Twixt Two Equal Armies (45 page)

He curled his mouth into a wry smile and watched her smooth out her skirts.

“Actually, Miss Tournier, I would.”

He motioned to his own shoulder with a wiping gesture and watched, amused, as she first looked at him in surprise but then realised his hint. Her eyes then shifted to the dust on her dress and with a small “oh!” she furiously rubbed it with her hand, a most becoming blush spreading over her features.

“Allow me,” he said and handed her his handkerchief.

Holly did her best to brush off her dress, suddenly struck by another thought, which produced several sideways glances about the room in order to check for any nearby mirror. No, there were none that would not take acrobatic skill to reach. So she did the only thing she could. Summoning up her sense of humour she addressed his lordship gravely, “Might I ask you to assure me of the fact that my face, most particularly my nose, is free from smudges?”

He raised his left eyebrow just a smidgen and obviously had great difficulty matching her seriousness. Something tugged at the corners of his mouth and he pressed his lips together to control it, instantly giving him an air of gravity.

“Certainly!”

He sent a quick glace towards Hamish, who had quietly ploughed his way through to where Captain Bob was waiting for him, then navigated a bit closer. With one pile of books between them, he leaned in and, narrowing his eyes, studied her face for quite a while, lingering particularly and most tenaciously over her chin, nose and forehead.

Holly gave him a stern look, not quite appreciating the theatrics as much as he was enjoying them, but determined to keep her countenance.

“Hm,” he said and held out his hand for his handkerchief. He crumpled it together and carefully reached out to wipe her left temple, contriving to keep his expression perfectly serious, but when he detected a slight flinch as he touched her face, he broke out in a wide grin and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

“There. I believe you are perfectly presentable to have tea with Hamish and me now!”

Handing her the handkerchief once again, he made his way back through the maze of books and opened the door for Mrs McLaughlin.

Holly wiped her hands and, not knowing what else to do, folded the square neatly and placed it on top of the
Natural History
pile. Then, lifting her skirts in order to navigate successfully across the room, she set out to clear the papers, pencils and notes from the table so Mrs McLaughlin might set the tray down.

She picked up a stack of books from one of the chairs and looked around for a place to set them that she could reach, that she would remember, and that would not disrupt her system of organisation. After a moment she spied an empty spot of floor, but with her hands full she could not get to it.

“Lord Baugham, take these books over there please. Right by the
Astronomy
pile. And then this pile here,” pointing to the other chair, “will have to go next to
Foreign Travels
. Mrs McLaughlin, you can put the tray right here.”

“The Laird preserve us!” cried the housekeeper as she navigated through the room with her burden. She set the tray down on the designated spot and stood with her hands on her hips and a dark frown on her face. It was perfectly obvious she was horrified at the scene before her eyes.

“The Laird preserve us!” she could only utter for a second time, adding a shaking head. Baugham smiled broadly. “Don’t worry, Mrs McLaughlin. I have a strong suspicion Miss Tournier is in full control of events. And it looks like they’re doing the dusting, too, so don’t you fret!”

Holly was already sitting down and ready to pour out before she realised she had just ordered Lord Baugham around like he was one of her students. And what’s more, he had done exactly as he was told, with a meek look and without uttering a word. Had she been able to see his eyes, she would have perhaps noted that they had lost none of their sparkle, that he was biting his lip most determinedly and that his shoulders shook slightly as he complied.

Looking around for a place to sit, Baugham opted for the armrest of the sofa, since there was no other space left on it — apparently it had been designated as a harbour for
Poetry and Verse
according to the note sticking up behind the cushions. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the tea to be poured. Then he caught a glimpse of Hamish, shyly waiting with his hands grasping the book behind his back.

“Have you got as far as the Cape yet, Hamish? What an adventure, eh? I think it would be a good idea to try to find Crusoe and the Military Memoirs, too, in this mess before they’re safely stowed away in a Brave New Order of Things.”

“Hamish,” Holly retorted, “would you kindly inform Lord Baugham of the distinct possibility that until Mr Crusoe is safely stowed in our Brave New Order of Things or anything else than this awful mess, he is likely to remain marooned and alone for eternity? As for Military Memoirs, I ask, what military man worth his training would be satisfied to remain in such disarray?”

Since Hamish obviously did not care to relay the information to Lord Baugham or hazard an answer to her question, Holly smiled, handed him his cup and plate and nodded her permission for him to go off and read.

Pouring for his lordship next, she asked, “So, how
do
you like the jumble we’ve made of your lovely room?”

He took the cup from her hands and smiled.

“I like it prodigiously! Very refreshing. And exciting. Although I still worry that you have taken too much upon yourself. It looks . . . well, right now it looks daunting. But I must admit you are doing me a great service.”

“Oh, it
is
daunting, and overwhelming, and exciting!” Holly’s eyes sparkled as she spoke, then her face grew softer.

“But I am finding it curiously peaceful too. To take one small piece of the world, even as small as these few shelves that are sitting empty right now, and bring it from disorder into harmony . . . To make sense out of the confusion . . . ” she smiled, feeling a bit foolish at her Romantic notions. “As you can tell, I perhaps have been looking too much at poetry books today.”

“Mm,” he looked at her thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is the key. To make sense of the confusion little by little. The temptation is to think one must take it all on at once, isn’t it? One could say my fault has been a misunderstanding of that notion; trying to attack too large a piece at once it leads rather to inaction instead. I have not always been the most diligent servant to my family’s memory and legacy, but this certainly goes some way to what I owe them.”

His words reminded her of what he had earlier told her of his father, and she felt she must say something to him.

“My lord, forgive me if I am overstepping my place, but you must know that a proud name and heritage cannot be erased by the actions of just one person. To do such a thing takes the cooperation of several generations. I cannot imagine that
you
would wish to be cooperative in such an undertaking.”

He smiled wryly. “I thank you for your concern, but there really is no need for it. I am very happy in my more than privileged life and not such a dour figure at all. You are very right in your assessment, of course. Still, perhaps if you had lived in that world . . . ” He hesitated but then put down his teacup and turned around to browse through the volumes on the sofa.

“
What’s gone and what’s past help, should be past grief
,” he said a little wistfully. “That is very true and I believe it.

“I don’t know,” Holly sighed. “It seems there are some things — or people — that when they are gone, are never past grief. However, as I am discovering, we must
can
the little piece of life we are given and try to make sense of it as best we can.” She looked up at him. “What else is there for us to do?”

He still did not fully meet her eyes and seemed preoccupied with the poetry volumes. It was impossible to read from his face what he was thinking and as he put down the books and once more raised his teacup to his lips, his eyes had clouded over and were fixed on his boots.

“I think you must be right. Some things are worth our grief, and some are not. I should think your father . . . he would have been worth much — if you will forgive me for being presumptuous. I think he would have been very proud of you. But all the same, he would not wish you grief, but happiness.”

Holly smiled wistfully. “Oh he was always very proud of me, in all of my childish accomplishments. And no, he would not wish me to grieve, and truly I do not all of the time . . . but it is something I will always carry very near, and it meets me in the most surprising places. I don’t know why, suddenly, he is so much on my mind.”

He looked down, momentarily at a loss for words, but he realised that she was not really expecting a response, so he glanced around him and smiled.

“Quite a metaphor in action, don’t you find? Demolish to rebuild?”

Trying to shake off the melancholy mood that had descended upon the library, she looked around and gestured to her handiwork, “I don’t know that I like that term — ‘demolish’ — I prefer to think that I am jarring them out of their complacency and satisfaction with their merely tolerable existence and introducing them to their best destiny as . . . ” she raised her teacup in salute, “a proper library!”

The smile was back in his eyes. He met her toast and watched her quietly for a moment.

“I have every confidence that you will do just that, and I am truly most grateful that you accepted this assignment. I wish . . . Miss Tournier, I am hoping you will treat this library, and Clyne, to freely come and go as it suits you. As strange and even unsettling as this room now appears, I am happy you are here. What Mr Darcy would say if he ever returned, I know not!” he laughed. “You might be called upon to defend me against his censure and disapproval at having his favourite chair thus occupied by . . . ” he lifted a volume, “ . . . Mr David Hume no less!”

He looked at Hamish still absorbed in his book before he turned back to her.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I will leave you to your work.”

“Of course. I will finish sorting through this last pile and then I must be going. I should be able to return soon however, perhaps tomorrow.”

With that Holly recalled Hamish from his adventures around the Cape and they resumed their positions on the floor. Lord Baugham took a last look at the tranquil pair working quietly in the midst of the turmoil that was his library, he bid them a good afternoon and returned to his study.

The shadows were lengthening by the time Holly tapped lightly on the study door. When his lordship looked up, she quietly said, “I have left Hamish with his book for now. Would you please fetch him in half an hour and send him off? It would not do for him to be late in arriving home.” They both smiled at the image of a boy so engrossed in his reading he would miss supper and risk disapproval to just get through one more chapter. They quietly bid each other a good night and, wrapped in her shawl and bonnet against the cold, Holly walked home toward Rosefarm Cottage and her waiting supper.

H
AMISH WAS JUST RELUCTANTLY DEPOSITING
the dashing Captain Bob on the shelf again. He sighed and let his hand rest on the cover a moment before he turned around to find his lordship smilingly watching him from the doorway.

“Well, Hamish,” he said in a gentle voice, “I think that’s quite enough work and excitement for one day. I am sure you will continue the adventures when you go to bed. Perhaps even challenge a few savages while you make your way home to Nethery. And you know there is more where Captain Bob came from next time.”

Hamish smiled shyly and nodded.

“I suspect you enjoyed yourself,” Baugham said. “I am glad. And your supervisor was not so bad, am I right?”

Hamish looked at his lordship, this time boldly in the face. It was hard to tell in the growing shadows of the library, but he did feel his lordship might have been teasing him. He still decided he should speak his mind.

“Well, I did, sir. Very much. But I think . . . If ye pardon me, sir, I feel ye are wrong about Miss Tournier. She is very kind and I could nae say that she was in any particular mood at all, sir, however clumsy and stupid I surely was about many things.”

His benefactor was quiet and Hamish began to feel he had perhaps been too bold. But he surely felt this honest and brave stand was what Captain Bob would have done, so he decided to suffer any consequences.

“Yes,” Lord Baugham finally said in a kind voice, “you are quite right. She is a remarkable woman, is she not? I certainly think so. But I tell you this Hamish, remarkable women are often hard to make out. That is what makes one remark them, after all. Now, you must hop along if you mean to be back here tomorrow, as I suspect you do.”

After Hamish left, Baugham closed the door behind him and walked back to his library. It was growing dark, but the darkness suited his thoughts. In reality he wanted to take in the chaos that reigned in the room without being obligated to present either a stoic and confident appearance, or being forced to respect the on-going work by keeping his hands off his own books.