by Gail McEwen
She smiled and sipped her wine. Despite the chill in the air and his earlier reservations, he found he was rather comfortable out there in the quiet, away from the increasingly boisterous crowd inside the house. But, he realised, they really should be getting back. It was not wise for her to stay away so long after a scene that had surely been witnessed by others. He stood up and reached out his hand to her, giving his most brilliant smile, hoping his charm would work on her reluctance this once at least.
“Now, my dear Miss Tournier! No more Mr Pembroke and no more skulking around in the shadows, hiding the brightest jewel of the evening. It has been my experience in life that good name and position will very often hide maggots and rot, whereas a diamond will shine in any gutter if you only let yourself see it.”
Her face might be indiscernible in the dark, but her voice betrayed good-natured surprise.
“Are you saying I am in the gutter, my lord?”
“No, not at all,” he laughed. “Surely not even I would dare slur our host’s dwelling like that, but as Chinese generals have known for over two thousand years: all warfare is based on deception. So even if you do not feel it to be tempting, you must trust me on this — you need to dance!”
To his surprise, she accepted his offered hand, stood and accompanied him back into the house. As they walked, she turned a genuine smile upon him.
“I will trust you on this. Though I must say I am a trifle disappointed in you. You missed a prime opportunity to insult me just now.”
He did not even give her a glance, but his blue eyes sparkled as he surveyed the room to find a conspicuous enough place in the dancing line to fulfil his goal for her.
“Oh, there will be others, Miss Tournier. Plenty of others . . . ”
She removed her shawl and draped it on the back of a chair, the old dress all but forgotten. Taking his arm again she allowed herself to be led to the dance.
“I quite depend upon it, my lord.”
ONCE THE DANCE ENDED, THERE was not much left of the despondent, sobbing and shaking woman he had helped out on the terrace a little while before and Lord Baugham was very much grateful to her for that. She had done very well, holding her head high in almost childish defiance which, he found to his amusement, he had liked very much. Also, she had not once let her eyes stray outside the dance and had shown quite a graceful turn. He could now very well see that his stubbornness and even liberal actions on that lady’s behalf had paid off. Her cheeks were glowing and she looked radiant and happy from her turn on the dance floor as he led her away again.
His train of thought was interrupted when his partner’s attention turned from him to her soft and laughing cousin, cheerfully approaching her and exclaiming the obvious.
“There you are, Holly!” Miss Bennet said. “Did I not tell you that you would enjoy yourself this evening? Such lively music! Such fine dancing!”
Baugham let Miss Tournier’s arm slip out of his before he heard Darcy’s voice behind him.
“Miss Tournier,” he was addressing her with a twinkle in his eye, “I think I must thank you for being a lovely enough incentive to cause my friend to break his annoying isolation from local society sooner than my nagging ever could have done. He had all but sworn to me he would not dance this evening, and now he has! Twice! With you! It leaves me quite hopeful, because I, for one, have never met anyone who knew less of what, or who, surrounds his home.”
Baugham gave him a look and a theatrical sigh of resignation.
“Quality before quantity, Darcy,” he said. “Do you really want to argue with me on that?”
“Not at all, my friend, but I should still like to see you become more involved in . . . ” Darcy glanced toward Miss Bennet, who was leaning in close to her cousin, laughing and speaking animatedly. “Perhaps Miss Tournier could provide you with a few, useful introductions?”
Darcy was so obviously seeking to turn Miss Bennet’s attention away from her cousin and onto himself again, that Baugham turned back to Miss Tournier and smiled. He had no particular wish to become acquainted with anyone else, but Darcy’s challenge was less than subtle so he played the friend and offered her his arm. Miss Tournier smiled, too, and allowed him to lead her away.
“I THINK,” HIS LORDSHIP SAID as they slowly made their way across the room, “you really must forgive me, but as much as I am loath to disappoint the expectations of my friend, I find that currently I have no interest in soliciting any company in addition to what I already have found.”
For no discernable reason Holly felt a slight flush rise in her cheeks, but his lordship chatted on, apparently not expecting any reply.
“But there is a confession that goes along with this stubbornness, which I hope will excuse me in your eyes, lest you think me devoid of all polish or politeness, or hopelessly taciturn and hermitic, in choosing to go through an evening with as few introductions as possible! You see, Scotland never sees my social side. I have a very complicated life in London. And elsewhere. The reason I come here is because I love Clyne and I love my freedom and my solitude and for various reasons, I do not care to share or expose my sentiments to a wider circle. I am afraid I cannot explain it better. I meant it when I said that I do not encourage social connections when I am here. It disserves my affection for this place and its importance to me. I have a house in London and an estate in Cheshire. Both of them are useful, but I have a home at Clyne. And that is necessary. I trust I can rely on your understanding?”
Holly felt slightly ashamed of the way she had so blithely held Lord Baugham’s attachments and feelings for Clyne in contempt, as well as a bit confused at Lord Baugham’s confession, and she could not help feeling curious about what sort of “complications” his life in London held. It was not her place, however, to pry and she thought she should at least acknowledge his right to love the area as much as she did. After this night’s events, she hardly owed him any less.
“I think I understand your feelings for this place, my lord. I must confess that for all the years I spent in Edinburgh, I never lost my yearning to be here . . . home. And, despite everything, I am very happy to be home now, I hope for good.”
“So then, there is nothing that could persuade you to leave? That is, if I am not being presumptuous in my questioning, you would want to stay at Rosefarm? Always?”
“Oh, I do not mean that I would never wish to travel. I have an extensive list of places I wish to see, however unlikely the possibility is, but, my home and my heart are right here in this village and at Rosefarm.”
“I see. Quite understandable. I thought perhaps the memory of your father might induce you to confess to a partiality for other places as well.”
Holly smiled a little sadly.
“Well Paris, of course, is at the top of my list. When I was a little girl, my Papa would tell me stories of how beautiful and how magical it was. The museums, the gardens, the salons . . . someday . . . ” She turned to him. “Have you ever seen Paris, Lord Baugham?”
He intently fixed her eyes with his and was quiet for too long a time.
“No,” he finally said. “It has not been possible to do so in very many years, as you know.”
He realised they had walked the whole length of the room and ended up on the opposite side without speaking to a single person beside each other. They paused by the windows and Baugham faced her, smiling.
“I see I have had the good fortune to stumble upon the one inhabitant of my neighbourhood whose company cannot be bettered. I was right: apparently there is no one in the entire room who can satisfy me better than what I already have found of my own accord. I must regard myself as a very skilful and very lucky man at the same time then.”
“Lord Baugham, you are entirely too skilled at flattery,” she lightly jested. “No wonder your life elsewhere is so full of complications. I shouldn’t wonder if they were all of the female variety.”
IT HAD BEEN A PERFECTLY pleasant moment, Baugham reflected, standing there with such unexpected comp
any, chatting away as one does in ball rooms all the time, but some unhappy recollections now intruded on this pleasant scene. While in residence, he was perfectly happy with his way of life in Town — complications and all — but once he was away he did not always look back at his doings there with complete satisfaction. He did not wish to reflect upon such things here, nor was he comfortable that his conversation with Miss Tournier was touching so near to that aspect of his life. This was not where he wanted to go nor the game he wanted to play here.
He surveyed the room and caught sight of Mrs Tournier, somewhat more subdued, sitting on the same sofa.
“I think, Miss Tournier, I have been ignoring your mother for far too long. She will not forgive me easily or attempt to restrain her reproofs if I do not remedy it, I think. Will you join me?”
He caught her looking at him with a curious glance. He answered it openly and the faintest blush crept across her cheeks.
“Oh, I am just trying to decide how much to tell Maman about Mr Pembroke. She has a very strong opinion of him and I am not sure what her reaction will be if she discovers he . . . what happened earlier, I mean.”
Baugham smiled when he saw her anxiety and was reminded of Mrs Tournier’s direct ways.
“Why, you must tell her the truth, of course,” he slyly whispered. “That you have engaged me and my sword to discipline him at the slightest trespass against you, and that that makes him a marked man and in mortal danger. Really, all things considered, that should make your mother pity him.”
MRS TOURNIER MET THEIR EYES as they made their way towards her and, although she smiled, she did not look at all pleased.
“So, you have come to rescue me at last?” she asked as her daughter sat down beside her. “And you, my lord, do not even contemplate leaving again straight away for I am quite put out! I know one should never expect decent conversation or interesting discourse when at Lady Tristam’s musicale, but I had no idea my only salvation from an extremely dull evening would be dependent on a young priest from Fife! He was well-read enough, but I am now so bored I could cry!”
“Oh Maman!” her daughter sighed and gave Lord Baugham a desperate glance.
Mrs Tournier looked at her daughter, and then she quickly glanced over to the gentleman to see what his reaction was. His lordship was standing still by the chair and wearing an amused, but completely non-committal, smile.
“The only thing that has given me any kind of pleasure or entertainment so far this evening was seeing the two of you out on the dance floor and conversing without a single temper tantrum or sulking face between you. Quite remarkable! By the looks of it, it was not as easy as it appeared from the outside. My daughter, I think, is quite exhausted from the experience. Exhausted, but very bright-eyed, I might add.”
“Oh, I have every confidence her fatigue is wholly due to the dancing,” his lordship mused. “I suspect Miss Tournier does not get to dance as much as she should. It is very beneficial exercise, I find, for a wide variety of ills. And it suits her well. I would venture to say looking happy suits her very well.”
Mrs Tournier looked at her silent daughter.
“Indeed,” she curtly said. “All this dancing of yours makes me quite long for a glass of wine; how about you, my dear?”
“Say no more!” his lordship laughed. “I am on my way!”
As he left the ladies, Mrs Tournier looked after him with narrowed eyes for a long time and then turned to her daughter.
“The reason I am most displeased with my evening so far is that I have not been able to take part in any of the truly interesting events. I see there were words exchanged between Mr Pembroke and his lordship in your presence; I saw you disappear with Lord Baugham in tow; I saw you dance and laugh with him; I saw my niece and her admirer fending off interruptions to their apparently fascinating study of the view from the eastern windows, and now I have you here beside me looking weary, but with blossoming cheeks and kind eyes on his lordship and I have no inkling of what is happening. How am I supposed to support any of it?!”
Holly closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the sofa to rest her head for a moment then began to speak in a quiet voice:
“His lordship was very kind when Mr Pembroke came up to me and . . . he wanted an introduction and . . . well, Maman, you know how he can be sometimes. I was caught by surprise and couldn’t respond myself. Lord Baugham was very kind . . . . He said I should dance and so I did. It did take my mind off things but I am very tired now . . . ”
Holly took her mother’s hand in hers and squeezed it, falling silent. For the time being, that was all the information her mother could get from her.
Mrs Tournier looked at her daughter with regret, for she could see all was not well with her in spite of her smile and flushed cheeks. If she had anticipated that Mr Pembroke would have accosted her daughter for the requested introduction to his lordship and Mr Darcy, she never would have refused — in her typically caustic manner when forced to speak to the man — to perform the service herself.
WHEN BAUGHAM RETURNED HE SETTLED beside the two ladies and watched them: Miss Tournier a little pale and quiet, Mrs Tournier developing a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Lord Baugham,” she began, “I am told you performed one kind service to my daughter already this evening; are you quite finished playing the hero, or may I make one more appeal to you?”
“As always, I am at your service, madam,” was his answer. “How may I be of assistance?”
“As you know, Mr Darcy very kindly sent his carriage for us this evening — if I could prevail upon your kind assistance by way of an escort when it is convenient for you. Mr Pembroke, I am sure, would not care to have his merriment so soon interrupted, nor am I opposed to his spending time in other company.
“At the same time, I have not yet had anything of interest happen to me this evening and even though I presume my daughter has found much more to her delight than she anticipated, she is very tired. This is all provided, of course, that you can do without the imminent vocal performance by Miss Tristam, accompanied on harp and pianoforte by her sisters. “
His lordship stood with remarkable speed.
“You may rest assured nothing would give me more pleasure than to personally see you home. I will find Darcy this instant to inform him of the change of plans.”
He hesitated and leaned over the back of the sofa to catch the ear of Mrs Tournier.
“I have a request to make of you, madam,” Baugham whispered urgently. “Ostensibly Mr Darcy is here to hunt. Game, I mean. Well, that is not going very well and my housekeeper is sorely disappointed in our efforts so far. I wonder would you be so kind as to forward an invitation to your . . . guest, Mr Pembroke? Perhaps he would be interested in aiding our hunting ambitions on an expedition or two?”
“Are you going to take him down the glen and shoot him?” Mrs Tournier asked. “That would be a favour on your part, indeed.”
Lord Baugham laughed softly even though Mrs Tournier’s statement sounded perfectly serious. He gave Miss Tournier a hasty look, but she was watching the crowd although still holding onto her mother’s hand.
“So I understand;” Baugham said, “however, on Mrs McLaughlin’s displeasure that would have scant effect and I am soliciting on my own selfish behalf here, madam.”
The lady gave him a shrewd look. “There’s a great career as a house whip awaiting you should you be inclined to enter politics,” she said. “Persuasive powers that promise something for everyone, is it?”
“Perish the thought!” Baugham said with feeling. “All I want is meat on my table and for my housekeeper to stop nagging me.”
“Certainly I will forward the invitation if you insist upon it, but I am not convinced myself of Mr Pembroke’s sporting prowess.”
“Well, my friend’s aim improves significantly with his level of frustration, so I think we shall be well provided for.” Baugham winked at Mrs Tournier and with a mischievous smile on his lips, he departe
d.
When Mr Darcy was found — once more by a dark window, enjoying a dark view with his luminous and sparkling partner — he was more than happy to declare his readiness to see Miss Bennet home safely once the festivities were over, if Miss and Mrs Tournier preferred to leave early.
“Oh, I am not going anywhere!” Mrs Tournier said, lifting her eyebrows. “What a notion! Did I not say nothing of interest has happened to me yet? I will most certainly not leave before something does! But, Mr Darcy, I will most willingly accept you as a more suitable substitute on the journey home.”
His lordship’s carriage was quietly ordered and, due to the bustle that accompanied the Miss Tristams’ impending performance, in which it was difficult to determine whether the number of guests moving in to the music room was quite equal to the number making their way out — they managed to leave without attracting notice. The ride to Rosefarm was quiet, a circumstance for which they both were grateful, and Lord Baugham was everything that was polite and proper as he handed Miss Tournier out of the carriage and escorted her to her door. Then with a smile and a bow he was gone, leaving her to wonder at the strange turn of events.
HOLLY PUSHED THE DOOR OPEN and stood still in the small hall after closing it behind her. It was cold and eerily quiet, not a sound to be heard in a household that otherwise was more cramped and restless than usual. She could hear the clock ticking in the parlour as she quietly moved along the hall, removing her gloves and untying her cloak. Peeking inside, she watched how the moonlight cast a long silvery shadow across the dark room. It looked magical and she tiptoed inside to enjoy it.
The light lay over the sofa and Holly sank down into it quietly. She slipped off her shoes and, drawing her feet up underneath her, all she could hear was the slight creaking of the springs of the sofa and her own stays. Then there was a deep sigh, which filled the room like a shout. She was slightly startled herself and, as if fearing to disturb the sleeping house itself, took pains to sit perfectly still and quiet for a few minutes until peace returned.
She was alone, but not lonely in her home. A wonderful feeling, even though the evening itself had been quite stressful. Without really noticing it, she slipped into thoughts about her companion in the carriage ride home. Was he sitting in a dark and silent room like herself, thinking about what had passed at the Tristams’? And how was he thinking about it? He seemed pleasant enough on the way home and had been more than generous and gentleman-like when she had needed it, but on reflection, how did he view the evening and her part in it?
