Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,22
past her, and the sound of a blacksmith’s anvil filled the air. Coaxed from their houses by the warmer weather, Selkirk’s residents mingled round the well or the mercat cross, the council room or the tolbooth, with its impressive new steeple. Looking neither left nor right, Marjory remained close on the minister’s heels, lest someone step between them and begin chattering away, vexing the reverend further.
Draped in shapeless black clothing, with his shoulders hunched forward and his chin against his chest, David Brown resembled a bird of prey, dark plumed and sharp beaked, pecking his way up the steep wynd. He opened the door of the manse, across from the Mintos’ house, and bade Marjory inside.
The interior was less grim than she’d imagined. Beeswax candles were scattered round the parlor, and a heaping pile of coals glowed in the grate. His furnishings were old but well kept, his burgundy carpet thick. She saw no looking glass—too vain for the minister—but a handsome oil painting of the parish kirk hung over the mantelpiece.
Marjory took the offered seat, a straight-backed wooden chair with the thinnest of cushions, and waited for the minister to begin.
“I’ve no tea to offer you,” he said bluntly, sitting across from her. “On Friday last my manservant flitted to Jedburgh. He should have tarried ’til Whitsun Monday, when I might have easily hired another man. Instead, he took a wife.”
Thinking to sympathize with him, Marjory said, “I know how tiresome it can be to find a new servant.”
“Do you?” He regarded her at length. “I should think hiring servants is the least of your concerns now, Mrs. Kerr.”
If the reverend meant to shame her, he was too late for that.
A dog started barking outside the window, setting off several others, which quickly turned into an ugly, snarling row. Withindoors, the two could do nothing but wait until the noise abated. Marjory tried to appear calm, to seem unaffected, but all the while her heart was racing. When at last the dogs moved on, the silence in the room was palpable.
“So, Mrs. Kerr.” The minister’s countenance darkened. “What possessed you to support the Stuart claim to the throne? Did your Highland daughters-in-law bewitch you?”
“They did not,” Marjory hastened to say, protecting Elisabeth. “Nor did my daughters-in-law coerce their husbands. On the contrary, we begged Donald and Andrew not to enlist. Once they did, we were bound to stand behind them.”
He grunted in response. “You gave Prince Charlie money, I suppose.”
“I did.” Fifteen hundred pounds. Unless the reverend inquired further, she would keep the staggering figure to herself.
“The way of a fool is right in his own eyes,” he said, beginning to sound as he did in the pulpit. Louder, sterner. “You have lost everything, madam. Your money, your title, your home, even your family.” He banged his fist on the table beside him. “Everything!”
She cringed. “Reverend—”
“What am I to do with you, Mrs. Kerr? Banish you from my parish? Deliver you into the hands of the dragoons?”
Nae! Marjory looked down, overwhelmed. “I hoped … that is, I prayed you and the elders of the kirk might … forgive me.”
Her request hung in the air.
“Mercy, is it?” He did not shout this time.
“Aye, mercy.” She lifted her head, imploring him with her eyes. “I have nowhere else to go, Reverend Brown. Anne and Elisabeth are all that remain of my family now. Please … please do not ask me to leave Selkirk.”
The only sound in the room was the creaking of his chair.
Marjory breathed a prayer into the silence, with her eyes open and her heart open and her hands open in her lap like a child waiting for a gift. Look thou upon me, and be merciful unto me.
She saw something change in the reverend’s eyes. A prick of light.
“Please?” she asked again. Her pride was in tatters, but, thanks be to God, so was her shame.
The minister sat back in his chair, his large hands splayed across his knees. “Some might say you’ve already suffered the consequences of your folly. For that is what it was, Mrs. Kerr. Sheer foolishness. You broke no commandments—”
“But I did,” she protested softly. “Thou shalt have none other gods before me.”
He stared at her, aghast. “What god did you worship if not the Almighty?”
“I worshiped …” Marjory cast her gaze round the room, trying to find the words. “I worshiped my sons, my possessions, my place in society. All those things you said I lost. Don’t you see? The Lord took them