “Jack, my cousin is a half foot shorter than I am and a good deal smaller. Any gown of mine would need to be remade completely for her.”
“Surely the dressmakers can manage that,” he teased her.
“I suppose,” she agreed. “When might those ‘few simple gowns’ of mine be ready?”
He smiled. “You’ll find six of them hanging in your new dressing room when you return.”
“Six?”
“The women had only a fortnight,” he apologized.
“Oh, I’m not disappointed,” she hastened to say. “I’m amazed. Having worn the same gown from September last ’til June, the thought of six new gowns at once is … well, ’tis remarkable.” Then she eyed him more closely. “However did they manage without taking my measurements?”
“I confess, I had an accomplice. Your mother-in-law employed your measuring tape one night while you were sleeping.”
Very canny of you, Marjory. Elisabeth would have to think of some way to repay the woman for being so secretive. Put salt in her sugar bowl, perhaps, or stitch her pockets shut. Or she could thank her profusely when next she saw her. Aye, that seemed best.
“Milord?” A footman came forward bearing a thick letter.
Jack accepted it, then broke the seal at once, though his expression showed some misgivings. “ ’Tis from Archie Gordon, the man I sent to Castleton.” When he unfolded the letter, another one fell into his hands. He palmed it for a moment, quickly reading through the first letter, then sighed. “This one is for you.” He held the second out to her. “From your mother.”
Seeing his face, Elisabeth unfolded the letter with misgivings of her own. Had something else happened to her mother, some further tragedy? Please let her be in good health, Lord. Then she read the few Gaelic lines and understood.
My beloved Bess,
I received a letter from Lord Buchanan and was pleased to learn of your wedding plans. He is a man of honor and will be a good husband to you.
Elisabeth nodded as if her mother were standing there in the garden. I believe he will be, Mother. Just as your first husband, my father, was to you.
Lord Buchanan offered to bring me to Selkirk so I might make my home with you. And a