Mine Is the Night A Novel

Fifty-Nine

Our patience will achieve

more than our force.

EDMUND BURKE



ack paused outside the open door to Rob MacPherson’s workroom, watching the man labor over a pair of trousers. His movements were swift and efficient, his expression intent, his finished work exemplary. Were it not for the Highlander’s preoccupation with Elisabeth, Rob would make a fine addition to Bell Hill’s staff.

Jack knocked just before he entered. “Good morn to you, Mr. MacPherson.”

The man turned toward the door, his features unchanging. “Milord.”

A shiver ran down Jack’s spine. Aye, the air was cool and the furnishings sterile, with none of the warmth and coziness of Elisabeth’s workroom. But it was more than that. Rob MacPherson was like a block of ice cut from a northern loch in the dead of winter. Cold, hard, impenetrable. Jack drew up a chair, determined to find a way in.

“Working on another livery, I see,” Jack began. “For one of the footmen?”

Rob nodded his dark, bushy head. “A tall lad by the name o’ Gregor.” He held up the trousers, the fabric draping onto the flagstones. “He’ll be newly dressed by Friday.”

“Very good.” Jack shifted in his seat, hearing a faint jingle from the extra guineas in his waistcoat pocket. He’d come prepared to dismiss Mr. MacPherson if it came to it. To pay him for work he’d not yet performed and send him whence he’d come. None could fault a master who rewarded a servant in full.

But the idea did not sit well with Jack. He would hear out Rob MacPherson before deciding the man’s future at Bell Hill.

“I was sorry not to see you in kirk on Sunday morn,” Jack said, keeping his tone light.

Rob shrugged. “I didna ken if I’d be walcome.”

“We’d be more than glad to have you.” Jack almost clapped him on the shoulder as a friendly gesture, then thought better of it. “I shall save a place for you in the Kerr aisle next Sabbath,” he promised, to which Rob offered no response. Was the man ungodly? A pagan? Jack knew almost nothing of Rob’s history. Only that he was born and raised in Braemar parish. Like Bess.

“Did you settle in Castleton after leaving Edinburgh?” Jack asked him. An innocent question, he thought.

Rob’s eyes narrowed. “Why d’ye care whaur I lived?”

“ ’Tis Mrs. Cromar I have in mind,” Jack explained. “If you spent the summer in Castleton, you must have seen her on several occasions. Mrs. Kerr is concerned about her mother’s welfare, as am I, having met her husband.”

Rob abruptly stood, casting aside cloth and needle. “Ye’ve no richt to speak ill o’ Ben Cromar.”

“He’s a friend of yours, then?” Jack rose and faced him directly, not in the least intimidated by the man, however fierce his countenance.

Rob finally admitted, “Cromar’s a freen, aye.”

“Would you say he’s a good husband?”

He frowned at that. “What d’ye mean by guid?”

“Does he protect her, provide for her, care for her?” Jack felt his voice rising and his temper with it. “Is Mrs. Cromar safe in his company?”

“O’ course she’s safe,” Rob said with an ugly sneer. “He’s her husband.”

Jack grit his teeth, his patience dwindling. “Let us be clear on this, Mr. MacPherson. You’ve never seen Cromar strike her?”

“Nae,” Rob said firmly.

“Never noticed any marks on her? Bruises, gashes?”

This response came more slowly. “She once told me she bruised easily.”

Before Rob averted his gaze, Jack saw the truth in his eyes.

He turned on his heels and began pacing the room, sorting out his options, which were few. Sir John Murray had already informed him that the Sheriff of Aberdeen would not likely get involved. “Not for a few bruises,” Sir John had said. Would no one come to this woman’s rescue until she was bloodied and beaten? Or would her death alone bring the law to her cottage door?

Rob spoke up. “If ye’re finished here, milord, I’ve wark to do.”

“Work, is it?” He jerked round and felt the coins in his pocket shift. “Was it work that brought you to Bell Hill? Or was it Elisabeth Kerr?”

When Rob did not respond quickly enough to suit him, Jack took a step closer. “As your employer, I’ve a right to know.” Well, he did, didn’t he?

“I told ye why I came.” Rob sat down and reached for the fabric with its many sharp pins. “Mrs. Cromar kenned ye needed a tailor and wanted a man she could trust round her daughter.”

Jack stared at him. But does her daughter trust you? Only Elisabeth could answer that question. “We’ll finish this discussion another time, Mr. MacPherson.”

Vexed, Jack headed for the workroom on the opposite side of the ground floor, hoping his ire might cool as he strode through the servants’ halls. He’d not spoken with Elisabeth on Monday and felt her absence keenly. Perhaps they might go riding together in the afternoon if the weather held.

Jack rounded the corner and found her busy with her chalk. “Mrs. Kerr.” He felt better at once, just seeing her. “Might I have a word?”

“Aye.” She was quieter than usual, though glad enough for his company, it seemed. “You’re here on a mission,” she said, perceptive as ever.

Only then did he notice the slates scattered round the room. “What’s this?”

“Measurements for the remaining gowns.”

So few. An ache spread across his chest. “Are you in a hurry to leave Bell Hill?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Not at all, milord. The lasses are eager for their gowns, so I spent most of yesterday measuring each one.”

Jack told her the truth to see where it might lead. “I hoped you were avoiding Rob MacPherson.”

“Aye, that too.” She pressed her lips together as if reluctant to say more on the subject.

He took a seat. “I spoke with Mr. MacPherson just now. We discussed your mother.”

Her hands stilled. “And?”

Jack related their conversation, withholding nothing, though it pained him to see Elisabeth’s skin grow pale and her eyes fill with sorrow. “This is not the end of it,” he promised her. “I cannot by law remove a woman from her husband’s home. But I can send a trustworthy man north to watch over her.”

“You would do that?”

He nodded, wishing he might clasp her hand or touch her cheek. Anything to comfort her. “What good is money if it cannot be spent on a worthy cause?”

“But you give so freely,” she said, shaking her head as if confused.

“I’ll not be thought of as generous, Bess.” He leaned forward, determined to make himself understood. “Just as I said on the day we met, anything you receive from me is God’s blessing, not mine.”

She wasn’t quite satisfied. “It still passes through your hands.”

“Then I have only to leave them open so the Almighty may do as he pleases.” Jack held out his hands, palms up, meaning only to illustrate his point.

But Elisabeth slowly placed her hands in his.

He dared not move or breathe or speak, lest he frighten her away.

When she bowed her head, he did the same, closing his eyes, reveling in her gentle touch.

“Almighty God,” she whispered, “protect and provide for those I love. Whatever is to come, Lord, I know ’twill come from you.”

Jack longed to draw her closer, to hold her in his embrace. Instead, he lifted his head and honored the One who’d brought her into his life. “Trust him, Bess.”

“Always,” she promised, her hands still resting in his.