Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,121
her down the aisle was Peter Dalgliesh, smartly dressed for a wee lad and beaming at the crowd. “This is my new mither!” he announced proudly, delivering Anne to his father’s side. The groom looked surprisingly calm, Jack thought, and decidedly happy, standing before the congregation, his red hair bright against the dull gray walls of the kirk. The moment the fiddler ended his tune with a flourish, Reverend Brown stepped forward to do his part.
The minister’s expression was stern, his tone of voice more so. “We are gathered here to join Anne Kerr of Halliwell’s Close and Michael Dalgliesh of School Close in holy matrimony. Stand for a reading from the Book of Common Order.”
The congregation rose to hear the familiar words, followed by a lengthy prayer, and the necessary question. “Is there any impediment to this marriage?” Reverend Brown asked the crowd of witnesses. “Any reason why these two people should not be joined together as husband and wife?”
When no objection was offered, the minister proceeded with the vows.
But it was not the voice of Reverend Brown that Jack heard. Nae, it was King George shouting in his head. Admiral Buchanan, you cannot woo a traitor. For what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion hath light with darkness? Put her aside, Buchanan, and marry a woman loyal to her sovereign.
While the ceremony continued, Jack argued with the king in his head. Can you not see what a good woman Bess is, Your Majesty? Can you not look beyond her Highland past? ’Twould be no easy thing to tell King George one of his admirals intended to marry the widow of an attainted rebel. But tell him Jack would, when the time came. Not because the king required it, but because the king’s blessing would keep Elisabeth safe forever.
“Even so,” Anne was saying, her voice clear, “I take him before God and in the presence of his people.”
Looking down at Elisabeth, Jack imagined her saying those words. Imagined their hands joined together. Imagined a benediction being spoken over them. Imagined the kiss that would seal their vows. As if sensing his thoughts, she turned to meet his gaze and smiled. “Isn’t it a lovely wedding?” she whispered.
“Aye,” he whispered back. “Most assuredly.”
Fifty-Eight
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence.
THOMAS HOOD
lisabeth could not recall a lovelier first of September. The morning air was mild, the mist was lifting, and dew sparkled on every flower in Lord Jack’s garden. With a few minutes to spare before the start of her workday, she approached the sprawling shrub of roses blooming in colorful profusion, eager for a closer look.
“Autumn damask?” she asked the gardener’s assistant, who stepped back, bobbing his head. She leaned toward the pale pink blossoms and inhaled their sweet perfume. “Too delicate for my mother’s Highland garden, I’m afraid, but they manage very well here in the Borderland.”
“Aye, mem,” the young lad said, then offered her a pair of gardening shears. “His lordship willna mind if ye cut a few.”
“You are certain?” She eyed the shears.
Another hand reached round her and snatched them instead. “O’ course he doesna mind.” Rob MacPherson cut off a fresh bloom with a careless snip of the blades, leaving a stem too short for any vase.
When he handed her the flower, she buried her nose in its velvety petals, vowing to find a small cup that might support it rather than let the beautiful rose go to waste. “One bloom is all I need,” she assured the lad, plucking the shears from Rob’s grasp and returning them to their rightful owner. “Do thank Mr. Richardson for me,” she said as the boy hurried off to attend to his duties elsewhere.
“And wha might that be?” Rob grumbled. Once she told him Gil Richardson was the head gardener and well married, Rob’s frown eased.
Were you prepared to be jealous of him too? Elisabeth held her tongue, continuing her early morning stroll round the garden. She felt sorry for Rob, so slavish was his devotion—nae, his obsession. During his first week at Bell Hill, he’d found endless excuses to visit her workroom, glared at every man she spoke with, and reminded her how much he’d done for her, how much he cared for her, how much he needed her.
Even now, he was too close on her heels, throwing his broad shadow across her path as she paused to look up at Lord Jack’s study and see if she might catch a