Twixt Two Equal Armies (64 page)

“Well, I must say it is a great comfort to have Hamish’s future taken care of and to be able to lay his fate in your capable and caring hands. That does make my other steadfast resolution easier to execute.”

He was aware of Miss Tournier interrupting her chores and turning around.

“Had enough of what Scotland can offer you in the way of blizzards, sleet and fog at this season, have you?” Mrs Tournier said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Baugham returned the smile graciously enough, but Miss Tournier’s face did not change. She wore a small frown now and was obviously waiting for more explanation.

“Yes, I’m leaving,” he said and then realised he had not quite meant to be so abrupt. “That is to say, I cannot put off my promise to join Mr Darcy in London any longer. I understand Mr Bingley is quite anxious for Mr Darcy, and thus me as well, to join him at Netherfield. Apparently he finds spending time with his bride-to-be is being burdened by the bride’s family.”

Mrs Tournier gave a short laugh. “From what I hear, Mr Bingley is a most affable man.”

“Yes he is. Which makes me think Mr Darcy’s sole companionship is not going to be of as much assistance as he might wish.”

Baugham threw Miss Tournier a glance again. Still she said nothing.

“My man informs me that I will be ready to travel the day after tomorrow,” he went on. “But, of course, once you arrive I shall be very happy to see you both again.”

Mrs Tournier and his lordship exchanged a smile and when he tried to include the daughter in it, he found that she had once more turned her back and the spoons were again being gathered and the saucers piled on top of one another.

Suddenly the air was filled with the goodbyes he had said and the distance he was already busy putting between them. It was time to go. He kissed Mrs Tournier’s hand, who assured him she would be very happy to rescue him from any duties that were placed upon him by his insensitive friends. Then he stood and walked over to Miss Tournier, who was now holding the tea tray and effectively blocking him from performing the same goodbye to her.

“Of course, if you have plans to visit Clyne tomorrow, this is not our final farewell.”

She nodded and shifted the tray closer to herself. Since she said no more, Baugham found he had no choice but to find his hat and, with a bow, simply leave her by wishing her a good evening.

Chapter 28

Where Some Move Away and Some Move Forward and Yet Some Wonder about Directions in General

A restless night and a fanciful notion of nostalgia made Lord Baugham spend the next day in the saddle. He rode across his small estate and beyond as if saying goodbye to the hills and fells and the river, all the while puzzling over his purpose at staying on for so long after so much had gone so wrong. In ordinary circumstances he would have left ages ago. Probably soon after Darcy had gone, and certainly right away upon receipt of his letter. He really did not know what made him stay. Heaven knew he had obligations elsewhere that he should not have so long delayed, but for some strange reason he felt a force that held him to Clyne, even now, stronger than the one that pulled him away.

As if testing that force he stayed out until the early dusk of a grey winter day crept over the fields and in through the woods. He then turned back and realised as he saw the lighted windows of Clyne from a distance that the pull was still there as strong as ever, even though his plans were fixed and he was most assuredly leaving in the morning. He left his horse in the stable and as he walked around the house, it was already growing darker.

Strolling by a window, he paused as he realised he was just outside the library. The room was lighted and shadows moved across the window. He approached and could clearly see Miss Tournier walking back and forth with a few books in one hand and a piece of paper in the other, apparently immersed in her work. An odd stabbing feeling caught him in his stomach — there she was, in his house, busily working, and he was outside in the dark watching her while she had no idea she was being observed. That was a poignant thought he did not wish to dwell on further, but it did drive him into the house and straight to the library after he had changed his clothes and given himself a few stern comments on his folly and the courtesy and reassurance he owed the lady downstairs.

H
OLLY LOOKED AROUND HER WITH
a bittersweet feeling. She and Hamish had methodically worked their way around the room for so long and now they were just ready to shelve the last book. She held it out to the boy, “I would be pleased if you would do the honour, sir.”

Hamish grinned and took the book from her. He struggled within himself for a moment, knowing that the honour should really be Miss Tournier’s, yet very pleased and proud that she would turn it over to him. He glanced up at her with a questioning look that competed with barely concealed pride and excitement. She smiled.

“Hamish, you have been a fine assistant. All of this is as much your accomplishment as it is mine; I could not have done it without you. Please . . . it will make me very happy indeed if you were to have the privilege of shelving this last book.”

Hamish thought he would do anything to make Miss Tournier happy. He looked around with the same mixed emotions as she was feeling. It had been very hard work, no doubt about that, but he had loved every minute of it — well . . . almost every minute. His lessons, his time with Miss Tournier and Lord Baugham, who both taught him by word and example how to be a better person. All these books . . .

Dashing away the tears that threatened to fall with the back of his hand, Hamish felt he was not ready to have it all end quite yet.

“Miss, do ye nae think his lairdship should be here for the last?”

“Oh, he is probably much too busy to come . . . ” Holly began, but when she saw the boy’s face fall, she relented. “But it doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Why don’t you go and knock on his study door and invite him?”

Hamish clutched the volume against his chest, nodded and walked carefully out of the library to gain admittance to his lordship’s study. He knocked on the door once with no answer and then boldly tried a little harder. There was still no answer. He looked down at the book against his chest and contemplated his options. This seemed to be a very important moment somehow and he wanted to be absolutely certain.

He made one last attempt at producing a knock that would have roused any peers sleeping behind the door, but still there was no sound. He sighed and admitted defeat. As he did so he heard soft footsteps in the hall behind him and, turning around, saw Riemann crossing the hall to mount the stairs. Now, Mr Riemann was an enigma to young Hamish. Besides being a quiet man — he did not think he had ever exchanged one word with him for all the time they had spent in the same house — he was obviously a foreigner and that was a fact that should put anyone on their guard these days. Especially one aspiring to be ready for any adventure and challenge to his bravery and the defence of the honour and security of the realm as Hamish was. But suspicious and mysterious men were always to be confronted bravely, he had learned, and so he raised his voice and asked the valet where his Master was.

“I believe his lordship has just come in,” was the quiet answer and there was no opportunity for further inquiry before he slipped away again.

Hamish was slightly taken aback by this intelligence, but he also had to reflect that that man was someone to watch with his strange, barely hidden accent and footsteps quiet enough for any villain. He turned around again and, as he headed back to the library, he could see the tall frame of Lord Baugham coming down the corridor.

Hamish shyly approached him, but not without some pride. His lordship turned around and smiled at him and, feeling much encouraged, Hamish held out the book he was still clutching.

“This is the last one, m’laird.”

S
HE WAS ALREADY PUTTING HER
things in order when he knocked on the door and caught her.

“Miss Tournier?” he said “Were you leaving? I have been out all day, but I am glad to have returned in time. I understand I have been invited to a ceremony of some importance! I must say I am honoured!”

Holly turned, surprised that he had come, “My lord! I didn’t expect to see you today. I assumed you would be busy with preparations.”

“Oh, I prepare to leave in quite different ways than my man does. And mostly as far away from him as possible.” He smiled politely, Holly smiled politely and the ensuing silence threatened to grow awkward. Again.

Baugham cleared his throat, “I hope you and Hamish have been adequately fed and attended to?”

She gave him a small but genuine smile. “Do you think we could be otherwise with Mrs McLaughlin in charge?”

They stood, looking at each other, looking at their feet, until an impatient sigh from Hamish caught their attention. Holly’s expression brightened a bit more as she remembered her purpose in inviting him to the library. She turned and gestured around the room.

“But have you not noticed, my lord? The piles are gone!”

Baugham looked around.

“And so they are!” he said and smiled. “Goodness, but if there isn’t almost an echo in here now! A temporary echo, I presume.”

He had his library back, just as he was leaving it behind. The shelves were obviously lacking in inventory and all the miscellaneous piles and bric-a-brac were cleared away, leaving them bare and strangely gaping, and his desk was still claimed by her correspondence, notes, papers and cards with no room for his own work but it certainly was a library —
his
library — again.
She was obviously and justifiably proud of her accomplishment and he made all the appropriate comments to that effect.

She returned his smile.

“Thank you, sir. Now, Master Nethery and I are preparing to place the final book into the final shelf of the final section; we have long felt that such an occasion should be treated with the respect and dignity it deserves. We would be honoured if you would join us.”

She nodded to Hamish who, with a very serious expression on his face, crossed the room holding the book out in front of him as if it were a sacred relic. He carefully and deliberately, with a bit of a dramatic flourish, slid it into its rightful place. He turned, grinning, and Holly beamed back at him, her face full of tenderness and pride.

“Thank you,” Baugham said softly as he watched the two of them. Turning to Hamish he shook the boy’s hand in an adult and dignified manner. “Excellent work, young man!” he said and clasped his shoulder. “I am very proud of you. I can think of no more appropriate additional award for your hard labour than a trip to the kitchen. Give my compliments to Mrs McLaughlin and she will see that you are well taken care of. Miss Tournier and I have the small matter of a bill to settle.”

Hamish thought Mrs McLaughlin’s pastries could very well fit into the celebratory nature of the occasion and happily took his leave. Baugham pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the writing desk and invited Miss Tournier to sit down.

“No my lord, you mistake me. There is still much to be done. I have only just begun the catalogue, my purchase list is not complete . . . please . . . there is much more to do before we settle the bill.”

“Ah, but this is my last opportunity to be able to do so in person. Please indulge me; any future compensation will have to be settled through my bankers.”

“I take it, then, you have no plans to return to Scotland soon?” She bit her lip in concentration. “I suppose once you get back to London, you will be quite busy with social obligations and . . . friends. I hope you will find the time to travel to Hertfordshire after all.”

Baugham shuffled through the piles looking for a blank sheet of paper.

“Yes well,” he said slowly while he searched again for a quill, “Hertfordshire is quite settled. It all depends on Mr Darcy, of course; I have placed myself at his mercy and pleasure, but I suppose I shall not be obliged to dash out into the country again immediately upon my arrival in London. At least I should hope not.”

He prodded the tip of the quill with his fingertip and handed the equipment over to his librarian. “There! Go on, make your demands and don’t be gentle!” but she was looking back at him with something like disapproval.

“What?” he found himself reacting impulsively. “Have I not expressed adequate enthusiasm over my friend’s upcoming marriage? Very well, I hope he will be very happy and I am sure he will be, but I am not overly thrilled at the thought of spending time at another country house in another quaint country village in the anticipation of the event. And so I hope to go down later rather than sooner.” He gestured to the paper on the desk, “Now, if you would be so kind . . . ”

Holly stared at the quill in her hand. What was she supposed to do with this?

“You mean you have given no thought to what this job is worth? You wish
me
to make that determination? I am sorry, but I think that is for you to decide. I fear it is too much responsibility for a simple
country
girl like me.”

Baugham gave a little snort. “My dear Miss Tournier, please do not tell me a woman like you is not aware of exactly how much an hour of her work is worth!”