Mine Is the Night A Novel

Fifty-Five

It is easy to say how we love new friends …

but words can never trace out all

the fibers that knit us to the old.

GEORGE ELIOT



lisabeth flew across the stable yard, her gaze fixed on the servants’ entrance. Had the clock in the drawing room already struck eight? She’d slept later than she’d intended, then spilled tea on her white linen chemise. After soaking the fabric in hot water, she’d scrubbed the stain with lemon and salt. “I’ll dry it in the sun for you,” Anne had promised, sending Elisabeth on her way. A poor use for an expensive lemon, but it could not be helped.

She slipped into her workroom at Bell Hill unnoticed, then paused by the window, letting her heart ease its pace. Kate was due for her fitting later that morning. But Elisabeth had yet to finish chalking the fabric, let alone cutting and pinning it. If she started at once, she might be ready for the lass by eleven o’ the clock, provided she had no interruptions.

“Mrs. Kerr?”

When she turned to find Mrs. Pringle walking through the door, pocket watch in hand, Elisabeth apologized at once. “Do forgive my late arrival.”

The housekeeper smiled. “I’ve come not to scold you but to summon you. His lordship has hired a tailor to sew for the menservants and thought you’d want to meet him.”

“But …” Elisabeth tried to fathom how Lord Jack had found a man so quickly. “His lordship made no mention of him at kirk yesterday morn.”

Mrs. Pringle stepped farther into the room, glancing over her shoulder. “According to Roberts, the tradesman arrived yesterday afternoon, drenched from head to toe, and was hired within the hour. Come, his lordship is waiting.”

She added in a low voice, “The man is a Highlander, as you’ll soon see.”

Elisabeth followed her down the servants’ hall, feeling rather dazed. A tailor from the Highlands when skilled tradesmen could be found in Selkirk? She hastened up the stair to Lord Jack’s study, then paused at the door, waiting for the footman to announce her.

Standing behind his desk, the admiral waved her into the room. “There you are, Mrs. Kerr. Do come in, for I’ve an introduction to make.”

She slowly entered, gazing not at her employer but at the man seated in a wooden chair with his back facing the door. Even from this view he looked familiar. His black hair was thick and springy like wool. His dark green coat was expertly tailored. His shoulders were broad, yet he sat at an awkward angle with his foot tucked to the side.

When he stood, her heart began to pound. It cannot be. Nae, it cannot.

He turned as Lord Jack announced, “Mrs. Kerr, I’d like you to meet—

“Rob MacPherson.” Elisabeth stared at the man she’d known since childhood. “I thought you …” I thought you were dead. Grasping for something, anything she might say, she blurted out, “However did you find your way to Bell Hill?”

His dark gaze met hers. “Yer mither sent me here. To leuk for wark.” Or to look for me?

She swallowed. “It is … good to see you again.”

“Ye’ve not changed at a’,” he told her, his voice lower than she’d remembered.

She turned toward the admiral, knowing he deserved an explanation. “Mr. MacPherson and I grew up together. His father was the tailor who employed me in Edinburgh.” She hesitated, wondering how much Rob had told him. “I’ve not seen Mr. MacPherson since before his father’s death. You can imagine how … surprised I am to see him again. Here, of all places.”

“Indeed,” Lord Jack said evenly, “of all places. I imagine you two will wish to renew your friendship in the weeks to come.”

“Aye.” Rob gave her a sidelong glance, his black eyes gleaming. “That we will.”

Nae, Rob. We will not.

The tension in the room was more than Elisabeth could bear.

“I must attend to my sewing,” she said, easing toward the open door. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” She curtsied, then fled for the stair, sorry to have left Lord Jack with a scowl on his face. By the time she reached her workroom, she was wound as tightly as thread round a spool. Why are you here, Rob? What is it you want from me?

Sally was waiting for her, eyes like saucers. “Did ye meet the new tailor?”

“As it happens, I know him.” Elisabeth briefly told her of their connection, imagining how often her words would be repeated once news of Mr. MacPherson’s arrival traveled through the house and then through the town.

Rob would seek her out before long. Until then, she would keep her mind on her work and remember her parting words to him in Edinburgh. I was never yours. I belong to God.


When a male visitor darkened her doorway that afternoon, he was not a tailor but an admiral. “Mrs. Kerr, if I might have a moment of your time.”

She heard the coolness in his tone, the formality of his address, and vowed to put him at ease. “Lord Jack,” she said warmly, laying Kate’s unfinished sleeve across her lap. “I’m glad you’ve come.” She nodded at the empty chair beside her, with its cushioned seat and broad arms. “These chairs are far more comfortable than their predecessors. A wonderful provision, milord.”

Though he merely inclined his head, she could see her words pleased him.

He sat next to her and said in an offhanded way, “Tell me about Mr. MacPherson.”

Elisabeth studied his calm expression, the subtle arch of his brows, the thin line of his mouth. However relaxed he might seem, she knew better. Like Charbon, who often appeared to be sleeping yet was fully alert, Lord Jack was watching her intently.

“He is an excellent tailor,” she began. “His father, God rest his soul, declared there was not a finer hand with a needle in Edinburgh.”

The admiral grimaced. “I’ve no quarrel with his talent. ’Tis his motive for coming to Bell Hill that concerns me.”

“Ah.” She trod with care, wanting to be fair to both men. “He certainly needs the position and will work diligently for your guineas. How long have you engaged him?”

“ ’Til Michaelmas.” He did not sound pleased at the prospect. “The man is a Jacobite, I presume?”

“He is,” Elisabeth said, “though I know you’ll not betray him to the king.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because, milord, you did not betray me.”

He lowered his gaze. “I would never betray you, Bess. But I would know the nature of your relationship with Mr. MacPherson.”

“We are friends. Nothing more.”

He looked up. “In the same way you and I are friends?”

“Nae, ’tis not the same,” she quickly said. “Though I have known Rob longer, I believe my friendship with you is …” Deeper? Nae, she was not ready to confess that, however true it might be.

“Is … what?” he prompted her.

“More pleasing to the Almighty,” she finally said. A proper answer, and honest, but not perhaps the one Lord Jack was looking for.

Nonetheless, he nodded and rose, then took a step toward the door before pausing to say, “I am glad, Bess.”

She longed to ask him why, longed to know his true feelings. But in guarding her heart, she’d locked his closed as well. “I am glad too,” she said softly as he turned to go.


Elisabeth was laboring over the bodice of Kate’s gown when a second visitor appeared at her door. His knock was tentative, but his entrance was not.

“I dinna ken what to call ye,” Rob admitted, dropping into the chair beside her, “but ’twill not be Mrs. Kerr.”

She kept sewing, hiding her warm cheeks. Lord Jack had sat in the same chair not an hour earlier. Now here was Rob MacPherson, come to turn her life upside down. “All of Bell Hill addresses me as Mrs. Kerr,” she explained. “So do the townsfolk.”

He scoffed at that. “They’ve kenned ye but a few months. I’ve kenned ye a’ my life. Aye, and luved ye for most of it.”

Mortified, she hastily put down her needle. “Rob, you must not say such things.”

He leaned back in the chair, his thick arms folded across his chest. “Why, whan ’tis the truth?”

Elisabeth hesitated, but only for a moment. “I am very glad to see you alive, but you well know I do not return your affections.” She hated to speak so bluntly, but Rob MacPherson was not a man who dealt in subtleties. “Selkirk is a small town yet with a good number of gossips. As a widow in mourning, I cannot have my name linked with any man.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Not even his lordship?”

“Not even him.”

Rob sighed heavily. “I thocht to find a warmer walcome, Bess.”

The disappointment in his voice weighed on her heart. “Mr. MacPherson … Rob … you must understand. I’ve begun a new life.”

“Can I not do the same?” He kept his voice down, closely watching the open door. “I’ve laid low a’ these months, hiding from King Geordie’s men. Ye canna fathom what ’tis like noo in the Hielands.” He shook his head. “ ’Tis a terrible place. Full o’ death.”

She thought of her mother and confessed, “I am grieved to hear it.”

A moment passed before he said, “I was sorry whan ye didna come to my faither’s grave.”

Guilt washed over her. “Oh, Rob, I am the one who is sorry. Our landlord in Edinburgh neglected to deliver your letter for several days. I was heartsick when I learned I’d missed Angus’s funeral. And the chance to bid you farewell.”

“So that was the way of it.” He wagged his head, his voice rough with emotion. “I stood alone in Greyfriars Kirkyard and leuked for ye to come. But ye didna.”

“Forgive me.” She lightly touched his arm, the woven fabric rough beneath her fingertips. “I would have been there by your side,” she assured him, “if only I’d known.”

When she heard voices in the hall, Elisabeth quickly straightened and picked up her sewing. It would not do for Rob to be found alone with her. “You must go,” she whispered.

He stood with obvious reluctance. “I dinna expect ye’ve found monie Jacobites in Selkirk.”

“Not with dragoons patrolling the hills.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’ll mark you as a Highlander the moment you speak. You’ll not be safe here for long.”

“ ’Til Michaelmas is a’ I need. Once his lordship’s guineas are in my pocket, I’ve anither plan in mind.” Rob looked down, pinning her with his dark gaze. “And ye, Bess, are at the heart o’ that plan.”