Jennie About to Be by Elisabeth Ogilvie

altogether.”
    â€œBut they hate the English for it! You won’t be safe.”
    â€œNigel’s brother’s wife is English. So are her servants, and as far as I know, they’re bored, not afraid. Darling, I’m going to have a lovely house, with a drawing room and a garden, and I will have my own horse to ride. And I shall have you up for long visits and marry you to a handsome Highland gentleman.” She looked over at Charlotte, curled up in the opposite chair. “There’ll be one for you too, Lottie, love.”
    Charlotte sighed. “Whoever I get, I hope he has yellow hair like Nigel. And if he can’t be an officer in the Blues, I’d like him to be a naval officer.’
    â€œLike Bobby Shafto,” said Sophie, and they sang the song together, breaking up in cascades of laughter.
    Everything had to be packed early to go to Scotland with them; they would be leaving after the wedding breakfast for the long drive to the Tilbury docks, there to embark upon Minerva for the voyage to Banff. This was Uncle Higham’s gift; he was a partner in the new vessel, built to bring coal down from Scotland. On her maiden voyage the Nigel Gilchrists would be occupying one of the owners’ staterooms.
    The portrait would be sent later, when the artist thought it was dry enough to be crated and shipped to what he considered a soggy and freezing wasteland.
    There were two new trunks for Jennie’s possessions; she had never had so many clothes in her life. She herself packed the small old trunk that had come with her from Pippin Grange, starting out with her keepsake box, her books, the old robe and the slippers from Ebony, and, with less enthusiasm, her workbox. Her aunt then banished her, telling her to go back to writing thank-yous.
    â€œYou’ll never put things as they should be, distracted as you are,” she said, “and your warm things must be where you can find them quickly. It will be chilly on the water, and spring in the Highlands can’t be told from winter, I hear.”
    When she’d heard about Scotland, she had quickly ordered underwear of Spanish lamb’s wool, flannel petticoats, warm spencers, and cotton stockings. These were to go on top of everything else, as soon as the wedding gown was laid away.
    Sophie and Charlotte helped wrap and pack the smaller wedding gifts, constantly marveling aloud to each other. There were so many things, most of them from people Jennie didn’t know, that she was embarrassed. Aunt Higham took a tight-lipped satisfaction in the loot, but the girls gloated over the monogrammed silver tea and coffeepots, the silver sauceboats and candlesticks, the Spode china, the variety of tea sets; an ivory tea caddy inlaid with ebony; vases, Chinese figurines, paintings. The younger children were allowed to watch but not to touch, and Derwent was nearly overcome by the chessmen carved from Indian ivory, the horses’ heads were so perfect. His clenched fists trembled with desire, and Jennie saw, and told him to touch all he wanted to.
    Aunt Higham’s gifts were many and practical: linens, blankets, pillows, and two eiderdowns. Lady Geoffrey had described the factor’s dwelling as a grim, high, stone house, and she gave rich-colored hangings and cushions and a gold-garnished mirror with candle branches hung with crystal drops to brighten a dark corner. The house had the bare necessities of furniture but was soon to be ornamented with such frills as painted fire screens and lamps, a carved and gilded clock by Daniel Quare, a mahogany wine table fitted with its own crystal goblets, and tall japanned screens to keep off the drafts.
    The sudden acquisition of so many things was overwhelming to Jennie. So was the whole business of preparing for a wedding; Nigel was seen only in snatches that were more exasperating than joyous. The whole household spun in a cyclone of energy that made the younger children very naughty, and