Twixt Two Equal Armies (72 page)

“Mama . . . ” she said. “Maria . . . ”

“Yes, yes,” her mother said impatiently.

The party gathered in the hall to don their outer clothing while Mrs Bennet could not let go of the thought that she was sending her daughters out to catch a dreadful cold and ruin the best day of her life in advance with worry. She fussed around them and whereas Jane let her tuck an extra scarf around her and send for a muff from Mrs Hill, Elizabeth ignored her and very quickly threw on her clothes.

“A tree house, you say? You, my dear, are entirely too sly for your own good,” Mr Darcy told his bride-to-be as he ushered her out of the door.

“You, sir, do not know the half of it,” Elizabeth smiled sweetly and cast a glance at her cousin as his lordship caught up with them.

M
R
B
ENNET WATCHED THE BROOD
of youngsters shuffle out of the parlour and listened to the noise grow fainter as they moved towards and out the door. His sister seemed to be oblivious to the commotion and only lifted her head when quiet once more returned to the room. Mrs Bennet could not hide her displeasure at being left with three people balancing reading material on their knees for companionship and she opened her mouth to complain.

“Did I tell you I acquired Mr Hume’s first edition lately?” Mr Bennet intercepted her, addressing his sister while still looking down at his newspaper.

“I don’t believe you did, no,” Mrs Tournier said and turned the leaf of the letter she had been reading.

Wordlessly the two siblings rose and removed themselves to Mr Bennet’s library. Mrs Bennet watched them as they moved past her chair.

“But dinner!” she exclaimed. “You mustn’t forget! It’s venison stew! And fish, too!” Her protestations died out and she threw a glance at the only remaining person beside herself in the room.

Mary Bennet straightened her back and returned her mother’s look. “I think we must be thankful for what little reflective solitude is allotted us at such a time,” she said. “The gravity and solemnity of the upcoming events, I fear, is in grave danger of being overshadowed and cheapened by all this merriment and superficial socialising, which can only result in . . . ”

Mrs Bennet shuffled in her chair and sighed after silencing her daughter with an exasperated look.

“They will be back for dinner,” she muttered a little sourly until she realised the thought, indeed, did give her some comfort in her now so empty parlour. “They will
all
be back for dinner.”

I
T WAS A LIVELY AND
talkative group that made its way down the lanes — losing the youngest Miss Bennet on the way to her friend at Lucas Lodge — through the hedgerows, beyond the village, passing by the willows shadowing the little stream with their empty branches behind the green and through Farmer Wilson’s pastures until they came to the woods and the remnants of the tree house.

Holly was still mortified that her confession had caused her mother to so thoroughly take Lord Baugham to task over his behaviour, and even though she had to admit to some measure of satisfaction in the knowledge that he was experiencing
some
suffering on that account, she could not help but feel sorry for him, especially on seeing how very carefully, even solicitously, he was now acting in her company.

Lord Baugham, meanwhile, found himself exceedingly thankful that the group had not paired off as he had feared it might. More often than not, Miss Tournier was helped over rough patches or steered around muddy spots by Mr Darcy or Mr Bingley, while he was called upon to render the same service to one or the other of the Miss Bennets. A good thing that, he reflected, since she tended to flinch as if burned whenever it fell to him to perform the duty and he could not in all honesty say he was completely reconciled to his exchange yesterday with Mrs Tournier. At the same time, his dissatisfaction with her refusal to answer his question caused a growing feeling of urgency to build within him. He could not spend so much time in her company and remain in doubt. Something had to happen. He had to do something.

At last they stood before the dilapidated structure and Lord Baugham’s thoughts gave way again.

“It looks so small, Eliza. I remember it being so much bigger.”

“Oh, it was Holly. Don’t you remember? It was as big as the whole world!”

Holly smiled as she reached out to tug on the boards, still nailed crossways onto the trunk. “I remember. We could see all the way to America from up there, couldn’t we? And Paris and India.” After testing all the boards, she turned a sly look upon her cousin.

“No, no Holly! Don’t you dare challenge me! I am practically a married woman, much too dignified and respectable for such antics.”

“Well, one of us will have to do it, for old time’s sake. And you have an able assistant, who I am certain would not object to raising you up a few feet if you are feeling faint of heart.”

“Faint of heart! Very good, Holly! You do know just how to tempt me, but I am determined neither to undermine my dignity in the eyes of my betrothed, since it is as very fragile as it is, nor am I to be gauged so easily!”

But Elizabeth’s smile could not be suppressed, nor the twinkle in her eye when she fixed her gaze on Holly and issued her own challenge.

“Go!”

A big grin spread across Holly’s face, “I will!”

Before the squeals of disbelief could even properly issue forth from Elizabeth and Jane, or the exclamations to not be foolish and to take care could be uttered by the gentlemen, Holly had scrambled up the ladder and was standing on the platform. Elizabeth rushed up behind her and peered up through the branches, laughing.

Holly smiled as she shielded her eyes from the sun and exclaimed at the exotic sights that were still visible from the heights, but in reality, she felt a little sad inside — for really it was only treetops and nearby farms, and she wished she had not climbed up after all.

“Miss Tournier, please! You must come down now before you hurt yourself,” a stern male voice commanded. She looked down and saw five pairs of eyes, in varying degrees of delight, concern and consternation looking back up at her, so she consented and allowed herself to be helped down by three pairs of hands. Feeling a bit ridiculous, she nevertheless said brightly, “Well. Now that that foolishness is over, shall we head back?”

The walk back saw the groupings revert to the more traditional pairings, with each couple moving along at its own pace, and Lord Baugham found himself accompanying Miss Tournier back to Longbourn. He could not forget the sight of her, eyes bright, scrambling up that ladder. He could have kicked Darcy in the shins for interfering in what so obviously was a treat for her although, of course, it was quite silly to be climbing up like that on the spur of the moment. Nevertheless, she had looked exhilarated and at no point had he seen any danger in the escapade.

“You must have some very fond memories of your childhood, Miss Tournier. You are very lucky in that.”

She turned to him, with a slight frown. “A few, yes. Most of them shared with my cousin. And most of them better left to the past, it would seem.”

“Not at all,” Baugham said softly. “It was quite charming.”

She said nothing, but an unwillingness to let an uncomfortable and possibly unbreakable silence descend upon them made him try again.

“You must be happy to be able to spend time with your cousin again, before the wedding. With both of them. And I suppose be able to talk. About things.”

“It is nice. However, with the wedding rapidly approaching, I am understandably more often called upon by the brides to listen rather than talk.” Holly looked back for those brides, and to her dismay, neither couple were anywhere to be seen. Had they taken a wrong turn?

“Yes,” he said, “I suppose that is true. But I daresay your cousins will have the opportunity to return the favour. At . . . uh . . . some point,” he added awkwardly. “Sooner or later, I mean.”

“I daresay they will, at some point,” she replied without emotion, still arching her neck to find any trace of them and not really paying attention to his words. “Sooner or later.”

Baugham cleared his throat in an effort to transfer her attentions but to no avail.

“Right. Yes.”

“I cannot see them anywhere. Do you see where they might have gone?”

Baugham looked around the winding wooded path through to the fields. He shrugged.

“I think they are probably taking all the enjoyment out of a solitary walk as they can and rather feeling cold weather is to their advantage. Do you wish to wait for them?”

Holly looked back still trying to spy either of the two couples, but it seemed Lord Baugham was right. Elizabeth and Mr Darcy and Jane and Mr Bingley were more than happy lingering in the shelter of the woods. She hesitated.

“Nothing at all to fear, Miss Tournier. If we are too long missed, I have no doubt that your cousin will come out on an anxious search for you.” He smiled. “Much like the search you went on, that night when we found her and Mr Darcy walking together. Remember? Though . . . ” He grimaced, realising his mistake too late, “of course, the outcome . . . will not . . . I mean . . . ” He gave up. “Miss Elizabeth appears quite happy. As does Darcy, of course.”

She was too busy scanning the horizon for any sign of her cousins, and no doubt wishing herself anywhere but where she was, to reply. When it was obvious they were not to be found, she smiled briefly and set off toward Longbourn. Baugham followed, stupidly thinking that if he kept talking, at some point he would say something that would pull him out of the hole he was digging for himself. Unfortunately, his next comment was not that something.

“If a man as resolute as Darcy can succumb to its siren song, it makes one quite wonder about just how far-reaching the powers of romance might be,” he said.

Holly’s eyes shot to his face.

“The powers of romance?” she said, more sharply than he expected. “It’s a pretty idea, my lord, but one more fit for fairy tales . . . and other people!”

Perversely enough, Baugham felt his heart swell at her confessed lack of interest in romance, but he was interrupted from pursuing the subject by Miss Tournier looking down at her feet and sighing, “Oh, dear . . . ”

Lord Baugham looked to where her eyes were directed and noticed they had walked right into a sea of mud stretching all around the area of a turnstile by the fence by the edge of the wood. He lifted his feet tentatively and smiled wryly at the noise every child delighted in and every valet dreaded.

“Perhaps more people know about that tree house after all,” he smiled.

Miss Tournier did not look as amused as he did, for her boots were wholly immersed in mud and filth and there was no saving her skirts from being soiled either. She shifted on her feet, clearly looking for an escape.

“Perhaps we can flee this by retracting our steps a little,” he said and moved sideways slightly.

To his great surprise, Miss Tournier simply looked at him with a frown and did not move.

“Your plan is a good one except for the fact that I seem to be stuck.”

She moved her skirts aside, determining that she had sunk up to her ankles in thick, sticky mud. She pulled up with her right foot but only succeeded in raising it an inch or two against the strong suction before nearly losing her balance. Lord Baugham reached out to steady her then withdrew his hands again as quickly as possible.

She huffed in frustration and with hands on hips, looked around for something, anything, that might give her an idea for getting out of this predicament, but no remedy presented itself.

Baugham played with the idea of either placing his hands around her waist and lifting her up, or of extending the end of his walking stick for her to grab and then to pull her out, but both seemed inappropriate. He therefore finally reached out his gloved hand to her and said, “Here. Let’s see if I can pull us out of this.”

With no other alternative presenting itself, she reached out and took his hand. He tugged at her arm while she tried to lift her foot.

After a long time, being pulled so hard that she felt like her arm would come out of its socket, her foot suddenly broke free. Unfortunately this only caused her other foot to slip in the mud and she lost her balance again, nearly tumbling headlong into his lordship. She could not help but nervously laugh at his obvious confusion and discomfort as he tried to set her aright without actually touching her. Once she was steady again, she reached out both her hands, “Maybe we should try it this way.”

He looked down at her as he heard her laugh. It was incredible how the sound lifted a weight off his mind and how the sun seemed to break out from behind all those heavy, grey and forbidding clouds that had hung over and between them.

She should laugh more,
he found himself thinking.
If only she would laugh more. If she had laughed more, maybe . . .

Slowly he reached out his two hands to meet hers and he could feel his face break out into a relieved smile.

“Yes,” he said, “that is a very good and practical idea. Just the thing, in fact.”

She put her hands into his and allowed him to slowly pull her, one step at a time, across the muddy crossroads. Most of her attention was focused downward, keeping her feet from slipping, and the rest of it was concerned with keeping her skirts untrodden and muddying them up worse than they already were.