by Gail McEwen
“She did.”
Baugham sighed and seemed finally to have settled on a choice. Darcy threw one last glance at himself in the mirror beside his friend before he picked up his hat and gloves. Yes, people would stare. They always did. But in this case, attention and gossip might just be a good thing.
“Are we to visit all the local congregations in the name of moral duty? Shall we go up north to the Catholic church next week?” Baugham asked his friend as he considered his old hymnbook.
“‘One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all’,” Darcy said and strode out ahead of him. “It is a fine day. Let us walk.”
“True enough, I suppose,” his lordship muttered and followed him out, “but if the trout don’t bite tomorrow, I am holding you responsible.”
The walk was accomplished in silence, interrupted periodically by his lordship’s sighs, which gradually grew into laments about the waste of fine fishing weather.
“You know, Darcy,” he said. “It is entirely possible to bask in the presence of our Creator while also taking pleasure in His handiwork. It isn’t too late — oh, apparently it is. I see that we are here.”
BAUGHAM DID HIS BEST NOT to fidget under the stern glare of his friend, but it was difficult to sit still when he could feel the eyes of the entire congregation directed at them. Church attendance was not conducive to his plans to remain separate and aloof from the local populace and he could hardly understand how he had let himself be talked into coming. While he tried his best to find a comfortable position, the voice of the reverend droned on, seemingly endlessly.
Sneaking a sidelong look, Baugham was gratified to see that Darcy himself was not paying the strictest attention to the discourse, but appeared to be surreptitiously surveying the gathered worshippers. Smiling slyly, he leaned in and whispered to his friend, “Eyes forward, son. It wouldn’t do to offend the locals.”
Darcy glared but turned his attention to the sermon. His lordship had just settled into a deep spiritual and not so spiritual contemplation on how church pews contributed to the Christian experience when he was startled by Darcy sitting up abruptly beside him.
“Amen,” he said in a terse voice. Thus ended the service. Hardly had the reverend closed his book of discourses before Baugham felt Darcy nudge him hastily with his elbow.
“It is over,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He groaned and awkwardly slipped his tall frame out of the ancient seats wondering at Darcy’s apparent eagerness to exit the building before anyone else. He stretched his legs carefully as he replaced his hat and slipped on his gloves. The small church was warm by now, although the service had been short and to the point. As a result, Baugham felt kindly towards the northern form of reformed faith and even had a smile for the curious who now could take a closer look at them.
His friend was already pressing resolutely towards the exit. Indeed, Baugham thought his haste and near rudeness as he pushed himself past the crowds a little funny, since he was the one who had insisted they would come and so eloquently had persuaded him to desert his trout.
Finally he caught up with him, but only because he was standing still and letting his gaze sweep over the departing congregation on the immediate outside of the building.
“Look no further,” Baugham said as he reached him. “Here I am. I must say I was — ”
But he got no further before Darcy interrupted him without ever having given him a glance.
“Miss Bennet!” he said in a loud, clear voice.
Several people turned and looked, but one young woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him.
“Mr Darcy!” she said in an astonished voice.
And that was it. That was the extent of the conversation. Baugham looked at his friend, then at the object of his unwavering attention; a slight young woman with fine eyes staring straight back at him, and ultimately at her darker friend, who was possessively holding onto her arm and narrowing her eyes at the silent, but resonant, scene. The way she held her head high, giving Darcy openly hostile looks and squaring her jaw told Baugham her determination hid a considerable temper. It did lend spirit to her otherwise stern countenance, though, he admitted, and had she not been an obvious prickly one, she might even have been considered handsome in a fiery, Gallic way.
A slow grin spread across his face as realisation took hold of him and various curious details in his friend’s behaviour over the past week were explained.
“Aha!” said Lord Baugham and his face broke out into a brilliant smile.
Chapter 5
In which Mr Darcy’s First Ambition is finally Realised and Reactions thereto are Varied
Allow me to introduce myself!” his lordship said as the silent scene before him in the churchyard threatened to slip into embarrassment. “My name is Lord Baugham. And you must be Miss Tournier?”
The darker young woman turned her eyes on him and Baugham almost took a step back at the strong, unbridled resentment in them.
Holly recognised the name of the effectively absentee Clyne estate owner and she grew defensive immediately. From the moment she had heard, several years earlier, that an impoverished Sir Donald Clyne had sold his lands at a bargain price to an English peer who had apparently made the purchase on a whim of fancy, she had formed an early and strong dislike toward that peer, whoever he might be. What right did a stranger have to swoop in and gobble up the local land, especially such a beautiful and treasured place as Clyne? Combine this with the fact that he was now here with the man who had caused Elizabeth so much pain, both looking far too grand to grace a sermon at an obscure country church, and Holly found it nearly impossible to be civil.
Ignoring his look of puzzlement, she then turned to her cousin and tried to catch her attention away from this Mr Darcy who had so unexpectedly appeared. Darcy’s friend, however, apparently had different ideas, for he immediately engaged her in inane conversation.
“We are practically neighbours,” he went on in spite of the young woman’s obvious reluctance to take their acquaintance any further. “I own Clyne Cottage — well, I say practically neighbours, because we are separated by some backfields, of course, and that little patch of woodland.”
Reluctantly Holly confirmed his assumption of her identity while she kept a careful eye on her cousin, quickly calculating how soon she could rescue Elizabeth from what was obviously a terrible discomfiture. But that peculiar friend of Mr Darcy’s talked on and on and she could not break his onslaught of social pleasantries, however hard she tried to give him her best stern schoolmistress eye. Good Lord, she thought while she waited for an opening to present itself, is this chatterbox really a friend of that arrogant Mr Darcy? They looked like Tom and Jerry strutting about in such a ridiculous fashion outside their own natural surroundings! Well, she would not let Elizabeth or herself play Kate or Sue to them. She would get her away from there — soon!
Her cousin remained subdued and awkward until Mr Darcy, apparently as the result of some super human effort, was able to silence his friend and addressed Elizabeth on some polite nonsense about her family. Elizabeth relaxed slightly and answered him, accepting his congratulations on the upcoming marriage of her sister. Mr Darcy could not take his eyes off her, though he wore a distinctly confounded expression and was shifting his weight from one leg to the other, seemingly anxious to take his leave. There was a small lull in the conversation when the questions on families and health were exhausted and Holly wasted no time taking advantage of it.
“I am afraid my mother will be expecting us back,” she said. “She would not want us to be late for her tea.”
She tugged at Elizabeth’s arm; she was still staring at Mr Darcy, hypnotised by what Holly recognised as a very dangerous look in his eyes.
“Perhaps we will have the pleasure again soon, Miss Bennet?” Mr Darcy said. “Miss Tournier?” He turned to her, adding her name as an afterthought.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said quietly and Holly d
id not answer at all. She simply raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth and steered her away.
The men stayed rooted to the spot, looking after them as they hurried down the knoll and onto the village lane. After they slipped out of sight, Baugham concentrated on his friend, who stayed gazing after them for a long time.
“Well,” Lord Baugham said breaking the silence after a good while, “tea would have been nice.”
ELIZABETH STORMED DOWN THE LANE and Holly found she was forced to take small running steps to keep up with her.
As Rosefarm appeared at the end of the narrow road, Elizabeth suddenly stopped and faced her cousin.
“Holly,” she said, “I cannot go home yet; I must have a few minutes. Please humour me. I will meet you shortly at the big elm by the crossing.”
“Of course,” Holly said, “but what . . . ”
She had time for nothing more before Elizabeth stuffed her hymnbook and shawl into her arms and broke out in a run, leaving her cousin behind. Holly had to confess the respite might be good for her as well — the appearance of Mr Darcy and his friend had also shocked her and she felt very uncertain of herself. Angry and jealous and disappointed, this was not what she had expected from Elizabeth’s visit. Curse those men with their easy smiles and self-righteous lordly manners! They cared nothing for anything but their own will and fancy! Holly wandered the lanes for the requested few minutes and then slowly made her way towards the agreed meeting.
She spotted her cousin standing by the old, nearly bare tree, looking out for her. Holly quickened her pace and soon caught up with her.
“Better?” she asked quietly and slowly gave back the shawl and book.
Elizabeth smiled and fiddled with her effects before she answered. “Marginally; at least I know now what is bothering me enough to make me bolt like that and cause a spectacle in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.
Holly said nothing and Elizabeth took a deep breath.
“Holly, I am so confused. I do not know one fact from another anymore. What is he doing here? The nerve of him! To happen upon me like that when I had no idea and could not prepare myself! Or can you give me a reason I even should prepare myself? Why do I feel like I should?”
She clenched her fists and hugged her hymnbook tight in an effort to calm down.
“Did you see how he looked at me and how nice he was? I cannot help but think maybe he has changed . . . and then, Holly, I must say this out loud even though the thought rightly frightens me. Do you suppose he is here for me? Or just to visit his friend? Is this a terrible co-incidence, and if not, then what exactly is it? What is he on about?”
“But Elizabeth, that makes no sense at all; why would he come here to seek you out?” Holly cried in puzzlement, as much to convince herself as Elizabeth. “After such an arrogant and insulting proposal this spring, then such strange behaviour when you saw him in the summer. All politeness and condescension until he heard the news about Lydia . . . ”
Elizabeth was pacing, only half-listening and muttering to herself. “Oh, why is he — how do I speak to him? What should I say? How should I act? How do I feel? How should I feel?”
Holly’s brows almost met in the middle as she tried to sort out all that Elizabeth had told her earlier, combined with what she could see of her reactions upon seeing the man again, and then fit it in with her own sentiments and fears about the astonishing events of the morning.
“He purposefully sets out to destroy Jane’s hopes and happiness, but then has an apparent change of heart concerning her and Mr Bingley, only to abruptly leave Hertfordshire after having scarcely spoken ten words to you the entire time he was there. And then, Lady Catherine comes to call for the sole purpose of insulting and threatening you. Then he unexpectedly appears here, apparently only to continue his taciturn ways and stare at you shamelessly? Yet you cannot reconcile your feelings toward him?”
Elizabeth was so agitated and confused that she could not answer, so Holly continued: “You must forgive me for asking, but have you lost your wits? What in the world can your dilemma be about this man? I can tell you precisely what you should feel about him!”
“Holly, no! I know it seems strange, especially when you lay things out in black and white that way, but I suspect there is so much more to him than all this. I truly believe he is a good man. He certainly is a good, caring brother. And there are times, when he looks at me with such an expression of tenderness, like — ”
“Tenderness!” Holly interrupted snorting in disgust. “Spend enough time fending off the advances of fathers and brothers of schoolgirls and you’ll recognise that look for what it really is! I am sorry to be so blunt, Elizabeth, but he has made clear, in no uncertain terms, his opinion of you. He has no respect or esteem for you — he desires you; that is the extent of it. A man with a strong desire will couch it in any terms necessary to gain his ends, including looks of tenderness and even proposals of marriage or holidays in Scotland if he grows desperate.”
Elizabeth looked at her cousin shrewdly for a moment while drumming her palm with a dead twig.
“Don’t think me a simpleton, Holly, simply because ‘brothers and fathers’ are relatively unknown to me. I know what that look is. But as well as I recognise it, I also recognise that it is not everything.” She sighed and threw away the twig in one hasty gesture. “It’s not so much the way he looks at me or what he says — it is what he will not say and what he does not want me to see in him. If he were consistent in his actions and words, I would have no hesitation.” She sighed. “Oh, it was much easier when I had made up my mind and was so certain about what I knew he was!”
Holly smiled tightly, uncomfortable with her cousin’s struggle to explain away the man’s behaviour. “Yes, consistency would be a blessing indeed, but I’m afraid that quality is sorely lacking in humanity in general. Ourselves included I fear; for I would hazard a guess that if Mr Darcy were not half as handsome as he is, your feelings about him would not be quite so confused. Men are not the only ones to let a pretty face go to their heads or affect their judgement, are they?”
Holly’s expression grew serious as she continued walking beside her cousin. “Do not believe that I think you are a simpleton, Eliza, or anything of the sort. You have, however, led a protected and sheltered life in Hertfordshire, and it’s happy for you that you have. But, cousin, men can be scheming, and devious — and it can be very hard to discern their motives, especially when we ourselves are conflicted in what we feel about them.”
Elizabeth gave a hard little laugh and for a moment Holly thought she saw a shadow of fury flicker across her face.
“Don’t think that men like that are strangers in protected and sheltered places. On the contrary, it seems to me they actively seek those places out.”
Holly looked at the ground for a moment and then quietly said, “I suppose you mean Lydia.”
“And by Lydia I mean her husband,” Elizabeth said sharply. “Yes, there is a fine example to enlighten our conversation! An apt to illustration of how a sheltered life can be the most dangerous gift someone can give you in the guise of love and care.”
“Forgive me, Elizabeth,” Holly replied, keeping her eyes lowered. “I don’t mean to come across as all-knowing and worldly wise. Heaven knows there are enough such men in the world to meet us wherever we happen to be — even tucked away in a tiny village in Scotland.” She kicked at a pile of gathering leaves on the edge of the path. “And there are plenty of us who are more than willing to listen to them.”
Elizabeth looked at Holly curiously, saying nothing in case this reflection had some foundation in experience she might want to relate. Holly did not elaborate, though, and soon Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered back to the events of the morning and all the unpleasant memories and regrets the sight of Mr Darcy had conjured up.
“I was fatally mistaken in Mr Wickham. I could be just as mistaken in Mr Darcy and then my fault would be great indeed.”
Holly smiled. “You, dear cousin, feel you
are too quick to judge a man — not that I can see much evidence that you have judged this Mr Darcy wrongly — but then, I am too apt to mistrust, so I may be ascribing sinister motives to his strange behaviours when upon further examination they may be perfectly innocent.
“But as much as I try, as I think on it, I cannot reconcile myself that he just happens to be visiting a nearby friend at the same time you just happen to be visiting us. And such a friend as that . . . how close can they really be, Eliza? They appear to be so very different in temperament — not that I care so much for Mr Darcy’s manners, but as questionable as they are, they are to be preferred to those of that Lord Baugham.”
“Oh, Holly. Surely we have Lord Baugham to thank for not ending up as the topic for conversation and speculation at every dinner table in the parish! He really did us all a service even if it was quite a silly one. I was so very awkward and silent . . . as for Mr Darcy . . . ” Elizabeth sighed and seemed to be watching something far away beyond the clearing and the rolling hills. “I wish I understood what he was about. I wish . . . I wish for once I knew the motive for his actions or words. If I knew that, then perhaps . . . ”
Holly watched her. For some reason Elizabeth’s words unsettled her. She wanted to ask her if she loved Mr Darcy, but she could not. Strangely enough, she was frightened of the answer. If Elizabeth was regretting her choices and actions over the past year despite all protestations of reason and facts, if she was still, when seeing him face to face, undecided as to what her feelings for him were, it seemed their old, familiar, safe relationship was changing, and right now she needed to know everything was just as it always had been with them.
The strong winds of the night before had shaken the trees and blown away the brilliant leaves. Now the trunks stood black and naked against the green of the grass and pines. They stood silently side-by-side until Elizabeth reached out her hand and took Holly’s.
“Whatever is the truth about Mr Darcy, I have come to realise that the follies and inconsistencies I so enjoy observing and laughing at in my fellow human beings can be found very much closer to home. I should start with myself the next time I want to marvel at how ridiculous people’s actions and words can be.”
