Mine Is the Night (32 page)

“ ’Tis even more wonderful facing this direction.” He inclined his head, leading them uphill and away from town. “Have you been to Lessudden?”

“The farthest east I’ve traveled is Bell Hill. And you?”

He smiled. “Canton, China.”

Had the admiral been her brother, she would have swatted him.

The farther they climbed, the more stunning the views. Elisabeth caught her breath, taking it all in, as they continued along a high ridge. The land rolled and dipped on either side of them, and the sky felt close enough to touch.

Lord Buchanan pointed ahead. “The Eildon Hills,” he said. “Unusual, aren’t they?”

Elisabeth gazed at the three distinct hills. Rather than gradual slopes folded into the landscape, the Eildons poked straight up out of the farmland with only bracken and heather to soften their stark, bald appearance. “More unsettling than beautiful,” she confessed.

Their route took them downhill once more, through wide open fields
and pastures. Sheep, newly shorn, wandered across the narrow track, bleating pitifully, as if in mourning for their wool.

“We’ve left Selkirkshire behind,” the admiral told her. “As promised, here is the village of Lessudden.”

She found the thatched cottages charming enough. “But none of them are ancient,” she chided him, “and I see no ruins.”

“Patience, Mrs. Kerr.”

At his leading they rode north of the village along a high, forested path. The sun was still shining low in the sky, but deeper within the woods, twilight had fallen. A thick carpet of dried leaves and pine needles softened the horses’ steps, until it seemed they were approaching on tiptoe.

A slight clearing in the woods revealed their destination: the lofty remains of an abbey. Silent, beautiful, mysterious.

“Tell me, Mrs. Kerr,” the admiral said in low voice. “Is the twelfth century ancient enough for you?” He quietly dismounted and tethered his horse, then helped her down as if she weighed nothing.

For a moment Elisabeth sensed he might take her hand, then felt foolish when he didn’t. She walked ahead of him, lest he spy her warm cheeks. “What do you know of this place?”

“King David the first founded Dryburgh Abbey,” the admiral told her, “but, beyond that, I cannot say. One of my gardeners recommended a visit here. Now I see why.”

“Aye,” she breathed. A wall here, a wall there, nothing like a whole building, yet sacred nevertheless. The arches of the transepts took on a rosy glow in the diminishing light, while the tall, narrow window openings were dark and blank. Gravestones were scattered about, some grand and ornate, others plain and low to the ground and covered with moss and lichen. She peeked through an immense, roundheaded door into an empty chamber with a stone seat stretching along each wall. “The monks met here,” she said, then jumped when her voice echoed through the vast interior.

Lord Buchanan continued exploring the pink sandstone ruins with Elisabeth
not far behind. “The Tweed,” he said, indicating the river encircling the abbey. “Our horses will be glad for some refreshment.”

While their mounts drank their fill, then nibbled at the grass round their feet, the admiral and Elisabeth settled on a low stone wall overlooking the placid waters.

“You said I’d return home having eaten my supper,” she reminded him.

“Right.” He was on his feet at once and unbuckled a leather bag attached to Janvier’s saddle. “I could manage only cheese, bread, a flask of cider, and ripe cherries from the orchard. A poor man’s meal, I’m afraid.”

“Then ’tis well suited for me.”

He resumed his seat beside her, his brow furrowed. “Mrs. Kerr, I did not mean to suggest—”

“Nor did you,” she assured him, taking the bread from his hands.

They ate little and spoke even less, tearing their bread into crumbs to feed the blackbirds hopping about. She sampled a few cherries, ate a bite of cheese, then took a long drink of cider from the flask before handing it to him. “The rest is yours.”

He downed it in a single gulp, then pressed the cork into place, looking at her rather intently. “I brought you here for a reason, Mrs. Kerr—”

“Please call me Bess,” she said, hoping they might dispense with such formalities.

The admiral slowly nodded. “I confess it suits you better.”

She’d not sat this near to him before. His forehead was lined, but faintly so, and his nose long and planed on the sides. His cheekbones were high and his mouth firm, almost sculpted. But it was his eyes she noticed most. A warm dark brown, like his hair, like his eyebrows, like the hint of a beard on his chin.

Elisabeth turned away, embarrassed to have studied him so closely. “You say you brought me here for a reason, milord.”

“Aye, Bess. I need to know where you stand with the Jacobites.”

She whirled round. “Whom have you been speaking with?”

“Reverend Brown.” He grimaced. “I was a fool not to have realized it
from the first. Perhaps I did not wish to know and so avoided the truth. I’m grateful I’m no longer in active service with the navy, or I should be duty bound to report your whereabouts to the king.”

Elisabeth stared at the ground, thankful she’d not had much to eat. “And you … feel no such duty … now?”

“None whatsoever. But I would know where your allegiance lies.”

She lifted her head, determined to speak honestly. “My Highland family always supported the Stuart claim to the throne. Because I loved them, I embraced Prince Charlie and his cause. But after losing my brother … and then my husband … the Jacobite cause is no longer my own.”

“So then, if King George should ask me where your loyalty rests?”

“Only with the Almighty,” she said plainly, “and with those who bow to him.”

He nodded slowly as if weighing her answer. “Aye, that should please him.”

Elisabeth almost laughed, so serious was his expression. “Are you planning on discussing me with His Majesty anytime soon?”

“Perhaps,” was all he said, then stood, gazing up at the darkening sky. “Come, Bess. I promised your mother-in-law I’d have you home before sunset. Can you ride with some speed?”

She rose, straightening her shoulders. “I can.”

Minutes later they were galloping westward, her mare already sensitive to her cues. Once the road straightened, they eased their pace. “Well done, Belda,” she crooned, easing back into the saddle.

“You’re a natural horsewoman,” the admiral commended her. “I insist you take Belda out regularly, for she needs the exercise.”

Elisabeth pretended to look shocked. “But, sir, I must sew.”

“Sew faster,” he charged her and took off again.

They were riding neck and neck, leaning forward in their saddles, eyes fixed on the lights of Bell Hill, when the admiral suddenly eased his pace and motioned for her to do the same. “Dragoons,” he muttered.

The two slowed to a stop, breathing hard, the admiral’s hand resting on her reins.

Her heart in her throat, Elisabeth peered ahead. Whatever were dragoons doing at Bell Hill? She counted eight men in uniform trotting away from the house.
Please, Lord. Let them not turn this way
. Along with the admiral, she waited and watched as the dragoons neared the road. When the men finally bore right and started downhill toward Selkirk, Elisabeth nearly collapsed onto Belda’s mane.
Thanks be to God
.

Jack was quiet for some time, his jaw working. “I don’t know what brought them to my door this night, but you can be sure I will find out. In the meantime, Bess, it might be wise if you remained withindoors.”

“If you think it best …”

“I do. If I am the one they seek, let them come find me. If it is you they are after, I’ll do as my mother once did when two English spies appeared at her door.” He leaned so close Elisabeth could smell the sweet cider on his breath. “I shall hide you on my roof and dispatch the king’s men to the hills.”

arjory paced in front of the hearth, the embers low, the supper dishes scrubbed. A single candle flickered on the sewing table. Night had fallen, and still there was no sign of Elisabeth.

Anne looked up from her book. “You’ve no need to fret, Cousin. She is safe with Lord Buchanan.”

“I know,” Marjory said absently, moving toward the open window. She leaned out, feeling the night wind against her face. The marketplace appeared deserted. Other than the usual sounds of barking dogs and lowing cattle, all was silent.

Or was it?

She closed her eyes, straining to hear. Aye, she was certain now: hoofbeats from the east. “They’ll be here shortly,” she said, then exhaled in relief. Wanting to look her best for Lord Buchanan, she smoothed her hair, brushed the lint from her gown, and washed her hands in lavender soap, a present from Anne.

Marjory had hoped her Tuesday birthday might slip by unnoticed, but Anne had insisted on a small gathering of friends. Elisabeth had stitched a new linen petticoat for her, Michael and Peter had found a tin ladle at market, and Gibson had carved a fine set of four wooden spoons. No one else in the neighborhood had been informed, at her request. Though Marjory was grateful for every one of her nine-and-forty years, she saw no need to proclaim her age from the mercat cross.

Hearing the noisy clatter of hoofs on the cobblestones, she hastened back to the window, expecting to find Lord Buchanan and Elisabeth approaching.
Instead, several horses were coming down Kirk Wynd. She squinted into the darkness. Only when the first rider came within a stone’s throw of their house could she see his red coat.

“Annie!” She yanked the casement window closed. “Dragoons!”

Her cousin blew out the candle, then leaped to her side. “In Selkirk? At this hour?” Anne pressed her forehead against the glass, counting under her breath. “Eight men, I’d say. They seem to be looking for something.”

Marjory could hardly breathe.
They’re looking for us. For Elisabeth, for me
. Had she not always feared a day of reckoning would come?

“Listen.” Anne eased open the window without making a sound, then clasped Marjory’s hand in silent support.

The men below were grumbling among themselves, loudly enough for the women to hear.

“I say we should’ve stayed. Waited ’til the admiral returned.”

“Who knows when that would have been?”

“His lordship’s housekeeper was little help.”

“Best find an inn, lads, and see if supper may be had.”

Her heart still beating wildly, Marjory watched the dragoons walk their horses along the row of buildings facing the marketplace. She could almost smell their sweat, their anger, their impatience. As they reached the Cross Well, she heard their muffled comments and guessed what they were saying. The Forest Inn stood downhill, beyond the West Port.

When the men disappeared round the corner, Marjory collapsed onto an upholstered chair. “Annie,” she moaned, “they will come for us in the morn.”

“But your names were not spoken,” her cousin protested gently. “More likely they had business with Lord Buchanan. You can be certain he will not point them in your direction.” She lit the candle at the hearth, casting shadows round the room.

Shivering, Marjory pulled Elisabeth’s plaid round her shoulders, fearing King George would not be satisfied until every Jacobite was dead. Minutes later, when she again heard horses in the street, Marjory did not move. “You look, Annie, for I haven’t the strength to stand.”

Her cousin glanced out the window, then touched her shoulder. “ ’Tis Bess and his lordship.”

Marjory sank back against the chair.
At last
.

The two were soon at the door. “Oh, Marjory!” Elisabeth hurried across the room, then knelt beside the chair, her hair reduced to a nest of wispy curls, her eyes filled with fear. “The dragoons—”

“I know,” Marjory interrupted. “We saw them in the marketplace. They paused long enough for us to overhear some of their conversation.”

Lord Buchanan moved into the room and bowed. “Did the men say why they’ve come to Selkirk?”

“Nae,” Anne replied, “but they did mention having stopped at Bell Hill. Apparently your housekeeper was not very hospitable toward them.”

“Mrs. Pringle is not one to be bullied,” he agreed. “Since the dragoons were not expected, she’d not have made them welcome. Had they been sailors, perhaps, but not soldiers. Still, they will no doubt pay me a second visit in the morn.” He glanced at Elisabeth. “All the more reason for you to remain at home.”

She nodded. “At least I have my sewing basket and can finish my gown.”

“I shall look forward to seeing you wear it,” he said. “Ladies, forgive me, but I’ve two horses that need their supper and a good grooming. I shall keep you abreast of any news.” He bowed and was gone, pulling the door shut behind him.

Marjory could not read her daughter-in-law’s expression as she watched the admiral take his leave. Was Elisabeth developing an attachment for the man? If so, ’twas far too soon. Donald would not have wished Elisabeth to mourn her whole life, but he deserved a twelvemonth.

My son loved you, Bess. And I know you loved him
.