Twixt Two Equal Armies (33 page)

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Darcy looked at his friend for a moment.

“You are standing in front of the window assessing the view and the weather. That is my usual prerogative.”

“Hmpf.”

Baugham broke away from his idleness with a jerk and walked around the drawing room.

“I’ll be in the library. Where is that newspaper?”

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY, THE GIRLS WALKED
to the posting inn slowly, as if to delay the inevitable separation looming before them and enjoying one last private, heart-to-heart conversation.

“What do you think, Holly?”

Holly was quiet a while. “I think he loves you very much,” she finally quietly said.

Elizabeth smiled.

“But . . . ” Holly went on, hesitating, “I’m sorry, but I have to say this too. I don’t know
how
he loves you. I mean, are you
sure
of what he wants from you? I’m sorry to be blunt, but there it is. I keep looking for a sign of selflessness and understanding in him. Sometimes I think I see it — well, lately that is, but I still feel like I must say it.”

Elizabeth’s face turned grave and she took her cousin’s hand in hers.

“There was something I never told you, Holly, about Mr Darcy. I did not because I was certain I should never see him again and the information was regarding a third party I thought . . . I thought I should protect her.”

As they walked, Elizabeth, in quiet tones, told Holly about what Mr Darcy had disclosed to her about his sister and her misfortunes with Mr Wickham.

“And Holly, despite this he was the one who took care and found poor Lydia. And he paid for everything. My uncle was allowed to do nothing! My father thinks he must have paid Mr Wickham at least ten thousand pounds to extract him from his debts and convince him to marry Lydia.”

Holly was speechless.

“Why?” she finally said. “Why would he do that?”

“I think he felt it was his mistake to correct.”

“But Lydia — ” Holly began and then stopped. There was no way of continuing without casting light over her aunt and uncle’s negligence and Lydia’s thoughtlessness.

Then suddenly she understood. She saw it clearly and she smiled as she thought back to what Mr Darcy had said about his father. Something she recognised so well herself.

“Elizabeth,” she said, “I think Mr Darcy has been the victim of living in the shadow of an ideal. A larger than life figure that showed him what greatness should be, but he missed an important lesson: the fact that greatness comes not from living up to an example, but from living up to your own convictions.”

“What do you mean? Do you mean his father?” Then a softer look swept across Elizabeth’s face. “And yours?”

“Yes, I do. I think Mr Darcy desperately wants to do right and serve his father’s memory to be a worthy successor, but he forgot to make allowances for his own fallibility and humanity as well. We are not perfect just because we display a perfect front. Mr Wickham threatened that image of perfection by hurting him where he was proudest — his affection and care for his family, even by proving him wrong to have trusted a childhood friend and a favourite of his father’s. Such a thing does not go away until you admit you were mistaken and stop trying to hide your faults at all costs. At the cost of others. At the cost of Lydia and from what you tell me, countless tradesmen’s daughters.”

Holly stopped and grabbed Elizabeth’s other hand too and looked at her earnestly.

“What he did was wrong, but he told you the truth and then when that was not enough, he faced his failure by rectifying another one. That was very brave of him — and generous. Not the money, but the laying himself bare to accusations and blame and the shameful truth of his association with that scoundrel.”

“So . . . ?”

“So I think he is a good man. You told me so once, remember? And I think you were right.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth smiled and looked down at their crossed hands, “I think I was.”

There was a pause; Holly knew Elizabeth needed to go on with something important still left unsaid.

“Holly,” Elizabeth said quietly, still looking down, “about that foreswearing we did so happily just a few weeks ago. I might have to break my pledge.”

Holly smiled. “Please don’t worry. I’ll keep it for both of us.”

She attempted to resume the slow walk not to be late, but Elizabeth held her in place.

“No, Holly. Please don’t hold on to it too tightly. Promise me that if there is the least evidence — or the slightest doubt — that you will open your heart to the possibility of breaking it, too. Promise me you will learn from my mistake and not let prejudice, or pride of the mind, overrule your heart completely.”

Holly frowned, but now Elizabeth met her gaze squarely. “If reason and emotion should meet in the same person, promise me you will have the courage to be persuaded and not hide or be afraid?”

“That is a tall order for any person to achieve,” Holly said still frowning.

“True,” Elizabeth said, “but it has been known to happen and I just want you to believe that you deserve it, too.”

All too soon the coach arrived. Elizabeth’s trunks were loaded and she was hurried aboard to keep to the tight schedule of the post. Holly leaned in and the two cousins exchanged tearful goodbyes and before either of them were ready, the door was shut and Elizabeth Bennet was on her way to Hertfordshire and Holly was left, alone and desolate, at the roadside.

She stood watching until the coach diminished into a mere speck and then disappeared altogether. She fought back the sobs, but her tears ran freely down her cheeks; she would miss Elizabeth profoundly. Her interval of respite and enjoyment was at an end, and now it was time to make some very hard decisions. She drew in a shuddering breath as the growing chill in the air convinced her that her prolonged study of the horizon would do nothing to bring her cousin any closer. Shivering, she turned and began the slow walk back home.

She had not taken three steps when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, another figure on the edge of the green in front of the inn, facing the same direction from which she had just turned. Mr Darcy. A grateful feeling arose in her heart to him; he must have been fully as sorry as she was to see Elizabeth leave, but he had allowed them their time together, a quiet goodbye unimpeded by his presence. She took a step toward him and, as if suddenly noting her presence, he made his way across the green as well. They met in the middle and he offered her his arm without a word. She took it silently and they walked slowly down the road to Rosefarm Cottage. Not a word was exchanged between them, nothing needed to be said — Elizabeth had gone.

He escorted her up to the gate and it was there that she finally broke the companionable silence.

“I envy you, Mr Darcy.”

He looked at her, his expression confused.

“You do? May I ask why?”

“Because,” she smiled sadly, “you have the means and the opportunity to go after her. That
is
what you mean to do, isn’t it?”

A sudden smile spread across his features and Holly noted how it changed his whole appearance.

“Why . . . ” he hesitated. “Yes,” he then firmly said. “You are absolutely right in that.” His beaming face betrayed his every thought and wish, “It is, in fact, exactly what I mean to do.”

“I should hope so,” Holly said. “Go!”

“I will, Miss Tournier, I will!”

J
UST AFTER SUNSET
D
ARCY WALKED
into the library. “Baugham, I thank you for your hospitality but I leave in the morning.”

Baugham turned in his chair and watched as his friend sank back into his. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Bennet having left this afternoon?”

“It would. And I want to be able to put myself at Bingley’s disposal if he should ask me.”

“He hasn’t asked you?”

“No.”

Baugham could not help but smile. “Good Lord, Darcy, you have become very meek and subservient in your old age! Six months ago you would have taken it for granted that Bingley was incapable of getting married without you!”

Darcy returned the wry smile. “That was six months ago.”

A moment of complete understanding passed between them and Baugham got out of his chair to find the appropriate companion for this silent, combined celebration and farewell. The glasses were filled, homage was paid to colour, smell and taste and they settled to enjoy the rare and ancient brew.

“Well, I should add good luck to that, I suppose,” Baugham said thoughtfully after a few moments alone with his whiskey.

“I hope I shan’t need luck,” Darcy answered him. “But thank you.”

That was all that was said for a long time thereafter. Both men seemed lost in their thoughts, feeling silence was the proper respect to be shown to this moment. After a while, however, Darcy looked at his friend and the sheer force of his concentrated gaze made Baugham look up from his own reverie.

“What?”

“Thank you.” It was said in a different tone this time. A tone that made Baugham smile sheepishly and wave away his friend’s gratitude with an impatient and embarrassed wave of his hand.

“Not at all,” he muttered. “It has been an interesting experience. From the sidelines, so to speak.”

Thus they sat each content with his own efforts in the matter of Mr Darcy’s short Scottish holiday. Finally Darcy got out of his chair.

“I shall see you in Town then perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” Darcy hesitated as he was about to walk away. “Will you continue your acquaintance with the Rosefarm ladies although I am gone?”

“Possibly. Well, probably. I like Mrs Tournier.”

“And Miss Tournier?”

Baugham snorted. “I was predisposed to, but I have never met a woman who made it more difficult for me to like her. Or indeed just sharing a superficial acquaintance. She is the most exasperating, annoying thing, isn’t she? Scrutinising, judging, bothersome and quarrelsome. Besides, she clearly doesn’t like me. Other than that?” he shrugged, “I can hardly avoid her now.”

Darcy hesitated.

“Baugham . . . behave yourself, will you?”

Baugham sent his friend a look of affronted exasperation.

“Well, I needed to say it,” Darcy answered, “regardless.”

Baugham shook his head and went back to his book. “I sincerely hope you realise that my calm incredulity at your really quite insulting suspicions does everything needed to refute any notions you might have of me being unable to act like a gentleman.”

“Quite.” Mr Darcy looked at him for a moment before walking through the door. Baugham watched him leave and then returned to his silent contemplation of the fire.

Chapter 15

Normal Life is Tried but Found Wanting in Clanough and Old Habits Make a Disturbing Re-appearence

The week after Elizabeth’s departure was spent quietly at Rosefarm. Letters to Longbourn were written and posted and letters from Longbourn were anticipated long before they could possibly have been sent. Mrs Tournier spent a great deal of time reading and working upstairs in her chamber, consigning the parlour to her daughter’s artistic endeavours and whatever pompous nonsense Mr Pembroke was hard at work perfecting at the cost of more candles than she cared to consider.

The rain was intermittent, but the cold was growing deep and constant, and any outings Holly made necessitated her heaviest outerwear against the sharpness of the wind and weather. Despite this, she availed herself of a long walk at least once a day to escape the tensions in the house and her feelings of isolation.

The day that she completed the final touches on the last colour plate was one of mixed emotions for her. As she looked them over she was proud of her accomplishment, they had turned out as well or better than she had hoped and she knew Sir John would be pleased. Yet, at the same time it signalled the end of her commission. She was now, again, without gainful employment. Sir John’s offer of compensation was generous and she was grateful, but it was a finite amount and she knew that she must at once begin looking for something else.

She sat deep in thought, idly letting her gaze wander across the room until it rested upon their visitor. There had been hardly any interaction between them since that fateful night at the Tristam soirée. Of course, such were the conditions at Rosefarm there was hardly any opportunity for private encounters, but it also seemed to Holly that Mr Pembroke was keeping his distance deliberately. What had passed between the two of them and witnessed by Lord Baugham was never touched upon. Holly never told her mother or her cousin and likewise it seemed he was perfectly content with pretending that incident had never happened and that he had never directed any words to her that night. For the moment, he was still here and still acting as he always did. From experience, it was certain his sojourn would not last very much longer. There was already an impatience in him, a boredom setting in and an obvious disinterest in raising any topics with his hosts, even ones that would put him in a favourable light.