Twixt Two Equal Armies (59 page)

Oh dear, Mr Bennet is checking his watch incessantly and has taken away my second sheet of paper so I must conclude. It is no shame, however, since we will be seeing you soon enough and there is so much to do to prepare for the weddings and the guests. I don’t complain, but we are always in uproars here lately, when I so much prefer to live a calm and simple life. The gentlemen are coming to dine tonight, as they do every night. Oh . . . and you must find out his lordship’s favourite foods and send word of them as soon as possible, I would not wish to be caught unprepared once he arrives!

Your affectionate sister Bennet.

T
HE DAYS PASSED, BUT HIS
lordship was still unable to concentrate on the documents and ledgers before him. He ought to go down to Cumbermere and let his steward explain the meticulous entries himself, or at least he should go to London where he might effectually forget about their existence. Instead, he slid down in his chair in his study and was miles away in his thoughts from any duties connected with the books in front of him. Suddenly, as he was sharpening his quills, his feet leisurely resting on the desk, and having no intention of putting them down for a long time or using those sharpened and trimmed quills for anything resembling work, he was startled by a loud crashing noise coming from the library, accompanied by shouts. He stood up instantly, his first reaction being that the roof had surely caved in. He strode to the door and approached the library while other possibilities presented themselves — some of them more, some of them less alarming.

As he opened the door he could, to his great relief, note that at least the roof was intact and that no loss to human life or limb seemed to be the case. Miss Tournier was kneeling over what looked like books flung over the floor in a haphazard manner and with some of the pages flown away and the bindings broken.

“Miss Tournier,” he asked, “are you quite alright?”

In a voice laced with frustration Holly answered, “Oh, I am fine, perfectly fine. Just incredibly ridiculous!” She lifted her face up. “This is what I get for trying to hurry through my work. And I am sorry to say that a few of your books have paid the price as well.”

He bowed down and picked up some stray pages that had scattered across the room.

“Hmm. Virgil,” he said while he looked through them. “And a volume that brings back unimaginable Latin translatory horrors under the auspices of Mr Grimsby. Please, Miss Tournier, think nothing of it. You have fulfilled the hidden but violent ambitions of a fifteen-year-old schoolboy.”

Trying not to look as upset as she felt, she crossed the room to retrieve the pages around his feet and held her hand out for those he held. She then sat down and hurriedly stuffed them back into the broken bindings.

“I will take care of this . . . I am sure that the bookseller in Edinburgh can repair them . . . ” she sighed. “Stupid . . . so clumsy . . . ”

He watched her return to the desk and helplessly sort through the pages. He was silent for a while as he heard her sigh and then absentmindedly spied another page lying behind a chair and went to pick it up.

“Oh, I think not,” he said as he fingered part of the Aeneid. “
‘At regina graui iamdudum saucia cura uulnus alit uenis et caeco carpitur igni
’, indeed. In fact, this particular volume is surely not worth the effort. I think you will find that the bookseller would agree with me, that the newly edited compilation by that clever fellow Finney — a Cambridge man, by the way, so it would not do to doubt his reputation — is vastly superior both in print and form to this old cheap thing. I think you would also find he would refuse to restore this one for me and would give you a very good price for the new one, which is exactly what I wish you to do. Please add a new edition to your purchasing suggestions, if you would be so kind. When you get as far as that, of course.”

Holly’s mind was so taken up by his first words that she did not comprehend the end of his speech for several moments. Due to her parents’ unorthodox views of equality and the importance of female education, Holly had received instruction in many areas that were considered most unusual for a female — Latin being one of them.

She cursed the perversity of chance that Lord Baugham should randomly pick a page from Book IV as her mind automatically translated the lines he read:

But anxious cares already seiz’d the queen:
She fed within her veins a flame unseen

And then supplied the lines that followed:

The hero’s valor, acts, and birth inspire
Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.
His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,
Improve the passion, and increase the smart.

“
U
NHAPPY
D
IDO BURNS . .
. ” she quietly said to herself before looking up again, irrationally wondering if he picked those lines purposely and what he might have meant by it.

He was looking at her expectantly, but not with any meaning other than that he was apparently waiting for her to speak — grasping on to what little she heard of his latest words she attempted a reply.

“Finney from Cambridge . . . yes, certainly. I should order one then?”

“Yes, please do,” he smiled, apparently relieved that she answered. “I don’t know the man myself — he was before my time — but I believe no library should be without one. Whatever earlier editions might have done to destroy the appetite for poetry of the owners.”

He looked around the room.

“It is coming along nicely, I see,” he said. “Soon perhaps one might start referring to this as a collection again.”

When she had arrived in the morning, Holly had every intention of relaying the invitation from her mother for him to come for tea, but a few dropped volumes and some lines of Latin convinced her that she was not up to it. She cursed herself for being so stupid. She was going to have to learn to come to terms with this sooner or later . . .
She must get past it!

Gathering her courage she turned to him, ready to extend the invitation, “My lord . . . ”

Baugham half-turned towards her and let a lazy smile creep over his eyes and lips.

“Oh, you are quite right, of course. A collection of miscellaneous whims and fancies is probably all it will ever amount to. But I will follow your recommendations, if you care to make any, as to how best to make it a
good
collection of whims and fancies.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. He either was not listening to her, or had decided he already knew what she was thinking or what she would say.

Presumptuous!
she thought, but she had to admit that it felt better to be angry at him than to be so tentative and unsure as she had been lately.

“As I was beginning to tell you . . . I must leave here early today. Maman is suffering from a cold, but she has instructed me to invite you to tea.”

The way he lit up at the simple invitation was almost pathetic. However much she tried to hold on to that brief flash of anger, it nevertheless touched her to see his obvious insecurity and delight and she found herself smiling back.

“It would be my pleasure!” his lordship said. “Thank you! I . . . Tomorrow then? I just received a parcel of newspapers from London. Perhaps your mother would enjoy them?”

Holly heard herself give a little laugh. “Oh, by all means! In fact, I would be grateful if you did bring them, for, I confess, I should be very much relieved if something else was able to entertain her a little besides my own person and faults.”

He grinned. “Well, persons and faults are to be found in abundance in our esteemed press! I should be happy to be of some small service.”

There was a small pause where they found themselves foolishly grinning at one another, at loss of what to say next, but rather relieved that there had at least been something. Then Holly could stand the silence no more and reached for her notebook on the table.

“Finney,” she said, turning around and leaning over it.

Baugham watched her leaf through the pages until she found the place she was looking for.

“By all means,” he said. “Finney. And tea tomorrow?”

“By all means,” Holly said still with her back turned and was grateful he could not see how she winced at her own stupidity. But had she seen him she would have known he did not think her ridiculous. His quiet smile, however, might not have made her any more comfortable and so it was a good thing she briskly gathered up her things.

“Well, I sent Hamish home ages ago,” she said and looked around for her bonnet and gloves. “I should go, too. Until tomorrow then.”

Lord Baugham merely smiled when she hastily let herself out of the door, but when she was safely out of earshot he once again smiled and muttered, “By all means.”

Then he laughed.

Chapter 26

How Despite the Cold Season People Change Abode and Grow Busy

Unbeknownst to Holly, Dr McKenna had arrived in Clanough late the previous evening, tired and cramped from the day long ride in the post chaise. His bags and cases were taken down and he acquired a room at the Caledonian Thistle Inn for an indeterminate length of time. He took a late meal and then settled into his comfortable accommodations to reflect over his next step. Not an ambitious man by nature, and with no need to make his fortune or any mark on the world, McKenna had never gone farther than vague plans to publish his research — someday. But there he was, in a small room in a small village, all the time in the world with only his manuscript and notes for company . . . and plans to meet his illustrator the following day.

He smiled in anticipation of that meeting, made plans to dispatch a note to Mrs Tournier first thing in the morning and to visit as soon as was convenient after that. So it was that as Holly was walking home from Clyne Cottage after relaying her mother’s invitation and need of diversion from her illness to Lord Baugham, Dr McKenna was even then filling that very office in the Rosefarm parlour.

T
HOUGHTFULLY TUGGING
at her bonnet strings, she backed into the door to close it. It had been a slow walk home, perhaps even slower than she had intended. She had taken a detour and walked by the great elm by the crossing where Elizabeth had run when she had first seen Mr Darcy after church and where they had met up and talked
.
Now all her doubts of him, his character and intentions must be completely swept away. Holly could never imagine her cousin marrying without being completely convinced of a mutual affection and worthiness, so it must be true. Elizabeth was going to marry her Mr Darcy. “
And live happily ever after
,” Holly mouthed and sighed, smiling wistfully.

She stayed by the elm for a while. It felt good to rest a little just in between Clyne Cottage and Rosefarm Cottage and she felt closer to her cousin here, out in the fresh air. “A little too fresh perhaps,” she muttered after a while and wrapped her cloak around her before heading home. She was still lost in her thoughts about Elizabeth and her future as Mrs Darcy when she pulled off her bonnet in the darkened hallway at home and groped around for the peg to hang it on. Suddenly her foot bumped into something black and large on the floor in front of her. It looked like several large, black boxes lined up on their side.

“What on earth . . . ?”

She was just about to bend down to take a closer look when her mother appeared from the small dining room.

“Ah, there you are, Lie-lie!” she said. “Where have you been? Tea’s long gone by now. Again.”

“Maman,” Holly ignored her mother, “what in the world are these?”

“Rock samples,” her mother said, as if nothing could be more natural.

“Rock samples?”

“My dear, you are being repetitious and dull. It will not do. You must try to appear industrious and clever.”

Finally Holly looked up to see her mother’s face. Mrs Tournier looked very well, with not a hint of her former complaints although her cheeks were perhaps a little flushed and her eyes slightly more shiny than usual.

“Well, don’t look at me like that,” she said. “It’s all your doing. Your friend brought them!”

“My friend?”

Her mother gave her an exasperated look. “Come in by the fire, dear. Maybe that will make your brain thaw a little and you can assume some of your usual vitality. Dr McKenna has come all the way from Edinburgh to see us!”

Dr McKenna sprang out of his seat by the table as Holly came in. He lit up at the sight of her and Holly could not but wonder if her mother had been pressing him for more commissions or extracting promises from him that he was ill-equipped to make, since she sensed such obvious relief in him at her entrance.

“Miss Tournier!” he said and came forth to meet her. “You must excuse my impulsivity! I know I should have given you notice of my coming, but I was much too eager to be on my way. I only arrived last night.”

“Last night?” Holly asked, puzzled. “Oh, but it very good to see you again, of course! If, I must say, a little strange to see that my mother has offered you a seat in our dining room.”