The stone mansion seemed to sit atop a pillow of mist with its wide front portico and pillars. A double stair projected onto a pristine lawn. Feeling nearly as disoriented as she’d been aboard ship, Juliet moved toward endless steps to a broad, ornate front door. A footman in plainclothes materialized, ushering them into the mansion’s entrance hall inlaid with marble. The walls and ceiling were ornamented with a masterpiece of plasterwork, endless oil paintings on paneled walls. Grand as it was, it had the look of the British Museum.
A stout, spectacled woman descended a double staircase that seemed twin to the one outside the entrance. She eyed the Virginians with none of the stoicism of the footman, a surprised light in her eyes.
Before Juliet could untie her tongue and make introductions, Leith appeared behind them, still looking a bit haggard, though he said with a robust courtesy, “Mrs. Baillie, this is my colonial bride, the new Mrs. Buchanan, and her sister, Miss Catesby, of Virginia.”
With a bob of her mobcap, the housekeeper snapped to. “Welcome to Glasgow, ladies.” Gesturing toward the staircase after directions from Leith, Mrs. Baillie ushered them to their second-floor rooms.
Hand on a balustrade shone to a high polish, Juliet looked back over her shoulder.
“I’m going out,” Leith told her from the middle of the echoing hall that held none of the homey warmth of Royal Vale. “Should you need anything, the servants will see to it.”
She gave him a nod, glad he wasn’t hovering yet at the same time wondering what would entice him out on a wintry night. A tiny tendril of suspicion took root, doubly shocking since she’d not considered it before. Had he ... another woman? A mistress? Her stomach flipped as he shut the door behind him with a forbidding finality.
“Sister ... oh my...” Loveday murmured as they went up the grand staircase. “Even the governor’s palace in Williamsburg pales!”
Their upstairs bedchambers proved a pleasant distraction, the elegant canopied beds and Chippendale furnishings and papered walls looking new. A dressing room joined the bedchambers and left Juliet wondering where Leith’s rooms were.
“Mr. Buchanan is on the west side of the house,” Mrs. Baillie said. “Ye both must be tired after so long a journey. If ye like I can have Ruby ready a bath.”
“Please,” Juliet told her. “And supper in our rooms tonight since Mr. Buchanan is away.”
With a deferential nod, the housekeeper disappeared, and Loveday gave a little twirl atop the thick floral carpet. “Have you ever? I feel caught up in a fairy tale!”
“One with a happy ending, I hope.”
“I suppose the true question is—which chamber do you prefer?” Pointing to the ceiling, Loveday admired intricate festoons of plasterwork flowers and medallions that gave the impression of a hanging garden, a crystal chandelier at the center. “Notice this room is decorated and upholstered in shades of lavender while the other is lovely shades of rose.”
“You choose,” Juliet said, still pondering Leith.
“You’re his Virginia bride, as he said,” Loveday reminded her, passing through the dressing room with its enormous gilded looking glass. “’Tis only right that the choice be yours.”
Juliet took a turn through both, then paused before a charming portrait between two windows of a lady at her writing desk. “The lavender, then.”
“It suits you.” Loveday seemed delighted. “’Twas Mama’s favorite color.”
Their luggage was brought, such as it was, and hot, scented baths were drawn in gleaming copper tubs. Situated side by side in their shared dressing room, they sank low into the fragrant water.
Loveday shut her eyes and breathed in the swirling steam. “Lavender with a hint of mint.”
“No brine about it,” Juliet said gratefully. “Even Parisian hair tonics and scented soaps.”
“So many I hardly know which to choose.” Loveday looked at the array of perfumed bottles and wash balls between them. The wrinkled sultanas they’d packed hung on hooks in shabby contrast to the sumptuous room.
Juliet made a mental list. “We must visit the milliner and mantua-maker as soon as possible.”
Already she was envisioning what a tobacco lord’s wife required. Leith had mentioned social occasions. Obligatory, perhaps. And nothing like Virginia’s hospitality.
Once bathed and dressed, Juliet and Loveday sat down to a surprisingly simple supper of haddock chowder, cheese, and bread, then retired early to unfamiliar beds, leaving the doors of the dressing room open. Used to little noise but owls hooting and the passage of some night animal at Royal Vale, Juliet lay awake long after Loveday fell asleep, listening to all the unfamiliar sounds of the city. Clatteringcarriage wheels atop cobblestones. An occasional jarring shout. Barking dogs. The cry of the night watch. At midnight a clock struck from the bowels of the mansion somewhat mournfully.
Leith had not yet come home.
37
Among the active manufacturers of Glasgow are to be found men of prodigious wealth, and at the same time highly elevated and enlightened minds, who form a sort of nobility.
Robert Chambers
The next morning, Leith rose long before the mail gun shook the city. Mrs. Baillie, still a bit ruffled he’d returned with not one but two lassies, had his garments cleaned and pressed, his small sword and gold-knobbed Malacca cane in his dressing room.
