Here Burns My Candle Read Online Free PDF Page B

to address the Kerrs first. Ever the gentleman, Donald bowed and greeted the young woman, then seemed at a loss for what to say next. “So… Miss Hart,” he began after an awkward silence, “shall you embrace Prince Charlie when he arrives?”
    “Why, Lord Kerr,” the lass trilled, curtsying in such a way that her bosom was amply displayed. “I choose carefully whom I embrace and never tell a soul.”
    “Very wise of you,” Donald murmured. “Of course, you know my wife, Lady Kerr.”
    Anna Hart barely glanced at her. “Indeed.” A second curtsy, more perfunctory. “Yet I confess, Lord Kerr, I know you better.”
    Elisabeth stiffened. She’d grown accustomed to women of all ages flirting with her husband, but this was inexcusable.
    Donald dismissed the young woman’s brazen comment with a curt nod. “Come, Lady Kerr. The bell tolls for us all.”
    He abruptly veered away, taking Elisabeth with him, while the silk merchant’s daughter laughed behind a brightly painted fan.
    Elisabeth walked beside her husband in silence, nettled by the exchange. ’Twould seem Donald was well acquainted with Miss Hart. Had they been introduced at Maitland Hart’s shop? Danced together at a ball? Shared a game of whist? As they neared the High Street, Elisabeth could bear it no longer. “How is it you know Anna Hart?”
    Before Donald could answer, they were rudely pushed aside by two young caddies eager to reach the main thoroughfare. All of Edinburgh, it seemed, had quit their lodging places and were pouring into the busy High Street. Beggars to barbers to booksellers pressed against one another while gentlefolk, dressed in their Sabbath finery, struggled to make their way round sedan chairs and carriages.
    As they moved through the unruly crowd, Elisabeth tightened her grip on Donald’s arm. “The Highland army must be drawing closer.”
    “Aye,” he said grimly, “so ’twould seem.”
    An uneasy murmur filled the air like a piper’s drone as neighbors and strangers alike exchanged words that reeked of fear.
    “The city wa’ shan’t hold, I tell ye.”
    “’Tis no higher than a garden wall—”
    “And falling doon at that!”
    “Whaur stands the Edinburgh Regiment?”
    “Och! Nae mair than two hundred men.”
    Elisabeth lifted her voice above the din. “Is the city’s defense so poor as that?”
    “The government is ill-prepared,” her husband admitted. “Gibson remained at home to guard our effects, should the rebels breach the walls.” Donald surveyed the chaotic scene a moment longer, then tugged her forward. “Come, we’ll find no safer haven than the kirk.”
    Across the High Street rose the square tower of Christ’s Kirk at the Tron, its spire piercing the cloudless sky. Elisabeth held on tight as the Kerrs made for the wooden door. The paved street was more than seventy feet wide, as broad as any marketplace and twice as crowded. Crossing it proved hazardous as careless elbows and knees found their unintentional mark.
    Lady Marjory was shaking and teary-eyed by the time they reached the kirk door. “Mother?” Donald took hold of her shoulders, for she appeared ready to faint. “Shall I deliver you to Lady Glassie in Niddry’s Wynd? She lodges but a few steps hence.”
    “Certainly not.” Marjory stiffened noticeably, and her color returned at once. “Rebel army or no, we’re expected at service.”
    Elisabeth paused while the servants quickly brushed off hems and sleeves, then she followed the others withindoors, skirting long rows of seats until they found their own and settled in. When Donald produced a handkerchief, Elisabeth whispered her thanks, touching the white linen to her brow, then her cheek, then her throat, willing her heart to cease its frantic pace. She’d not forgotten the troubling encounter with Miss Hart. But this was not the time or place for such questions.
    Their gazes drifted upward as the enormous kirk bell rang once more, calling the parishioners to worship.