Page 48 of The Indigo Heiress

47

A lofty cane, a sword with silver hilt, a ring, two watches, and a snuff-box gilt.

Holbeach

“We’ve a letter from Father!” Loveday burst into the yellow damask parlor, waving a sealed paper about.

A letter, at long last?

Juliet looked up from her embroidery as the children stopped playing with Hobbes and a tangle of yarn at her feet. Securing her needle in the tambour frame, she turned toward Loveday, who all but collapsed onto a sofa, already immersed in the post.

“Read it aloud, please,” Juliet said with a bite of aggravation brought on by a near sleepless night. Leith hadn’t come home, and she’d worn herself down worrying.

“Father is coming! In fact, he and Zipporah are already on their way as of this letter!”

Juliet sat back and took Bella onto her lap. “I wonder if they’ll weigh anchor here or elsewhere?”

“‘We should arrive in spring, a shorter sailing since we dock at Port Glasgow. Once we’ve visited with you, we will then go on to London as Zipporah is anxious to return home. After suffering a bout of ill health, I would like to continue on to Bath. The waters should do me good.’” Loveday put the letter down to produce a tiny pocket calendar. “A month? They should arrive any minute! Such glad news. And they’ll stay here with us before moving on to England.”

Bath. Juliet remembered Leith discussing some investment he had there. The Royal Crescent, he’d called it. “Perhaps you should make a Bath debut too, though Father’s health concerns me.” To say nothing of his pocketbook.

“Poor Father.” Loveday’s elation faded. “I do wonder if his gout has returned. Bath is said to be the best curative anywhere, and I’ve no remedy to help. Perhaps a visit to the Glasgow apothecary is in order. I confess to feeling at sixes and sevens without my stillroom.”

She picked up the letter and read more, though Father was notoriously short-winded by post. Their honeymoon, he penned, had been fine. They were increasingly concerned about the political situation and that radicals like Patrick Henry would plunge them into a world war. Both of them had decided Britain was their true home.

Loveday passed the letter to Juliet, but Bella grabbed it with one fat fist. They laughed as Cole came to investigate, never wanting to be deprived of anything his sister might have.

“’Tis a letter, not a toy or sweetmeat,” Juliet told them, taking the letter back and pocketing it. “Shall we have tea?”

Both children nodded, and soon the four of them were seated by the window, where sunlight streamed in like yellow ribbons. Ruby brought a miniature tea service, made to fit small hands, and Juliet presided.

“When you’re a little older you shall pour your own tea. For now, ’tis too hot,” she cautioned as Loveday passed sugar and milk. “Cook has fashioned some tiny biscuits for you with lemon cheese too. We must remember to thank her. But first, your bibs and a ‘please.’”

“Peas,” Bella said prettily while Cole just stared at the tray as if debating whether to grab it like Bella had the letter.

“Master Cole, can you say ‘please,’ please?” Loveday cajoled.

“Nae,” he replied as firmly as his father might have done.

“Let’s say grace and thank our heavenly Father.” Juliet folded her hands and bowed her head, touched as the twins did the same. Had someone taught them prior to this? “Lord, we give Thee endless thanks for all Thy bounty. Bless especially these little hands and hearts. Amen.”

Bibs aside, soon Bella had more lemon cheese on the tablecloth than in her mouth, and Cole seemed more interested in his shiny silver spoon than anything else. While Bella chewed her biscuit carefully with wee white teeth, Cole snuck more sugar from the sugar bowl, toppling the lid and sending it to the carpet, and Hobbes leapt to the sofa to avoid a collision. Both sisters worked hard to hide their amusement.

At a masculine voice outside, Loveday’s attention strayed to the window and the sunny street. “I’ve nearly forgotten ’tis time for callers.”

“And I’m to meet with the servants while the twins take a nap.” Juliet looked to the mantel clock as it chimed two o’clock, in time with the grander timepiece that resounded like cannon fire in the echoing entrance hall. “Then I may take a walk, as the weather is fair.”

“We shall both be busy, then.” Loveday put a hand to her hair. “I suppose I must change.”

“You look lovely—and your suitors will no doubt think the same.”

Flushing, she made a face. “I do confess I’m surprised at the number. Some come out of curiosity, I’m sure. I’m an American, after all. And then there’s Mr. Buchanan’s generous dowry, which is partly your doing, of course. And while I’m thankful, I do wonder if these gentlemen are seeing bank notes all the while as they converse with me.”

“Then marry a man who doesn’t need them,” Juliet said.

Loveday laughed. “That narrows the field considerably, Sister.”

“Once I thought debt a cruel gaoler, but now I’m beginning to see money might be the harsher taskmaster.”

“Peas,” Bella said, reaching for another biscuit while Cole swallowed a spoonful of sugar meant for his cup.

“Oh my, you are one for sweets,” Juliet said, pouring him more tea and pushing the sugar bowl toward Loveday. “Did you know your father is going to get you a pony?”

“Da?” Cole looked up at her with the same intent expression Leith wore. “Ride a pony?”

Juliet smiled and nodded. “A handsome Shetland pony from the islands. You’ll need to name him, and then he will come when you call to him.”

Bella stopped licking her fingers. “Pony for me too?”

“A pony for you both,” Juliet said. “You’re almost big enough to go riding, but we’ll have to return to Ardraigh Hall first for lessons.”

Yet Leith hadn’t made arrangements to return them to the country. She waited, though not impatiently, since to be beyond Virginia Street was to see him not at all, or so she feared. Then she remembered the Spierses’ ball invitation. And now Father was due any day...

The Spiers mansion seemed lit by a thousand candles. Nerves high, Juliet wished Minette hadn’t laced her so tightly. Or perhaps her breathlessness was simply the thought of facing so many Glaswegians for the first time, all who would undoubtedly be curious about Leith Buchanan’s American bride. Loveday, her constant support, remained at home with a miserable cold.

Footmen announced them at the front door and then again at the entrance to the drawing room. Being so new to marriage, Juliet always felt a little start at her new name. The man beside her was impeccably attired but markedly reserved as if he didn’t want to be here any more than she did. He’d said little in the coach when she’d craved a reassuring word, but she’d been equally tight-lipped, and now her faux smile seemed pinned in place.

Amid the dazzling candlelight, gowns and jewels were aglitter, a veritable rainbow of gemstones flashing about the huge, gilded room. Her pearls, always her preference, seemed out of place. She’d worn a blue gown to please Leith, but he seemed not to have noticed, hardly giving her a glance. Introductions began, but try as she might, she could not keep up with the flood of names and faces. Yet she did overhear a knot of older women pass by behind her who seemed distinct as a trumpet blast.

“She dresses regally despite being from a rebel backwater like Virginia.”

“I suppose she’ll soon be called the queen of Lanarkshire since he’s the king of it.”

“Given she prefers to associate with Glasgow’s poorest, even tolbooth prisoners, Mr. Buchanan must have forced her hand to appear here tonight.”

Stung, Juliet moved as far away from them as she could, though she sensed their eyes boring into her back. Leith had fallen into conversation with a group of men while Lyrica led her to the punch, her saffron silk skirts flowing about her as she walked gracefully.

The music and dancing moved from the opening minuet to country dances, and Juliet’s hopes of partnering with Leith were dashed. He’d not disregard protocol and dance with her here like he had at home, she guessed. Envy colored her dismay when a lovely young woman was the first he partnered with. Was Leith a faithful husband? She was certainly an insecure wife.

Before she could ponder the matter further, Euan intervened, bowing and proving himself as adept a dancer as Leith. But it was Leith she wanted, as this ball had a decidedly different feel from the warm, winsome one at the Virginia Street mansion, where the guests had been close relations and friends. Here they were simply business associates, as if the function was little more than another shrewd business transaction, lacking genuine feeling.

“So, what do you make of our society, Mrs. Buchanan?” Euan asked.

“I’m too bedazzled to form an opinion,” she replied from behind her fluttering fan.

“I hope your former indebtedness doesn’t keep you from appreciating our elevated entertainments. You wouldn’t want to jeopardize the Buchanan name or business interests by appearing less than grateful as an American.”

His harsh words were cloaked in a smooth tone. For a moment she lost her footing.

“I’ve never been accused of being ungrateful,” she said evenly.

“As a foreigner you must tread carefully. First impressions are everything.”

At which you are utterly failing. She bit her tongue lest she let that slip, relieved when the music waned. Her initial impression of the middle Buchanan, far from high, plummeted to her feet.

When Euan departed, Niall seemed to appear from nowhere, his obvious concern touching. Did he sense her disquiet?

“I hope you’re weathering this long evening well. Please don’t think me guilty of flattery when I say you Virginians could teach us Glaswegians a thing or two about dancing.”

She thanked him, assuaged by his gracious words. He had none of the stoniness of his older brothers. And truly, Virginians were some of the finest dancers on earth.

She gained a measure of confidence as she moved through the familiar steps across the polished wood with other partners. The Lady’s Magazine had kept her abreast of what was happening on the dance floor here.

Niall waited his turn. Being the topmost couple, they chose a longways dance she had stepped countless times in colonial ballrooms.

Afterward, slightly breathless, Niall led her to a corner, brought her punch, and wasted no time inquiring about Loveday. “How fares your dear sister?”

“She regrets her absence.”

“Not as much as I do.” He brought a handsomely tailored sleeve instead of a silken handkerchief to his damp upper lip.

Juliet felt a beat of amusement. These Buchanans, despite their lofty business standing, were callused, practical men who would never be guilty of taking snuff from a tortoiseshell box or sporting pink powdered hair like Parisians.

“Her sincere hope is that she soon mends and enjoys your company again,” she said, sensing his uncertainty.

“I suppose her illness gives her a blessed rest from her hurricane of suitors.”

She nearly laughed. “I don’t think she’d mind my telling you that there is only one gentleman she’s given a second thought to.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Hope ignited in his eyes. “Courting is riskier than the tobacco market. I’ll be glad to see it done.”

“I hope you shan’t wait much longer.”

“Are you playing matchmaker, Mrs. Buchanan?”

“More overly zealous sister, perhaps.”

“I suppose she had a crush of Virginia suitors.”

“Despite her lack of a fortune, yes. Her good name stood her in good stead.”

“‘A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.’” He frowned as if the Scripture came with a bitter memory.

“Spoken like a pulpit preacher,” she said.

“Our father didn’t practice what he preached but insisted we learn it just the same.” His gaze veered to Leith walking their way. “And your good name is why my brother chose you. Or mayhap coerced you.”

“Coerced?” She smiled, feeling suddenly lighthearted. “’Twas I who all but begged to be put aboard his departing ship.”

He grinned, his boyishness charming. “I can only hope my and your sister’s story ends half as well.”