Twixt Two Equal Armies (12 page)

“I must apologise to you, Holly,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I have yet again been too lost in my own selfish concerns to even notice there was something wrong or to ask you how you are. And you have listened so patiently and faithfully to my stupidities and self-indulgencies.”

“No, Elizabeth,” Holly said steadfastly and fastened her own grip on her cousin’s hands. “Don’t say that. Can’t you see how happy I am right now? I am! I am happy because I am home, I have that commission, I have the party and most of all I have you here with me. Can’t you see? And I am happy because for once I do not have to wallow in my own self-pity and miseries, but I can share yours.” She smiled. “We always do that, you know: we are honest and we tell each other what we want the other to know. I would have told you in time, I swear I would have. But right now I just want to revel in my good fortune and the fact that you are here.”

“I
am
here,” Elizabeth said. “And I am so very happy to be so.”

M
R
D
ARCY GLANCED AT HIS
watch once again. He was sitting in a chair in his friend’s room watching him try on yet another coat.

“Perhaps we should have gone fishing after all,” he muttered. “Assuming trout don’t merit the same esthetical consideration as your fellow human beings.”

“They are Presbyterians, Darcy,” Baugham answered as he straightened his sleeves. “Not the fish,” he hastened to clarify, “the human beings. They believe in predestination. And I am predestined to be late — there is nothing I care to do about that — so I might as well look my best. Everyone’s going to stare, you know.”

“How much more ‘your best’ can you possibly look after trying on four different coats?”

“The devil is in the details. So are you still bent on going? Or shall it be the trout after all?”

“I always attend when I am in the country. It is a moral duty.”

“From what I hear, you always attend more to comparing the tenant roll to the congregation at Pemberley and then pester your sister to remember everyone’s name rather than the sermon.”

“Who told you that?”

“Your sister; she claims you make her visit the absentees under the guise of charity.”

“It
is
charity. No one owes me any explanation. She could have told you that, too.”

“She did.”

Baugham sighed and seemed finally to have settled on a choice. Darcy threw one last glance at himself in the mirror beside his friend before he picked up his hat and gloves. Yes, people would stare. They always did. But in this case, attention and gossip might just be a good thing.

“Are we to visit all the local congregations in the name of moral duty? Shall we go up north to the Catholic church next week?” Baugham asked his friend as he considered his old hymnbook.

“‘One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all’
,”
Darcy said and strode out ahead of him. “It is a fine day. Let us walk.”

“True enough, I suppose,” his lordship muttered and followed him out, “but if the trout don’t bite tomorrow, I am holding you responsible.”

The walk was accomplished in silence, interrupted periodically by his lordship’s sighs, which gradually grew into laments about the waste of fine fishing weather.

“You know, Darcy,” he said. “It is entirely possible to bask in the presence of our Creator while also taking pleasure in His handiwork. It isn’t too late — oh, apparently it is. I see that we are here.”

B
AUGHAM DID HIS BEST NOT
to fidget under the stern glare of his friend, but it was difficult to sit still when he could feel the eyes of the entire congregation directed at them. Church attendance was not conducive to his plans to remain separate and aloof from the local populace and he could hardly understand how he had let himself be talked into coming. While he tried his best to find a comfortable position, the voice of the reverend droned on, seemingly endlessly.

Sneaking a sidelong look, Baugham was gratified to see that Darcy himself was not paying the strictest attention to the discourse, but appeared to be surreptitiously surveying the gathered worshippers. Smiling slyly, he leaned in and whispered to his friend, “Eyes forward, son. It wouldn’t do to offend the locals.”

Darcy glared but turned his attention to the sermon. His lordship had just settled into a deep spiritual and not so spiritual contemplation on how church pews contributed to the Christian experience when he was startled by Darcy sitting up abruptly beside him.

“Amen,” he said in a terse voice. Thus ended the service. Hardly had the reverend closed his book of discourses before Baugham felt Darcy nudge him hastily with his elbow.

“It is over,” he said. “Let’s go.”

He groaned and awkwardly slipped his tall frame out of the ancient seats wondering at Darcy’s apparent eagerness to exit the building before anyone else. He stretched his legs carefully as he replaced his hat and slipped on his gloves. The small church was warm by now, although the service had been short and to the point. As a result, Baugham felt kindly towards the northern form of reformed faith and even had a smile for the curious who now could take a closer look at them.

His friend was already pressing resolutely towards the exit. Indeed, Baugham thought his haste and near rudeness as he pushed himself past the crowds a little funny, since he was the one who had insisted they would come and so eloquently had persuaded him to desert his trout.

Finally he caught up with him, but only because he was standing still and letting his gaze sweep over the departing congregation on the immediate outside of the building.

“Look no further,” Baugham said as he reached him. “Here I am. I must say I was — ”

But he got no further before Darcy interrupted him without ever having given him a glance.

“Miss Bennet!” he said in a loud, clear voice.

Several people turned and looked, but one young woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him.

“Mr Darcy!” she said in an astonished voice.

And that was it. That was the extent of the conversation. Baugham looked at his friend, then at the object of his unwavering attention; a slight young woman with fine eyes staring straight back at him, and ultimately at her darker friend, who was possessively holding onto her arm and narrowing her eyes at the silent, but resonant, scene.
The way she held her head high, giving Darcy openly hostile looks and squaring her jaw told Baugham her determination hid a considerable temper. It did lend spirit to her otherwise stern countenance, though, he admitted, and had she not been an obvious prickly one, she might even have been considered handsome in a fiery, Gallic way.

A slow grin spread across his face as realisation took hold of him and various curious details in his friend’s behaviour over the past week were explained.

“Aha!” said Lord Baugham and his face broke out into a brilliant smile.

Chapter 5

In which Mr Darcy’s First Ambition is finally Realised and Reactions thereto are Varied

Allow me to introduce myself!” his lordship said as the silent scene before him in the churchyard threatened to slip into embarrassment. “My name is Lord Baugham. And you must be Miss Tournier?”

The darker young woman turned her eyes on him and Baugham almost took a step back at the strong, unbridled resentment in them.

Holly recognised the name of the effectively absentee Clyne estate owner and she grew defensive immediately. From the moment she had heard, several years earlier, that an impoverished Sir Donald Clyne had sold his lands at a bargain price to an English peer who had apparently made the purchase on a whim of fancy, she had formed an early and strong dislike toward that peer, whoever he might be. What right did a stranger have to swoop in and gobble up the local land, especially such a beautiful and treasured place as Clyne? Combine this with the fact that he was now here with the man who had caused Elizabeth so much pain, both looking far too grand to grace a sermon at an obscure country church, and Holly found it nearly impossible to be civil.

Ignoring his look of puzzlement, she then turned to her cousin and tried to catch her attention away from this Mr Darcy who had so unexpectedly appeared. Darcy’s friend, however, apparently had different ideas, for he immediately engaged her in inane conversation.

“We are practically neighbours,” he went on in spite of the young woman’s obvious reluctance to take their acquaintance any further. “I own Clyne Cottage — well, I say
practically
neighbours, because we are separated by some backfields, of course, and that little patch of woodland.”

Reluctantly Holly confirmed his assumption of her identity while she kept a careful eye on her cousin, quickly calculating how soon she could rescue Elizabeth from what was obviously a terrible discomfiture. But that peculiar friend of Mr Darcy’s talked on and on and she could not break his onslaught of social pleasantries, however hard she tried to give him her best stern schoolmistress eye.
Good Lord
, she thought while she waited for an opening to present itself,
is this chatterbox really a friend of that arrogant Mr Darcy?
They looked like Tom and Jerry strutting about in such a ridiculous fashion outside their own natural surroundings! Well, she would not let Elizabeth or herself play Kate or Sue to them. She would get her away from there — soon!

Her cousin remained subdued and awkward until Mr Darcy, apparently as the result of some super human effort, was able to silence his friend and addressed Elizabeth on some polite nonsense about her family. Elizabeth relaxed slightly and answered him, accepting his congratulations on the upcoming marriage of her sister. Mr Darcy could not take his eyes off her, though he wore a distinctly confounded expression and was shifting his weight from one leg to the other, seemingly anxious to take his leave. There was a small lull in the conversation when the questions on families and health were exhausted and Holly wasted no time taking advantage of it.

“I am afraid my mother will be expecting us back,” she said. “She would not want us to be late for her tea.”

She tugged at Elizabeth’s arm; she was still staring at Mr Darcy, hypnotised by what Holly recognised as a very dangerous look in his eyes.

“Perhaps we will have the pleasure again soon, Miss Bennet?” Mr Darcy said. “Miss Tournier?” He turned to her, adding her name as an afterthought.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said quietly and Holly did not answer at all. She simply raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth and steered her away.

The men stayed rooted to the spot, looking after them as they hurried down the knoll and onto the village lane. After they slipped out of sight, Baugham concentrated on his friend, who stayed gazing after them for a long time.

“Well,” Lord Baugham said breaking the silence after a good while, “tea would have been nice.”

E
LIZABETH STORMED DOWN THE LANE
and Holly found she was forced to take small running steps to keep up with her.

As Rosefarm appeared at the end of the narrow road, Elizabeth suddenly stopped and faced her cousin.

“Holly,” she said, “I cannot go home yet; I must have a few minutes. Please humour me. I will meet you shortly at the big elm by the crossing.”

“Of course,” Holly said, “but what . . . ”

She had time for nothing more before Elizabeth stuffed her hymnbook and shawl into her arms and broke out in a run, leaving her cousin behind. Holly had to confess the respite might be good for her as well — the appearance of Mr Darcy and his friend had also shocked her and she felt very uncertain of herself. Angry and jealous and disappointed, this was not what she had expected from Elizabeth’s visit. Curse those men with their easy smiles and self-righteous lordly manners! They cared nothing for anything but their own will and fancy! Holly wandered the lanes for the requested few minutes and then slowly made her way towards the agreed meeting.

She spotted her cousin standing by the old, nearly bare tree, looking out for her. Holly quickened her pace and soon caught up with her.

“Better?” she asked quietly and slowly gave back the shawl and book.

Elizabeth smiled and fiddled with her effects before she answered. “Marginally; at least I know now what is bothering me enough to make me bolt like that and cause a spectacle in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.

Holly said nothing and Elizabeth took a deep breath.

“Holly, I am so confused. I do not know one fact from another anymore. What is he doing here? The nerve of him! To happen upon me like that when I had no idea and could not prepare myself! Or can you give me a reason I even
should
prepare myself? Why do I feel like I should?”

She clenched her fists and hugged her hymnbook tight in an effort to calm down.

“Did you see how he looked at me and how nice he was? I cannot help but think maybe he has changed . . . and then, Holly, I must say this out loud even though the thought rightly frightens me. Do you suppose he is here for me? Or just to visit his friend? Is this a terrible co-incidence, and if not, then what exactly is it? What is he on about?”