Page 40 of The Indigo Heiress

39

These Virginians are a very gentle, well-dressed people—and look, perhaps, more at a man’s outside than his inside. For these and other reasons, pray go very clean, neat, and handsomely dressed, to Virginia.

Peter Collinson, London merchant

Glasgow. What a wonder of a city! It rivaled London in Juliet’s memory, though she’d been but a schoolgirl then and now looked through a woman’s lens. Walking through the wynds and closes in her pattens, she was humbled and haunted by her old prejudices against Leith and his merchanting—and again felt at a disadvantage amid so many luxuries large and small.

Color and confusion abounded as street peddlers hawked their wares of fruit and fish and dairy along with printed sermons and political pamphlets. Colliers delivered coal from door to door, their ragged beasts of burdens tugging at Juliet’s heart as much as the soot-faced chimney sweeps. The city’s ragged edges were dark indeed.

She linked arms with Loveday, the loaned maid leading, and moved toward the more genteel Gibson’s Wynd near the city’s center, where the air seemed perfumed by fruit and flowers. As the Tron’s bells broke into song, they paused and looked up. At almost noon, the bells signified a break in the day when many Glaswegians sought the taverns.

“’Tis not Virginia, to be sure,” Loveday whispered as they entered a millinery with the sign of the scarlet garter above the door. “I’ve not even seen a millinery this size in Philadelphia.”

Minette, Lyrica Buchanan’s diminutive maid, clucked her tongue as the sisters admired a fur muff on display. “’Tis time for American madams and mademoiselles to lay aside their furs for feathers.”

“A French feather muff?” Juliet asked as a buxom woman appeared from behind a counter brimming with paste jewelry and rainbow-hued ribbons, gloves, and fichus.

Mrs. Betty Gibbons introduced herself as the millinery owner and wasted no time showing them about the well-stocked shop. “I have a number of goods suitable for the season, like this new Parisian ostrich feather muff lined with ermine, or perhaps a peacock feather muff lately arrived from London ... even a tippet with macaw and canary feathers.”

Silken stays and buckled shoes. Breast flowers worn on one’s bodice that seemed more real than faux. Genteel pocketbooks. Colorful Indian chintzes and silks. Dimity riding habits. Barcelona handkerchiefs. Lace sleeve ruffles and clocked stockings.

“I’ve not had your ladies’ custom before.” Mrs. Gibbons took a lorgnette from her pocket to better look at them. “Americans, from your speech. Virginians, perhaps, from the plantations?”

Juliet was seized with a sudden awkwardness. To say she was now a Buchanan seemed a bold boast. At her reluctance, Loveday took the lead. “I’m pleased to present the bride of Mr. Leith Buchanan of Virginia Street and Ardraigh Hall.”

Another pause, this time on the part of the milliner. “Ah, so very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Buchanan.” She gave a little curtsy then looked at Loveday. “And you are?”

“Simply her sister from Virginia, newly arrived in your fair city.”

Mrs. Gibbons smiled. “If you tell me what’s needed, I’ll be happy to send a parcel of goods to Virginia Street, where you can make your selections in private at your leisure.”

Accepting the courtesy, they moved on and by noon had acquired a Venetian writing desk from the warehouse Leith had named along with writing supplies to be delivered on the morrow. But it was the toy shop in Bell’s Wynd that entranced them and took most of their time. Juliet left after purchasing a hobby horse and dollhouse, even a miniature tea set.

“I know the children are small and I haven’t seen their nursery,” she told Loveday. “But I can’t arrive at Ardraigh Hall empty-handed.”

In high spirits and with full hearts, they returned to Virginia Street in time for the four hours, as Glaswegians called it.

“Our first Scottish tea.” Juliet looked with pleasure at the tea table situated by a parlor window overlooking the rear walled garden, a parterred space still asleep in winter.

A housemaid, Ruby, brought in a silver tray, her face rosy beneath a stark white cap. “Take a dish o’ tea, Mrs. Buchanan and Miss Catesby. ’Tis unco refreshing.” She set down her burden. “Scones, marmalade made with Seville oranges, and a wee bit of Scots whisky. If ye like, I can bring toast with Tay salmon and kippered herrings. Minette and I are having that in the kitchen before she returns to Paisley.”

A far cry from their James River fare. Juliet thanked her and asked for a small sample, delighting the maid, while Loveday admired the engraved silver teapot with its matching hot milk jug and sugar bowl and a tall hot water urn.

“I must confess I miss Virginia not at all.” Loveday smiled so widely her dimples all but disappeared. “Though I do wonder how Father and Zipporah are faring.”

“Ah yes, and dear Aunt Damarus.” Juliet could only imagine her aunt’s shock at receiving all the Catesbys’ news. “I shall write to her as soon as my writing desk is delivered. ’Twill be a verra lang letter, as the Scots say.”

Chuckling, Loveday watched as Juliet poured the fragrant tea. “I’d rather talk about one Scot in particular. How is he?”

“Busy ... preoccupied.” Juliet tried to banish the princely picture he’d made behind his desk. It tugged at her in ways she couldn’t fathom. “We’ll travel to Ardraigh Hall soon, he said.”

“Then I shan’t go with you.”

Juliet set the teapot down with a little thud. “Whyever not?”

“I’ll not have this be a marriage of three, which it has been ever since we set sail from Virginia. The two of you need to meet his children—a momentous occasion—alone.”

The prospect of a carriage ride from Glasgow to Ardraigh Hall—of unknown mileage, close marital proximity, and decidedly stilted conversation—filled Juliet with dread. “While I do see the wisdom in it, I always rely on you to ... lighten things.”

Loveday hadn’t a care. Sampling a still-warm scone slathered with marmalade, she rolled her eyes in a sort of culinary ecstasy. “As I said, I miss Virginia not at all.”

Juliet took in their surroundings, still awed. “’Tis like night and day, truly, as if we’ve stepped not only onto a different shore but a different world. I’m very thankful we’ve arrived safely but still feel more guest. I’m headed to a country house I’ve never seen to mother two children who don’t know me and may not care for me—”

“Posh! The twins will love you, as all children do.” Reaching down, Loveday stroked Hobbes, who wound round her skirts. “I’m more mindful of your being a wife. You need to proceed carefully with Mr. Buchanan. And wisely.”

“Well, I shan’t ever horsewhip him.”

“Ha! You make yourself sound a tawdry jade!” Loveday’s laugh resounded around the elegant room. “I simply mean you don’t want to set a pattern you can’t recover from.”

“Clearly you’ve given this much thought.”

“I want what’s best for you both.” Loveday added more milk to her tea. “I see a driven, grieving, brilliant man of business and a loving, astute woman who is capable of doing much good—or much harm, depending on how you approach these sensitive matters. You want to grow together, not apart.”

“I hardly know where to begin.”

“Remember what Mama used to quote? ‘Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.’”

“Proverbs 31, yes.” The comparison left Juliet feeling more overwhelmed. “Mama rarely put a foot wrong.”