Twixt Two Equal Armies (52 page)

Oddly, Holly was not making an attempt at taking the steaming cup from her hands but was looking at her strangely,

“Leaving soon? Why do you say that?”

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “He does not live here permanently, Lie-lie. In fact, he hardly stays here at all, which leads me to ask you what you are going to do once he is away again.”

Holly sat still. “I don’t know what you mean, Maman.”

Mrs Tournier folded her hands and leaned forward.

“I mean, have you made any arrangements concerning continuing your work in his lordship’s library when he removes himself.”

“I . . . He has mentioned no such plans to me,” Holly said defensively.

“It is my understanding he rarely does,” her mother answered dryly. “He has shown remarkable constancy this year as it is, I am given to understand. He will leave — probably sooner than later — but your work will go on. I presume.”

Holly was overcome with a strange feeling of confusion. “Yes . . . yes, I presume it will.”

“Well, then,” her mother said pushing the cup into her hands, “I should say it would be prudent for you to prepare for that eventuality. What you are to do when — not if — he leaves. Wouldn’t it?”

Holly looked down at her hands and forced herself to stir her cup even if there was nothing yet added.

“You are right, Maman,” she said quietly. “That would be prudent. I will.”

She stared in silence for a few minutes while her mother watched and waited.

“He . . . his lordship did mention to me the other day that I was to come and go as I pleased in his absence, but I did not think he meant . . . ” Holly finally said in what was meant to be a conversational tone. “It will be a strange house without him though.”

“Then it is a strange house for the greater part of the year,” her mother said gently.

“I know. It’s just it will be strange working alone. It is work that requires a certain amount of consultation.”

“I suppose it does. But you will have Hamish to help you. And I understand Mrs McLaughlin reigns supreme in the household in her Master’s absence. No doubt she will be of great assistance.”

“No doubt,” Holly said and carefully put down her spoon again. “I like Mrs McLaughlin.”

“Well, then,” Mrs Tournier said.

Holly gave her mother a feeble smile. “Yes. That is that, I suppose.”

“And then there is this, of course.” Mrs Tournier reached into her apron pocket and brought out a folded up letter.

Holly gave it a curious glance but made no effort to take it, even though her mother demonstratively put it on the table between them.

“Don’t you want to find out what it is?” her mother said, slightly irritably.

“Of course”, Holly said, taking a little and curious pleasure in annoying her. “Why don’t you tell me while I finish my supper?”

She attacked her food again and avoided her mother’s look.

“It is from Dr McKenna.”

That earned her a glance and a surprised expression. Secure in her triumph again, Mrs Tournier continued more gently.

“You have been offered a commission, Lie-lie, to illustrate his book. Scenery, as far as I can make out. Involving rocks, no doubt.”

“Oh! But . . . ”

“And that is a good thing”, Mrs Tournier went on more sternly again. “Don’t you agree?”

The fleeting doubt in Holly’s mind that she would be able to set aside and abandon Lord Baugham’s library for something else so soon fluttered away again.

“I do”, she said more determined than she felt. “It is.”

“Well, then”, said the mother and pocketed the letter again. “I will write him and say you accept.” By express, she added to herself.

Chapter 23

When Frustrations are Up and Defences are Down and Tea is Served . . .

Another day of dry weather enabled Baugham to make his customary annual tour around the northern boundaries of his estate. The terrain was good, the air was crisp and cool, and his horse was in a splendid mood — no doubt pleased he was not required to display his obvious talents to any undeserving country nag. Once the circuit was complete, he made his way homeward through the village, picking up his mail and scheduling an appointment with the gunsmith. With nothing left to delay or distract him, he slowly, almost reluctantly, headed toward Rosefarm Cottage. It was a visit he was obliged to make and had not been able to find a way out of, even after a long and arduous ride. The manner of Miss Tournier’s departure yesterday was puzzling and even unsettling. It was not impossible, of course, but he had searched his mind for whatever he might have said or done that had not been taken in the spirit of his pledge of exclusive insult, but he could not remember anything. She had been upset, but why?

As he rode up to the gate he was surprised to see her on the steps, bracing the wind to trim the climbing roses entwined around the entrance. She turned around the moment he rode up and immediately straightened up despite her flushed countenance and steady grip around the thorny wilderness. There was a quick smile of recognition that gave him heart and he decided to try his luck on a lighter note.

“Miss Tournier! How fierce you look with that knife in your hand!” Baugham tried to sound cheerful. “Remind me never to invoke any privileges of mine when you are thus armed.”

Holly, however, simply hoped her smile would disguise the dismay and confusion she felt at his arrival. That immediate feeling of being caught unawares soon yielded to a wry voice reminding her of her mother’s words from yesterday
. He’ll soon be gone again,
it echoed
, and these bothersome visits will stop. I shan’t let him trouble me.

Knowing she looked messy and ridiculous with locks of hair falling in her face and the breeze blowing strands across her eyes, she ignored the embarrassment, dropped the knife and with one hand welcomed him.

“Maman will be pleased to see you have come,” she said in as cheerful and unaffected voice as she could manage under the circumstances. “If you can wait a moment while I tie this back up, I will bring you in.”

“Oh no, no! I beg you would not trouble yourself. My visit today can only irritate her for I cannot stay.” He looked at her closely, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “But in the light of what I just said, you will think me extremely foolhardy, but the temptation is irresistible. I must know: do you mean to tie up the roses or your hair?”

She winced. Of course he would call attention to her unkempt appearance. Miss Tristam, she was certain, would never be found in such a state of disarray
. Never mind, Holly, he will soon be gone . . .

“Well, I see you had enough sense to wait until I had dropped the knife before provoking me.” She tried to smile playfully. “But considering that I am, with some difficulty, attempting to keep this branch from dropping onto my head, it is safe to assume that I am referring to the roses.”

Lord Baugham leaned forward in his saddle.

“I must confess I hoped as much. It seems quite as lovely as it ever could be just as it is. At least compared to the roses,” he hastily added.

She gave him an arch look, but he only laughed. Then, after a slight pause, he impulsively descended from his horse and tied the reins loosely around the garden gate.

“I think you have forgotten my resolution to also flatter you. If so, you are instantly forgiven since I find myself wondering if I have not caused it myself by some unfortunate remark yesterday.”

She looked up with surprise in her eyes.

“Oh, well,” he said while glancing back at his horse. “You left rather suddenly.”

She averted her eyes, too. “Yes, I suppose I did.” There was a flicker of uncertainty on his face and she went on. “Please don’t think it had anything to do with you. I enjoyed myself very much yesterday. It was simply . . . I simply had to leave, that is all.”

It was obvious that her words in no way went far enough to satisfy his curiosity, but he did look slightly more at ease for having been exonerated.

“I understand,” he said. “I left very soon after as well. The Tristam’s very gracefully invited me to take supper with them, though I expect you heard . . . It was a good day and yet . . . ”

“Yes,” she said dryly and turned to her roses again. “And yet.”

“I’m sorry,” he said without really knowing why.

She was struggling with the vines again and he watched her for a moment before he reached out and grabbed a particularly stubborn branch, swinging in the wind above her head and avoiding capture, As he held up the thorny stems and tried to keep them out of her face and hands, she quickly and tightly wound up the heavy vines. There were no words; she was putting great concentration into her efforts and he found he had to do the same. But as she turned and stepped back to assess their work and remove her gloves, her apron strings got caught in the thorns. Baugham looked at the strips of fabric tangled in the barren twigs and gently loosened them from their hold.

“
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me
,” he muttered and let them fall again behind her.

She turned around quickly and looked at him. To her surprise he met her gaze and did not look away for a very long time. He seemed on the brink of saying something, but then hesitated.

“Mrs Tournier,” he said instead and directed his gaze beyond her to the door of the house.

Holly swallowed and looked behind her. Indeed, her mother had appeared at the door and stood watching them quietly. Holly could not quite read her mother’s mood from the look on her face, but she very quickly directed a smile at her and gave her hand for Lord Baugham to kiss.

“Miss Tournier is correct,” Baugham said and gave a bow. “I must decline. Not only because of my impertinence, but also I am obligated to take tea with the Tri — with friends.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Mrs Tournier said dryly.

“However,” Lord Baugham added almost immediately, “perhaps I might take the time for a quick cup to ward off any desperate need for refreshment I might otherwise experience far too soon, though it is more than I deserve under the circumstances.”

“It is exactly what you deserve,” Mrs Tournier smiled narrowly. “Tea, Lie-lie?” she said.

“In a moment, Maman. I’ll just finish up here first. You go ahead.”

Mrs Tournier lingered a moment as did their guest, but since Holly began to look around for her sweep, neither of them had any choice but to walk inside.

S
ITTING IN THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
that same afternoon, Dr McKenna was having a difficult time keeping his mind on the lecture notes he was preparing. The letter from Mrs Tournier had arrived at last yesterday and it contained the welcome news that Miss Tournier would be delighted to accept his offer. He stared ahead, feeling a curious sense of relief and not a little confusion over why it should be the case. He knew the prospect of finally publishing
The Geological Formations and Features of the Scottish Countryside
was only a small part of it, because up till now he had been content to bury himself in the halls of academia or lose himself in his treks of exploration and not concern himself overly with seeking recognition or, in fact, even completing what had become a years-long work in progress and somewhat of a joke among his colleagues.

But suddenly, once he had seen Sir John Leslie’s finished work — the bound leather cover, the fine paper, the quality typesetting and the lovely, yet still clear and concise illustrations that added just the right level of professionalism, taste and beauty to the text — he was now very anxious to see his words and findings in print as well.

Then his mind wandered back to that night in Sir John’s dining room, when he, Sir John and Miss Tournier talked and plotted and planned a way for her to find work, and further back to that evening at Rosefarm Cottage, in the kitchen, and how her face lit up when Sir John offered her his commission.

McKenna smiled to himself. Miss Tournier needed the work, and he was anxious for his treatise to be at last completed. Once he was able to bring a few more aspects into line, he would make the journey to Clanough to settle the matter. She had appeared so sad and defeated upon leaving Edinburgh when he had last seen her . . . he decided that he would very much enjoy the opportunity to bring that light to her face once again.

“
I
WAS TAUGHT BY PEOPLE
who still believed in the ideals of the enlightened era, my lord. I was taught that natural sciences were the foundation on which the advancement of mankind — economic and social — as well as the welfare of the people was based. Only through knowledge of the world and resources around us can we build our wealth as a nation and as a people.”

“And now it is all belligerent nationalist politics?”

“Quite. Fine principles have deteriorated into a contest of arms and violent strength. I find that hard to bear sometimes. We no longer benefit from the finest minds of different nations competing and sharing their discoveries in an attempt at reaching the same goal. The furthering of knowledge for the betterment of mankind has given way to patriotism and the quest for power and riches, built on the ashes of foreign nations and the bodies of strange soldiers.”