Love Then Begins (20 page)

“Yes, you.”

“Well, I’m sure Sir Breunor did not interrupt her and tease her and annoy her as much as you do me,” she sighed. “There is a lot to say for the dead days of chivalry, I think.”

He released her just enough to renew his hold on her waist and then lifted her up. “At your service then, my lady,” he said and carried her to the bed.

D
RINKING HER COFFEE THE NEXT
morning, Holly stood by the window overlooking the lawn in the breakfast room, watching the hustle and bustle that had begun early before first light and was already in full swing. Her husband had taken a quick breakfast in their room before hurrying out with boyish enthusiasm. “I’m going to supervise the bonfires!” he said and grinned. She laughed and told him she loved him and he had rushed back, already fully clothed, for a quick kiss from his wife, still buried in the bedclothes and groggy from sleep.

“Don’t stir up trouble again,” she mumbled between what turned out to be many quick kisses.

“Mm, very well. Although I don’t know why I shouldn’t. I like the stirring that comes from trouble. And I think you do too, love.”

“You are so bad,” she giggled. “And we were so silly last night.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Thank God.”

She giggled again and let him go. And now she was here, fully dressed, wondering if she might find something equally challenging as bonfire building to keep her occupied. Maybe Elizabeth needed help with something. But her cousin was nowhere to be seen.

After a third cup of coffee, the door finally opened and Elizabeth walked in.

“Oh!” Holly said, suddenly pleased to see her so late in the morning, thinking from her own experience it must be a good sign things were returning to normal. “I think there’s some food left!”

Elizabeth just gave her a look and calmly proceeded to pour herself a cup of coffee. “That won’t be necessary,” she said calmly. “I had breakfast two hours ago.”

“Two hours ago?”

“Yes. I have been up since six.”

“Six?”

Elizabeth gave her cousin a stern look. “Lots to do this morning, Holly. Busy day.”

“Yes, of course, but . . . I thought . . . Well, I didn’t realise . . . Where is Mr Darcy?”

Her cousin had not sat down and so she came to stand beside her at the window. She turned her eyes out onto the lawn with a sharp eye.

“He went to meet his sister.”

Holly impulsively put her hand on Elizabeth’s sleeve. “It will be a great day. A success.”

“Perhaps it will,” she answered evenly. “But before that can happen we have a lot to do.”

“I know Mr Darcy will think so too,” Holly added a little more quietly.

“We will see. But it is not time for that now, Holly. Later, not now.” She turned to put down her cup. “So,” she smiled, “when I said ‘we’ I did mean the two of us, you know!”

Holly mirrored her gesture and returned the smile, if a little hesitantly. “I am at your service, Mrs Darcy!” she said, and then could not help but blush profusely.

“Well,” her cousin said and just hastily wrinkled her brow at her before she went on, “here’s the first of our labours today, completed and achieved.”

She drew out a note from her pocket and waved it at Holly.

“At great expense of my dignity and pride, but hopefully in the long run serving to keep my standing in the community intact, I have sent a note to Mr Derek—quite a grovelling note, I might add—and this is the response.”

Holly took the note out of her hand. “A very fortuitous note,” Elizabeth added, “don’t you think?”

Holly nodded and looked over the short neat handwriting. “They’re changing the play?”

“Into a morality play.” Elizabeth could not hide her obvious relief. “Although for some reason it makes me feel even more foolish for receiving such mercy.”

Holly smiled. “Well, it will all work out then.” She glanced at the note again before she gave it back. “Biblical, no less!”

Elizabeth winked at her. “About Adam’s brother, the orchardman. I didn’t know Adam had a brother, did you?”

“I didn’t think Adam could have a brother, technically speaking but . . . “

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, well, ‘verily, verily, they do seek us, not because of the miracles, but because of the loaves’. Speaking of which, Holly, the roasted pig . . . ”

M
ISS
G
EORGIANA
D
ARCY TRIED VERY
hard, Holly thought, but she failed miserably. The fact that she had witnessed firsthand on so many occasions what a pretty, young woman’s ingenuity and determination could accomplish when plied with skill and single-mindedness, made her view Miss Darcy’s attempts with pity mingled with sympathy. She tried so hard. She directed all her comments to Lady Baugham in the most deferential and sweet manner. She took part in the conversation—not too much and not too little—although it was perfectly clear she was not enjoying it so much as practicing it. She looked for support in her brother and sympathy in her sister and both gave it to her generously and lovingly. She never said a word, never gave a look and never paid any attention to his lordship and yet . . .

Holly smiled. And yet it was perfectly obvious that Miss Darcy was mesmerised by him.

Her husband had, of course, not made it easy on the young girl and only had himself to blame for Miss Darcy’s growing struggle not to give into unbridled adoration. At first he had greeted her warmly, joked a little of her growth and then quite seriously told her she had turned into a very pretty girl and that he had heard great things about her since they last saw one another. Then he asked her about her dog Flora, an unruly spaniel that the girl tightly clutched to her bosom for protection but who escaped her mistress’ arms and was running around begging attention from his lordship more freely and happily than Miss Darcy could. The deed, of course, had been done when Lord Baugham lifted up the dog, let it lick his face and with a laugh pronounced it to be a droll little thing. After that, Miss Darcy was forced to fight her feelings in a most heroic struggle.

“I’m sure you’ll love Cumbermere,” the girl now said, looking very steadily at Holly.

“I’m sure she won’t,” his lordship chimed in, “if she has some sense. But it can’t be helped.”

Miss Darcy struggled but then surrendered. “Is it really as bad as all that?” she asked and let her gaze flitter for a second over his lordship’s face before she came back to Holly again.

“Oh, you should know Lord Baugham takes great delight in cultivating the myth of being saddled with a hopeless legacy. In actuality, it has great potential,” her brother said and filled his grumbling friend’s glass once again. “Beautiful country.”

“And a lot of work,” Baugham said and sent Darcy a look.

“Well, I cannot believe you have not seen it yet,” Miss Darcy said, this time with genuine feeling in her voice. “I should insist on seeing it straight away! I think it sounds very romantic! It is a castle, I’m told, and I do so love castles!”

Then, struck by the horrible thought that she had somehow betrayed herself she blushed and sank into silence.

“Well, I do long to see it,” Holly said gently. “I must confess I do, for nothing arouses curiosity like this mixture of disdain and romantic feeling which I am now forced to completely share. Besides, in my darkest moments I am convinced his lordship married me for my frugality and accustomed penny pinching alone and I am overcome with a desire to prove myself.”

“Well, you have nothing left to prove in other vital areas, I suppose,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “But you mustn’t leave yet. I quite depend upon you tomorrow.”

She reached out and squeezed Holly’s hand. Holly returned her affectionate gesture, but wondered what had happened to Elizabeth’s reliance on her husband. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful between them, but she could not help wondering if their disagreement was resolved or whether it was buried under the expediencies of the coming day. That tone of voice when she told her in the breakfast room there was no time for talk on Mr Darcy’s feelings still hung in the air.

But Elizabeth, Holly knew, was not one to express anger and disappointment without restraint. She nursed it, scrutinised it and then channelled it either through her wit or her scathing conversation. Like all women, she had learnt to hold her tongue and she did so better than most. But when and only when she could express herself could you understand what your true crime had been and sort it out. Usually shocked herself by the words she had nursed in her own mind for so long, Elizabeth would forgive and forget easily, but it took time to arrive at that point. Holly wondered if her husband would give her time, and understand the words for what they were when they finally were expressed.

“Of course we couldn’t leave now!” she therefore said. “It will be such a splendid day!”

It seemed they all agreed on that and the talk shifted onto the prospect of the weather for tomorrow. Miss Darcy found refuge in discussing clothes and worries about if there would be very many people attending.

“Oh, you shouldn’t worry about that, my dear,” Elizabeth told her. “After all, they’ll all be there to see if I find my place in church and whether I can conduct myself properly. You’ll be shamefully ignored, I imagine.”

“Good,” Miss Darcy said and her honest feeling so readily expressed made the women laugh.

That seemed to draw Miss Darcy out of her concern for her brother and active ignoring of his friend and so she even offered a few comments of encouragement for her sister, which Holly whole-heartedly supported.

“You’ll do brilliantly,” she said warmly. “And Pemberley will shine! How could it not?”

As confirmation of that sentiment, Miss Darcy turned her large adoring eyes on the safe, but worthy, object of her sister while Mr Darcy gave a quick, but genuine, smile behind the shelter of the hand over his mouth and Holly decided to believe in her own words after all.

B
AUGHAM STRETCHED HIS ARMS IN
a long luxurious sweep towards the ceiling and added a cat like yawn and growl before he settled down into his pillows with a smile.

“You seem very satisfied with yourself,” his wife said and snuggled into him.

“And I thought it was you, who was supposed to be satisfied with myself.”

“Oh, I was. I am. But I wasn’t talking about your admirable conscious efforts just now, but rather the unconscious ones earlier.”

“What?”

Holly smiled and rubbed his leg with her toes. “How long have you known Miss Darcy?”

There was another big yawn from her husband. “Oh, forever, I suppose. Since she was a baby. Or since she was about ten.”

Holly giggled. “And how long has she adored you in your disdainful ignorance like this?”

“What?”

His voice was sleepy and it was obvious he had no idea what she was talking about. Holly let her fingers play over his chest and tugged at some stray hairs to keep him awake a little longer.

“Miss Darcy,” she said and then put her mouth to his ear, “has a
tendre
for you.”

He turned towards her with his eyes wide open again. “Oh, don’t be silly!” But he looked more alarmed than irritated or dismissive.

“Well, all the signs are there and she is quite adorable about it.”

“If you’re right,” Baugham said, “I don’t think I want to know it. I mean, I’ve done very well
not
knowing and I’m not sure—”

“Oh, but you must be nice about it,” Holly said. “After all, it is inevitable that we shall be seeing much more of her from now on. Our families being so close, that is . . . ”

Her husband looked anything but reassured. “That’s nonsense,” he tried once more. “It really is. And even if—”

“You must be nice to her,” Holly insisted and put her mouth to his earlobe and tucked her hand into his nightshirt as far as it would go, “and not so damned charming and irresistible . . . ”

“Such language. Really, Holly,” he said, smiling and turning to pull her closer, “that mouth of yours.”

“You didn’t mind it so much a few minutes ago,” she smirked but then had to interrupt it to break out into a yawn. “What is going to happen tomorrow?” she asked, already drowsy and not really caring about his answer.

Baugham pursed his lips. “Oh, what always happens when people come together in the country for ceremony: they will all pay reverent attention for about five minutes and think it’s very grand and important and then they will be much too busy gossiping with their neighbour or looking at the girls or taking a nap to care very much what goes on. Until the food is brought out. About Miss Darcy . . . ”

Holly tried but she could not stifle another yawn that welled up through her and the rest of his question was drowned out. “I’m so glad you don’t have Candlemasses like this at Cumbermere,” she muttered.

“No, we don’t. Thank God. Are you going to sleep now?”

A growling noise told him it was already past her control.

“Umpf,” said Baugham but then surrendered and slid down into the bed, too.

Imperfection of our
Present State of Being