Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,163
when the rain stopped and the sun shone and Neil Gibson swept her into his embrace.
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.