Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,77

“But ‘Jack’ seemed better suited to a British naval officer.” He leaned against his chair and found the straight wooden back even more ill fitting than the seat. If they were going to meet with any regularity, something would need to be done about the chairs.

“Mrs. Kerr, ’tis only fair you know a bit of my history.” Jack pressed his hands on his knees, gathering his thoughts, preparing to show her a canvas of his life. Certain details would be omitted, but there would be enough for a sketch, if not an oil painting. “I was born in Le Havre. My French mother raised me, while my Scottish father sailed the seas with the Royal Navy. I soon followed in his footsteps.”

“Were his boots the size of yours?” she asked, glancing down at them.

“Bigger,” he confessed, “for I am quite certain I never filled them. I began my life at sea when I was four-and-ten, as a midshipman.”

Elisabeth gasped, as he knew she would.

“Some lads were even younger,” he admitted. “The army requires its budding officers to purchase a commission. But in the navy, a first post usually comes about because of family connections.”

She tipped her head. “Then you’ve been at sea for …”

“Six-and-twenty years.” He seldom said the number aloud, finding it rather disheartening, as if he’d wasted the better part of his life. But he’d had no choice. Once his mother succumbed to fever, he had to sail. “I was five-and-thirty,” he continued, “when I joined Admiral Anson aboard the Centurion, the flagship among six fighting ships. Some four years later we returned to London, bringing home as our prize a Spanish treasure worth eight hundred thousand British pounds.”

He let the number sink in—not to impress her, but simply to help her understand his situation. “The officers shared the bulk of the prize, and several were promoted to the admiralty. But we lost more than half the men who sailed with us and all the vessels but one. Not a good bargain, I’d say.”

“Nae,” she agreed. After a quiet moment she posed the question he’d been asking himself for two years. “What are your plans now?”

Jack exhaled. “I’ve had enough of life at sea.” He did not confess the rest. That he was tired of being alone, of having no family, no wife, no children. “Within a fortnight I shall officially retire from the navy—”

“Retire?” She looked at him aghast. “And lose your pension?”

He shrugged, almost ashamed. “I’ve no need of it, Mrs. Kerr.”

“Oh. I see.”

When Charbon jumped down, Elisabeth stood. Weary of their conversation, no doubt, or appalled at the thought of someone throwing away a perfectly good pension when she had so little money of her own.

“Forgive me, but I must attend to my work,” Elisabeth told him.

He was on his feet at once, chastising himself for not rising the moment she did. Had his manners escaped him completely? “Mrs. Kerr, will you be attending the Common Riding on Friday?”

She nodded. “Apparently all of Selkirk turns out for it. And you?”

“As a landowner I’ll be inspecting the marches.” He tried to sound blasé, but, in truth, the prospect of riding over the hills astride Janvier appealed to him.

“Might you join us for dinner at noontide?” Elisabeth asked. “Our house is a stone’s throw from the mercat cross, where the festivities end.”

He knew where she lived. Not the sort of place a gentleman of rank was oft seen, but he cared little for social conventions. “I cannot be certain of my duties for the day,” he said cautiously, “but I will look for you on Friday. And join you for dinner if I can.”

Thirty-Seven

It’s no’ in steeds, it’s no’ in speeds,

It’s something in the heart abiding;

The kindly customs, words, and deeds,

It’s these that make the Common Riding.

ROBERT HUNTER

ave you ever seen such excitement?” Marjory felt like clapping her hands or spinning round where she stood or throwing her arms in the air. A mature woman did none of those things, of course. But she could feel such urges and no one be the wiser.

She had a right to be merry: Admiral Lord Jack Buchanan was dining at their house this day. She could hardly believe their good fortune. Though they’d spent time and coins they could not spare, their efforts would be rewarded by having the most influential man in Selkirk at their table. Elisabeth had insisted she merely wanted to express her gratitude to the admiral, but Marjory hoped to accomplish more than that. An entrée