Mine Is the Night A Novel

Eighty

To marry a second time

represents the triumph

of hope over experience.

SAMUEL JOHNSON



uid morn!” Sally cried. “And a bonny wedding day to ye!”

Elisabeth turned as the maidservant entered her new dressing room at Bell Hill with a breakfast tray laden with freshly cooked eggs, a rasher of bacon, toasted bread, and raspberry jam.

“Compliments of Mrs. Tudhope,” Sally explained, placing the tray on a nearby table. She poured a steaming cup of tea, added just the right amount of sugar and milk, then offered a cheerful curtsy.

“Such service,” Elisabeth praised her, savoring her first, bracing sip. “You know, Sally, I’ll be needing a lady’s maid.”

Her eyes brightened. “Is that so?”

Elisabeth was not fooled. Sally Craig was a clever lass who never missed an opportunity to improve her situation. “Might you be interested?”

“Och!” She spun in a circle. “If ye’ll have me and Mrs. Pringle will allow it, I’m yers.”

“You must start at once,” Elisabeth cautioned her. “This very day.”

“Weel, mem, yer lavender gown is already aired and pressed. And ye’ll find yer dressing room weel stocked with lavender soap. Provided by his lordship,” she added, blushing prettily.

Elisabeth smiled. “I see I’ve chosen the right young woman.”

“Aye, mem,” Sally assured her, grinning back at her. “Noo, eat a’ yer food afore it gets cauld, and then we’ll see to yer toilette.” She took her leave, no doubt off to inform Mrs. Pringle of her new position.

Elisabeth obediently nibbled on a piece of toast and jam, thinking how strange it would be to have a maidservant waiting on her again. Bathing her, dressing her, styling her hair. She vowed to be a good mistress to Sally. Teaching her useful skills, encouraging her in matters of faith. She had further plans for the entire household if Jack would allow it. Reading and writing, to begin with. Needlework for the women. Carpentry for the men.

She’d once longed for Donald to lead the Kerr household in a time of family worship each evening after supper, a common practice in devout homes. Might Jack be willing? And include the servants as well?

So much to discuss! And a lifetime to do so, she reminded herself, overjoyed at the thought. Thirty, forty, even fifty more years if God was kind, which he surely was.

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 very fine home it is, I am sure.

Oh my dear Jack. Elisabeth gripped the letter, overcome by his kindness. Alas, she knew her mother well. Fiona would never leave the Highlands.

My place is here, Bess, among the friends and neighbors I have known all my life. You can be sure they will take care of me to the end of my days.

A great sadness welled up inside her. I wish I could see you, Mother. I wish I could tell you about the Almighty and all he has done for me. Would she never have the chance?

I shall look forward to your letters now that I am certain to receive them. I promise to write as oft as I can.

Elisabeth’s sorrow began to ease. She would write her mother every week. Nae, twice a week. All was not lost.

I will anticipate with great joy the news of your first child.



Your loving mother

My first child. Seeing it written in her mother’s familiar hand stirred hope anew in Elisabeth’s heart. Though she’d not borne a child for Donald, might the Lord still bless her womb? Please, Father. For Jack’s sake. Aye, and for her own. A braw wee lad. A bonny daughter.

Elisabeth slowly folded the letter, then looked up. “You are so generous, Jack. Offering my mother a place in your home.”

“Our home,” he reminded her.

“Just to be able to write her and know she is willing to write back.” She sighed, then drank in the fresh breeze, scented with dried leaves and ripe apples. “ ’Tis a beginning.”

“This day is all about beginnings.” He drew her to his side as they walked along the garden bed, Charbon leading the way, twitching his gray tail. “Our guests will not arrive until noontide,” Jack reminded her. “What say we enjoy this fine weather and discuss our plans for the future. Have you any improvements in mind for the household?”

Her smile returned. “I do.”