Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,165
not afore,” she had told him. Rather firmly, for a maidservant.
Dickson came round the corner and immediately frowned. “Whatever have you done to your neckcloth, milord?”
“Nothing,” Jack insisted. At least not on purpose. He stood still while Dickson righted the thing but kept one eye on the broad, open stair where Elisabeth would descend.
“We’ve had no correspondence from Lord Mark in Edinburgh?” Jack inquired, expecting Dickson to shake his head, which he did. “And nothing from London?” Jack was not prone to worry, but until Elisabeth spoke her vows, His Majesty could still intervene. Should King George protest a marriage, any Church of Scotland minister, including Reverend Brown, would be required to honor his sovereign’s wishes, signed agreement or no.
Is there any impediment to this marriage? Jack could not wait to get past those dreaded words.
“Milord,” Dickson murmured, “ ’tis your lady.”
Jack looked up just as Elisabeth started down the stair. Even with her wide hoops and full skirts, she moved effortlessly from one step to the next. Her dark hair was a crown, piled high on top of her head and studded with pearls. But it was her smile that captured him, pinning him in place until she reached his side.
“Lord Buchanan,” she said with a tilt of her chin, “I wonder if you might escort me to the drawing room.”
He smiled down at her. “With pleasure.”
Jack immediately noticed the scent of lavender wafting from her gown and the quickness of her step. “Madam is in a hurry,” he murmured.
Blushing, she tugged him closer. “I’ll not deny it.”
“I shall be waiting for you,” he assured her when they reached the door. Then he slipped into the drawing room and took his place by Reverend Brown.
“Treat her well,” the minister said gruffly, “or you shall answer to me.”
“We are of the same mind,” Jack assured him, never taking his eyes off the massive wooden door, slightly ajar.
When the fiddler struck his first note, Elisabeth entered with a dramatic sweep of satin. Her smile grew with each step until at last she reached his side. My love, my Bess.
Reverend Brown offered a word of greeting and a few solemn thoughts on marriage. Jack had heard them yesterday at the Gibsons’ wedding yet listened intently.
Then the minister lifted his head and asked, “Is there any impediment to this marriage?”
“None,” Jack said firmly, producing the marriage agreement. “By order of His Majesty.”
Whispers swept through the room as Reverend Brown examined the paper. “Very well, then,” he said, putting it aside. “Do you, Lord Jacques Buchanan, take this woman, Elisabeth Ferguson Kerr, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Jack clasped her hands, never more certain of anything in his forty years. “Even so,” he said in a clear, strong voice, wishing his words might carry to all the corners of the globe he’d traveled. “I take her before God and in the presence of his people.”
He looked down at her, hoping his eyes said the rest. Oh, sweet Bess, with all my heart do I take you and gladly. You are the one I waited for. You are the one the Almighty chose for me. You are the one I love.
The minister continued, “And do you, Elisabeth Ferguson Kerr, take this man, Lord Jacques Buchanan, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” she said, gazing up at him. “Even so, I take him before God and in the presence of his people.” In her eyes he saw the rest. I trust you, Jack. And I love you completely.
Reverend Brown finished with conviction, “What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”
Jack’s throat tightened. Not even a king. Then he kissed her, sealing their vows, pledging his heart. No one but you, Bess. Now and always.
Voices circled round them as the wedding psalm began.
Thy wife shall be a fruitful vine
By thy house sides be found
Thy children like to olive plants
About thy table round.
Amid the joyous clamor, Elisabeth stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “I do hope I might give you a son, dear husband. Beginning this very night.”
Her breath warmed his skin; her words warmed everything else. “I will be delighted to do all that is necessary to ensure that happy outcome.” He winked at her, then offered his arm. “In the meantime, Lady Buchanan, shall we dance?”
Eighty-Two
What joy is welcomed like
a new-born child?
LADY CAROLINE NORTON
Bell Hill
Ten months later
lisabeth had never heard a sweeter sound.
Not a soft whimper, but a lusty, ear-piercing cry.
She fell back against her pillow, drenched in sweat from