Mine Is the Night (43 page)

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.”

arjory woke with a dull ache beneath her brow, just as she had every morning that week. She trudged to the hearth, then prepared breakfast by rote, the clamor of another Friday market assailing her ears.

Anne was still asleep after another night of tossing and turning in her box bed. Too excited about her upcoming marriage, Marjory decided. Anne’s dark blue gown hung from her bed curtains, well away from the hearth. The gown was older but newly aired and pressed, and the delicate lace trim across the square neckline was the work of Anne’s own hands.

Michael’s needle had been busy as well. Last evening Anne had burst through the door, her expression jubilant. “Oh, Cousins! Wait until you see Michael’s handsome blue coat,” she’d crowed, practically skipping through the house. “And he’s sewn Peter a waistcoat to match.” Anne had dropped into a chair with a happy sigh. “Come the Sabbath, the two lads I love will welcome me into their home.”

And the one man I love will not
.

Marjory pushed away the selfish thought, reminding herself that Anne had waited a long time to marry. Could she not wait as well until God provided or Neil Gibson relented?

Better is a dinner of herbs where love is
.

Marjory held the proverb close to her heart, intending to share it with Neil when the time was right. They could wait, aye, but not forever.

She glanced toward the partition, hearing noises from the box bed. A moment later her cousin appeared, squinting round the room. “Where’s Bess?”

“She left before dawn.” Marjory told her. “Said she had a maid’s gown to finish in time for the admiral’s monthly supper on the morrow.”

“I suppose Lord Buchanan has already arranged for servants,” Anne said wistfully. “I don’t know when I’ve had a better time than his first supper in June.”

Marjory agreed. “A memorable occasion. Just like your wedding will be.”

Anne studied Marjory more closely. “Is that what’s been troubling you of late? My marriage to Michael?”

“Nae,” Marjory assured her, sidestepping any mention of Gibson. “ ’Tis Rob MacPherson,” she confessed. “He’s dangerous, that one.”

“Dangerous?” Anne’s snort was ladylike but still a snort. “Have you forgotten that Lord Buchanan is in residence? A gentleman who commanded hundreds of sailors can surely manage one Highlander.”

“Oh, Mr. MacPherson would never hurt Bess,” Marjory was quick to say. “Quite the contrary. He was besotted with her in Edinburgh.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “Is that why he came to Selkirk?”

“I fear so, though Bess has not said as much.” As Marjory ladled steaming porridge into their bowls, an idea sprang to mind. “Suppose we pay a visit to Bell Hill this forenoon and see what we can learn? If the walk does not ease my headache, ’twill at least ease my heart.”

A light breeze wafted over the Selkirk Hills as the two women headed east on foot, the late August sun warm on their shoulders. Though Marjory was breathless by the time they reached the summit of Bell Hill, the view was worth the effort. Even after several days without rain, the grass shone emerald green. Bright red berries covered the pair of rowan trees at the entrance gate, and blooming heather turned the distant hillsides a dusky purple.

Greeted at the door by a fair-haired young footman, Marjory and Anne were soon ushered into Elisabeth’s small workroom below stairs.

“Why, look who’s come to Bell Hill!” Elisabeth said, making them welcome. “Mr. MacPherson, you remember my mother-in-law.”

“Verra weel,” the tailor said with a low bow. “ ’Tis guid to see ye again, Mrs. Kerr.”

“And you.” Marjory reminded herself of the many kindnesses Rob MacPherson had done for their family in Edinburgh, even as she tried to forget his last visit to Milne Square, when he’d accused Donald of being unfaithful to Elisabeth.
Your son demeaned her well enough
. Even though his charge was true, Rob had no right to speak ill of her dead son.

Marjory gazed at her daughter-in-law, recalling how she’d shown Rob the door that evening in no uncertain terms.
Please, Bess. Do the same now. For all our sakes
.

“Mr. MacPherson has finished sewing his first livery,” Elisabeth was saying, “and brought Roberts along to show me his finished handiwork.”

The butler stood before the hearth, tall and proud in his well-fitted black coat and trousers, with a crisp white linen shirt and neckcloth.