Mine Is the Night (56 page)

Jack glanced at the others, gauging their response. As for Lord Mark, he appeared relieved, even interested.

To force his hand, Jack took a different tack. “Or I could inform the king of your dissatisfaction and offer His Majesty the income instead. You know as well as I do how eager King George is to fill his coffers.”

“Nae, nae,” Lord Mark swiftly protested. “I would be pleased to entertain your offer. What terms would you suggest for the lease of this property?”

“Forty years would suit.” Jack paused as the murmuring rose in volume. It was an extraordinary length of time, requiring a vast sum to match it. “General, I am prepared to pay the full amount in advance.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “In gold.”

The room nigh to exploded. Paper bank notes could not compare to the indisputable merit of guineas.

Jack nodded at Dickson, who began walking the length of the room, bearing a wooden box they’d claimed from the Royal Bank not an hour ago.

Lord Mark watched the gold moving toward him, his eyes glowing, his greed showing. “Perhaps I am acquainted with this widow. Surely she must be a woman of means.”

“You once knew her as Lady Kerr, a distant cousin of yours.” Jack paused, anticipating a response, but Lord Mark’s attention was riveted elsewhere, just as Jack had hoped it might be. He continued smoothly, “You and I are related as well, General. It seems a Kerr and a Buchanan were wed in the Borderland a century and a half ago.”

“Very fortuitous,” Lord Mark agreed as Dickson placed the box of coins before him. “Upon my word, Admiral, consider the bargain struck. I shall have a lease drawn up at once.”

“No need.” Jack started toward him, legal documents in hand. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing one for you so as not to delay the possession of your gold.”

“Very thoughtful,” the governor murmured, his guineas gleaming in the candlelight.

Jack chose the side of the table opposite Dickson, forcing Lord Mark to shift his gaze from one to the other. “If you might kindly review these papers and affix your signature, the gold will be yours, and Tweedsford will no longer remain your concern.”

Lord Mark called for more candles, as well as pen and ink. Two lieutenants scurried about, bringing all that he needed. Jack willed his hands not to shake as he laid two papers, one on top of the other, before the governor. The gold had done its work. Now humility must do its part.

Drawing a candle closer, Lord Mark looked over the lengthy document on top, reading bits aloud as he did, confirming the terms of their agreement.

“Everything in order?” Jack asked, holding out the quill pen and holding his breath as well.

Lord Mark caressed the gold with his gaze once more, then dutifully signed the lease. He could not put the pen down fast enough before he pulled the box closer. “Now then, Admiral Buchanan, have you other business of interest to the king? For you have my full attention, I assure you.”

“There
is
another matter.” Jack paused long enough to pray.
You know my heart, Lord. Yet, thy will be done
. “I am weary of the bachelor life and wish to marry.”

“Indeed.” Lord Mark smoothed his fingers across the coins, not bothering to look up. “And what good lady have you chosen for your bride?”

Jack lifted the first document to reveal a second one. A marriage agreement.

“She is a widow without issue from a Highland family with no title and little property.”

Lord Mark snorted. “Well, Admiral, the lady certainly hasn’t much to recommend her.” The others round the table seemed amused as well.

Jack smiled too, though his heart was pounding. “Nevertheless, we are well matched. The king can hardly object to a beautiful woman among the peers.”

“Hear, hear,” one of the officers said, banging the table. His compatriots soon joined in.

Jack steeled himself, knowing what must come next. “There
is
one impediment to our future happiness, which only the king can remove”

Lord Mark cocked his brow. “Oh?”

“If you might act on his behalf, General, I would be most grateful.” Jack flicked his gaze at the box of gold, a reminder of his generous provision.

The gesture did not go unnoticed. “How may I assist you, Admiral?”

“Last autumn His Majesty extended a general pardon to all who might renounce their support of the Jacobite cause.” Jack paused, wanting to be certain the general recalled the king’s offer of clemency.

The others ceased their murmuring. Lord Mark said evenly, “Go on.”

Jack could delay his bold confession no longer. “My betrothed, Elisabeth Kerr, and your new tenant, my future mother-in-law, are in need of His Majesty’s mercy.”

Lord Mark’s features drew into a fierce scowl. “You mean to say these women are Jacobites?”

“They are no longer so,” Jack quickly amended, “for I have seen for myself their complete devotion to the Crown. In my presence Elisabeth Kerr burned her Jacobite rosettes in demonstration of her fealty to the king.”

Lord Mark eyed his gold at length. “I remember Marjory Kerr now. Her sons foolishly threw away their inheritance to follow the Young Pretender.” His stern tone softened. “She wrote asking for my assistance.”

Jack knew but asked him nonetheless, “Did you help them, milord?”

“Nae, I did not.”

A beat of silence, then two.

Jack slowly knelt before the general, praying for a strength beyond his own. “Then I am asking for a royal pardon on behalf of Marjory and Elisabeth Kerr. Indeed, I am pleading for their very lives.”

Jack bowed his head.
Please, Lord
. There was nothing else to be said, nothing else to be done.

Finally an answer came. “Very well.”

Jack looked up to find the general dipping his quill in the ink. A miracle, and nothing short of it.
Thy mercy endureth for ever
. Jack stood, though it was all he could do not to leap to his feet and shout with joy.

Lord Mark signed his name with a flourish, then sanded the document with a careless flick of his wrist. “You’re as good as married, Admiral. Though I doubt you’ll thank me for it in a year.”

The ten men round the table chuckled in agreement.

Jack smiled but for a very different reason.
You are safe, Bess. And you are mine
.

With steady hands and a calm voice, he held up both documents and announced, “You are witnesses this day that I have leased the land that once belonged to the heirs of Lord John Kerr and his widow, Lady Marjory Kerr, who will reside at Tweedsford for the next forty years or until she stands at heaven’s gate.”

The officers nodded in approval.

“Moreover, I have hereby obtained permission to marry Elisabeth Ferguson Kerr, widow of Lord Donald Kerr.”
My beloved Bess
. He swallowed, hard. “Upon our marriage Lady Buchanan will reside with me at Bell Hill in Selkirk, the parish of her late husband, without fear of the king’s reprisal for her former allegiance to the Jacobite cause.” Jack whisked the last traces of sand from the documents, then bowed. “So you have witnessed, and so it is done.”

Men on both sides of the table applauded, their duty dispatched, while General Lord Mark Kerr attended to his gold.

Jack took his leave and quickly, lest the general change his mind. Only when the two men reached the portcullis gate did Dickson slap him on the back. “Well done, milord.”

“Well …” Jack exhaled. “Done, at any rate.”

ousin, you
must
tell him.”

Marjory saw the determined spark in Anne’s eye and knew any argument would be offered in vain.

Even Elisabeth, whose every thought now centered on Lord Buchanan in Edinburgh, told her, “Gibson deserves to know, dearest.”

Marjory had little time left to make a decision. Neil was coming for dinner at one o’ the clock, with all three Kerr women waiting to greet him. Two of them were convinced he would accept Lord Buchanan’s provision as a gift from the Lord, allowing the couple to marry without delay. Marjory was less certain.

What if, presented with this clear opportunity, Neil suddenly balked? Some men, after all, were more in love with the idea of marriage than the fact of it.

Or what if, when she suggested they wed, her boldness offended him or wounded his manly pride? She couldn’t bear to think of hurting him.

Distraught, Marjory poked the mutton simmering over the hearth, then jabbed the potatoes baking in the grate, hoping if she turned her back toward her family, they might let the subject rest.

They did nothing of the sort.

Anne sidled up to her first, flashing the silver band round her ring finger. “You could have one of these,” she said smugly. “Once the reverend has read the banns three Sabbaths in a row, Gibson would be yours.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Marjory fretted. Which upset her even
more, because she
hated
fretting. Even the Buik said, “Fret not thyself.” Yet, here she was again, fretting.

Then Elisabeth appealed to her heart, which was patently unfair. “Gibson loves you, Marjory,” her daughter-in-law said, circling a hand round her elbow, tugging her away from the hearth. “Think how grieved he would be if he heard the news of this blessing from someone else.”

Marjory spun round. “Bess, you wouldn’t—”

“Never,” she assured her. “I only meant that Lord Buchanan might say something in passing, certain Gibson already knew. And what will happen when you start spending this money? Gibson is a canny man, Marjory. He will guess its source and be heartbroken you didn’t tell him.”

Marjory sighed. “But it amounts to a proposal of marriage.”

“Precisely!” Anne cried happily. “Elisabeth insisted I propose to Michael, and look how well
that
turned out.”

Elisabeth squeezed Marjory’s arm. “And weren’t you the one who suggested I present myself to Lord Buchanan? Although we cannot be sure of the outcome, I’m most hopeful.”

Marjory could not dispute their claims. Perhaps it
was
her turn.

“All right,” she said with a groan. “But I cannot do this with an audience—”

“Certainly not.” Anne took Elisabeth by the sleeve, pulling her toward the stair. “We’ll take Peter for a nice, long walk. ’Tis a dry day, and his father will be glad for an hour’s peace.”

“Dinner will keep,” Elisabeth assured her, opening the door, “but Gibson will not.”

“What willna I keep, lass?” Neil Gibson stood on the landing, wool bonnet in hand.

“Oh!” Elisabeth blushed to her roots. “Well … I believe Marjory has … good news that will not keep. We’ll be back shortly.” Both women quickly skirted round him, then hastened down the stair, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.

Marjory dried her hands on her apron.
Give me the words, Lord. Give me the courage
.

Neil entered the house, an expectant look on his face. “Will they not be staying for dinner, then?”

“ ’Tis just us,” Marjory said, stretching out her hands to welcome him.

Neil, it seemed, would not be satisfied with handholding.

He crossed the gap between them in three strides and took her in his arms. “Marjory, my luve.” His voice was rough, his kiss tender. “I canna wait ’til I have mair money. Say ye’ll marry me, lass. We’ll make a go of it somehow …”

“Oh, but, Neil, I …”

He kissed her again, then pressed his brow to hers. “I ken ye should be the one asking, Leddy Kerr, because o’ yer station. But I must do the asking, because I luved ye first.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” she managed to say round the lump in her throat. “I loved you before I could put words to it.” She stepped back so she might look into his eyes. “If you are the one asking, Neil Gibson, then I am the one answering. Aye, a thousand times, aye!”

Then she kissed him, giving him her whole heart, her whole self. He responded in kind, throwing prudence to the winds.

When at last she tucked her head beneath his chin, Marjory said with a smile, “Have I told you how much I love you, Neil Gibson?”

“Ye have. But I’ll not mind hearing it again.”

So she told him several times. And kissed him several times more. And then she remembered the news that would change everything and drew him to her table.

“I’ve nae appetite for dinner, Marjory, if that’s what ye’re thinking.”

She laughed. “I mean to serve you something other than mutton.”

After putting an empty wooden plate before him, she hurried to find the stocking in her trunk, then returned with a bank note in her hand and hope in her heart. “The Almighty has sent a generous gift our way.” She served up the note, worth far more than her meat dish, however well seasoned.

He stared at it, eyes and mouth agape. “Five hundred pounds? How did … Whaur did …”

Then she told him the truth. About her foolish gift to Prince Charlie, to a lost cause. And about Lord Buchanan’s generosity. “I believe with all my heart this is from the Lord’s hand.”

Neil shook his head in disbelief. “Ye say there are … mair?”