Twixt Two Equal Armies (56 page)

“My lord, have I in ignorance seemed to agree to anything more than organising your library?”

His frown deepened and his folly seemed fresh and doubly treacherous again. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath filled with remorse. As unfortunate as the question was, he had to admit that her concern was legitimate considering the position he had put her in, and he also acknowledged that she was brave to ask it. So he must do his best to reassure her — if such a thing was possible.

“You fear, I suppose,” he slowly said, “that my action against you can only have been a result of a disrespect of your person; that I have such a low estimation of you as to be able to insult you and impose upon you simply because I am in a position to do so, as a means to humiliate you and punish you for your . . . frankness. In light of my crime I understand your concern, but I assure you most emphatically nothing could be further from the truth. I have the highest regard for your character and integrity, Miss Tournier. The blame is mine alone.

“I appreciate your candour and I shall return it. At no point have you been guilty of misreading the very simple and clear understanding we came to concerning your work here. There can be no doubt about the terms and conditions — they are and have been purely business in nature. It was never my intention to take advantage.”

Not quite able to meet his eyes, Holly began to idly sort through a pile of books.

“My lord, I had not thought you held me in such low estimation and I am glad to hear I was not mistaken. But for such a thing to be done . . . We live in a very closed society here, my lord, not well traversed in intricacies and games of more sophisticated minds and places. I could not help but wonder.”

He sighed quietly. She was once again asking for an explanation, and he was once again unable to oblige her, however much he would like to. But how could he explain away such a thoughtless, impulsive action? There was no justification, no reason, no excuse, no defence — only blind stupidity and unending regret on his part. He could not explain, so he did not attempt it. Instead, he knew he owed her the power of his next question.

“Of course, if you in any way feel your position here in this house to be untenable, you have only to say so. I could not, of course, in light of the circumstances, penalise you for leaving the job unfinished and I would fulfil my agreed obligations in full, just as promised.”

He hesitated.

“I hope, however, that will not be the case. It would grieve me greatly to have caused so much irreparable harm. I will not trouble you any further, should you wish it.”

During her long, sleepless night, Holly had determined that he would never see how she had been affected, so she forced herself to look at him directly.

“I have a job to do — and I expect you will not be surprised to find that I intend to complete it. My mother thinks highly of you and values your friendship, as I know you value hers, and I would not wish to . . . if I were to suddenly quit here she would ask questions that I could not help but answer . . . I see no reason to allow something so obviously meaningless to change the way we go about our lives. I believe it will be best to continue on as we have.”

That last declaration used up what was left of her strength so she quickly turned and busied herself with shuffling random stacks around.

“If that is indeed your wish, nothing could make me happier,” he said in a subdued voice. “I . . . You must let me say, Miss Tournier, I am very grateful for your decision. I will endeavour to be worthy of your trust and forgiveness.”

Her answer was inaudible and he sensed she had rather he left. He would. But there was still one more thing. He touched the sheets of papers he held in his pocket and slowly drew them out.

“Miss Tournier.”

She did turn around and he could almost see the despair in her face. He hastily pulled forth the letters and showed them to her.

“I received these yesterday. From Mr Darcy. In Hertfordshire.”

Holly looked at the letters in his hand but did not move. Baugham sighed and slowly put them on the table beside him.

“I believe they contain the happiest of news. And perhaps long expected news as well. My congratulations to you are in order.”

Holly looked at him with a puzzled expression. “To me?” she whispered.

“Yes. Your cousin is getting married. To a very decent and good man. In view of how I know Mr Darcy feels both about you and Miss Bennet, I have no difficulty in offering my congratulations to all her family. It is a good and happy match. And everything I should wish both for him and her.”

With that he left her looking at the letters on the table and removed himself. As he reached the door, he spied Hamish quietly coming in. Baugham smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Well,” he said in a cheerful voice, “had enough apple loaf to get you through til dinner, eh? I hope you left some for me, for I have tedious work ahead of me — not unlike you — and I quite depend upon it to sustain me for quite a while longer.”

Hamish looked at him under his fringe and smiled.

“It’s very good, sir,” he said, “and I think Mrs McLaughlin could possibly forgive me if ye went back and ate the rest I couldnae. But I didnae want to keep Miss Tournier waitin’.”

“No, you’re a good boy,” Baugham said and smiled back as he stepped through the door. “Now run along and make yourself useful.”

Hamish nodded and took a few running steps up to Miss Tournier.

“Here I am, miss,” he said. “Let me help ye now.”

Holly had picked up the letters and was looking at her name and her mother’s in Elizabeth’s distinct hand. Of course she knew what was in them; there could be no surprise there. Still, she was hesitant. Could she read it here and now? Was it advisable? Would she regret reading her cousin’s intimate confessions or joyful exclamations in this room?

With Hamish looking at her expectantly, she made her decision and stuffed the letters into her apron pocket. She let her hand rest on them while she addressed the boy.

“Yes, Hamish. There’s a lot to be done!”

A
T THE END OF THE
day, Holly walked slowly down the hall as she was leaving Clyne, steeling herself toward the possibility that he would appear out of obligation to walk her out, but he did not. She sighed; no explanation, no hint of . . . anything. Simply more apologies and remorse and back to work. Telling herself she was relieved, she made her way home undisturbed and occupied by her thoughts.

It occurred to her that she had never thanked him for the letters. Those long awaited, eagerly anticipated letters. Thus, she could not help but feel as if she had failed both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy in not mustering up a more enthusiastic reception. He must feel that she was not pleased or that she was incapable of rejoicing on her cousin’s behalf. Lord Baugham was right, it was a good match and everything she wanted for her cousin, too.

She squared her shoulders and forced him out of her mind once more, patting the letters thorough her apron for the tenth time that afternoon. This had nothing to do with him and she would not let him interfere with what was a joyful family concern! She pictured Elizabeth in her mind’s eye: how she must have smiled and laughed while writing, how happy she must be now that all her uncertainties and struggles were at last resolved. This was about her beloved Elizabeth, and Holly determinedly kept that thought foremost in her mind as she walked, and when she reached Rosefarm, she once more turned her thoughts away from the uncertainty and doubt that the messenger of the letters had induced in her.

“Mother!” she shouted as soon as she opened the door. “I have news!”

She knew exactly where to find her. Her mother sat with her feet up on a stool in front of the fire, reading a book in the parlour.

“News? From Elizabeth?”

“From whom else?” Holly smiled. “They were delivered to Clyne Cottage with Mr Darcy’s letter to Lord Baugham.” She congratulated herself for hardly hesitating at all when mentioning his name.

“Shall we guess what’s inside?” She waved the letters in front of her mother dramatically.

Mrs Tournier laughed. “Two? May I chose which one?” She took her feet off the stool and Holly slipped onto it. She placed her mother’s letter in her lap. “I can wait a few moments more. Open yours first and read it aloud!”

Her mother gave her a sly smile and carefully broke the seal.

“
Dear Aunt
,” she read.

“
I have a few facts to relate to you, which you and Holly may discuss amongst yourselves. Furthermore, to ensure you have topics on which to speculate that meet with your standards of both currency and depth, I have added a few points on which I would have your reactions to post haste.

“I am marrying Mr Darcy within the month. I love him very much and he is devoted to me. So far, there has been not a single matter for dispute among the two of us during our engagement (besides who is the more worthy of adoration, of course), but I do not expect that to last for very long. Then again, neither would I wish it to always naturally be so. One would not want to be forced to create artificial bones of contention with one’s spouse based on merely a desire for lively discussion, after all.

“ — The wedding will be on the 20th.

“ — You must both come as soon as possible and I will arrange it all.

“ — You must stay at Longbourn.

“ — You must wear something gay for the wedding and let your boldness for once outweigh your sense.

“Brevity is the soul of wit and so I embrace both of you warmly and close this in anticipation of your quick answer.

“Your,

“Eliza”

Holly gave a smile. Her mother looked up from the letter and met her eyes.

“Oh she is a sly girl! Poking fun like that, but I suppose brides-to-be may be as sly as they want while they still have time, before marriage effectively cures them of it.”

“Do you think Elizabeth will be cured of it?” Holly said surprised. “I think not. It is who she is. And after all, Mr Darcy seems to be a great admirer of her pert opinions. I should think she would take care not to change, wouldn’t you?”

Mrs Tournier smiled at her daughter. “If I should hazard a guess, I think Mr Darcy will be the sly one for a while after they are married. But let us not speculate about the intimacies of a marriage that has yet to take place,” she hastily added when her daughter gave her a curious look and opened her mouth to ask what she meant. She couldn’t possibly explain
that
bit to her daughter.

“Do you think they will be happy?” Holly asked thoughtfully.

“No one knows,” her mother answered. Holly looked a little disappointed. “Oh, I don’t mean they do not stand an excellent chance of coming to an understanding and finding many unexpected things to delight in one another. But no one knows. I hope they will.”

“I think they will,” Holly said determinedly. “Although she will be very grand, will she not? Oh! Do you think they will invite us to Pemberley! I would love to see it!”

Mrs Tournier smiled. “Now
that
I am certain they will.”

Holly sat quietly for a moment, lost in daydreams of what a grand house such as Pemberley might be like inside and picturing her cousin ruling over it all with grace and benevolence. She was interrupted by her mother’s impatient fidgeting.

“And your letter, Lie-lie? Have you any plans to read it anytime soon?”

Smiling, Holly opened her letter and held it out so they could read it together. She could almost hear Elizabeth’s voice ringing through the words, see her beaming face and she sighed in what she assumed was happiness and anticipation.

“So . . . we may go, may we not, Maman? If it is all arranged?” At Mrs Tournier’s assurance that she would not miss the event for the world, Holly ventured another hopeful question. “Maybe . . . do you suppose that we might . . . buy gowns for the occasion? Gay ones, as Elizabeth says. Do you think?”

Mrs Tournier looked at her girl. Her little girl, who was not so little anymore except in some cases. She smiled.

“I think I can very well do without one, my dear. If you like, I will dye an old feather and stick it in my hair in a savage fashion and that will do for gayness on my part. But you — well, I think you might rather have at least two thirds of a new gown. I suppose that can be managed. In fact, it must be managed. Perhaps the two of us could pay Mrs Peterson a visit tomorrow and I’ll see if I can bully her into redoing something for you for a pittance. Something appropriately gay.”

H
OLLY SAT DOWN ON HER
bed and took out Elizabeth’s letter from her pocket again. She had hardly had time to read it properly before. Now she was alone with the sheet of paper burning between her fingers, and she could finally give it her undivided attention.

Longbourn
Hertfordshire

My dearest, sweetest cousin,

I must, of course, as is polite and right, start by offering my excuses for being so lacking in my correspondence. Wedding preparations, as you must understand, take up a large amount of time just thinking about things to be done and remembered. Brides-to-be are notorious for thinking the needs and wishes of everyone else can very well wait while they ponder ribbons and the very demanding question of veil or not. Even dear Jane, as good and considerate as she is, is not beyond such selfishness, I have found. The colour of the wedding gown alone is a matter worth several hours of study and reflection, I have learned.