He loves you. He will listen to you. I know you can make him reconsider this . . . this unreasonable proposal.” The sisters were standing together in Elizabeth’s bedchamber, surrounded by a scattering of stockings, gowns, and slippers. It was late afternoon. The sunlight outside was just beginning to gray. Elizabeth pulled another gown from inside her wardrobe, giving it a quick glance before she tossed it with the others already heaped across the bed. She stood back for a moment and studied the burgeoning pile of lace and satin and silk. What exactly, she wondered, did one wear to stay at a farm on a remote Scottish island? She quickly cast aside the pastel yellow silk with the Belgian lace edging, then turned toward her fretting sister. “Bella, I have already told you I don’t wish Father to reconsider. Unreasonable proposal or no, I want to go to Skye. Can you not see? All I have to do is get through these next two months and then I will be free, free to do as I please, when I please.
