Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [90]
Sir John said in a low voice, “The tradition goes back two centuries. Selkirk sent eighty well-armed men to the battle of Flodden Field. A lone survivor returned, bearing a captured English banner. He was so overcome with grief he could only swing the flag round like a scythe.” Sir John nodded toward the platform as a weaver performed the same motion. “ ’Twas his way of showing the townsfolk that all their lads had been cut down.”
Sobered by the story, Jack listened as a song of remembrance rose from the crowd while tears were wiped away and heads were bowed. In that quiet moment he glanced toward Halliwell’s Close and saw Elisabeth standing beside her cousin and the red-headed tailor.
Jack waited until the last note rang out, then bade Sir John a hasty farewell. “My apologies to Lady Murray, but I must honor a previous engagement,” he said, certain he was committing some grave social faux pas.
The townsfolk parted at his approach, ending any pretense of a chance encounter. Elisabeth would see him coming from twenty ells away. By the time he reached her, a small clearing had encircled them. Their eyes met briefly before he bowed and Elisabeth curtsied, then he moved forward, nodding at the crowd, hoping they might go about their business and let him converse with her in private.
A foolish expectation. Every eye and every ear was fixed on the drama at hand.
The admiral from the sea. The dressmaker from the town.
Had someone sold tickets, he’d have made a handsome profit.
“Safe oot and safe in,” she offered him in greeting. “ ’Tis what the cottagers cried when they sent out the riders.”
Jack lifted his brows. “So that’s what they were saying.”
“Now the feasting begins,” her cousin told him. “Each guild has its own fete. The town council also serves food and drink for all, with music and dancing ’til the wee hours of the morn.” Her pale blue eyes looked up at him. “But you’ll be joining us for dinner, aye, milord?”
Thirty-Nine
Penniless amid great plenty.
HORACE
ye.” Jack smiled at Elisabeth, certain he’d made the right choice.
“A plate of food with the Kerrs would suit me very well.”
“Reverend Brown has agreed to join us,” Elisabeth said, “along with Mr. Dalgliesh and his son. You remember young Peter.”
Jack looked down at the lad, who did not hide behind his father, as most boys would, but stood proudly in front of him. Imagine having such a son! “The Almighty has been most kind to you, Mr. Dalgliesh.”
The tailor smiled broadly, planting his hand on Peter’s head. “Indeed he has, milord.”
“Come, sir!” Peter cried, tugging on Jack’s coat.
“Our house is modest, but our welcome is sure.” Elisabeth led him down the shadowy close with the others trailing behind, their lively voices echoing against the dank stone walls.
Jack took careful note of his surroundings, troubled by the thought of Elisabeth facing this grim view every day of her life. Only when they reached the door did he remember Janvier. “I’ve left my horse with one of the stable lads from Bell Hill. He’ll be wondering where I’ve gone.”
Mr. Dalgliesh chuckled. “Is he a Selkirk lad?” When Jack assured him that he was, the tailor said, “Then ye’ve nae need to worry, for he’ll be sitting with the ither lads in a shady spot, watching yer mount and drinking punch for hours. He kens ye’ll find him whan ye’re done.”
Elisabeth studied Jack more intently. “Would you prefer we sent someone to tell him of your whereabouts?”
“Nae,” Jack said, trusting the tailor’s assessment. “After our brief exchange in the marketplace, Mrs. Kerr, a hundred folk could tell him where I’ve gone.” He stood back. “Now, if someone might unlock the door.”
Soft laughter rippled through the group.
“ ’Tis an outside door and has no lock,” Elisabeth explained, pushing it open. A musty smell wafted out. “This isn’t London, milord. We’ve no need for lock and key here.”
A moment later he understood why. There was nothing to steal.
Jack had visited many