Twixt Two Equal Armies

by Gail McEwen

  Hamish’s spirits sunk. The elation and pride he felt at being able to be of assistance to Miss Tournier faded when once more his lordship’s shortcomings were recalled. He did not quite know how to answer her, so he looked down at his feet once more while they walked on.

  “Hamish?” she soon gently prompted. “Did you not enjoy it?”

  She had once told him she could not abide foolishness, and although he had an inkling his sentiments might be considered foolish at best and even childish, he did think — and from all that he had heard in the way of morally educational tales from his teachers and the Reverend, it was true — that honesty never could be considered to be wholly foolish. Imprudent, perhaps, but he did so much want to tell her.

  “Yes, ma’am, assure I did. It was . . . exciting. But . . . ” He took a deep breath and stole a glance at her to ascertain she did not frown or even laugh at him. “I cannae deny I was . . . surprised at . . . at the outcome of the Run.”

  He could tell she regarded his laborious confession with a straight face and admirable patience.

  “It’s just that he was so much better than Ned!” he burst out with a pleading look. “I know he was! He is! And that furlie horse of his is . . . magnificent! And he lost and I dinnae think he should have.”

  The boy’s words made Holly recall her own, very opposite, impression that Lord Baugham had conceded a certain victory for the noblest of reasons. She smiled. Silly thoughts to be thinking considering how they had parted just now . . . and now she wondered if perhaps he had not lost out to Ned McMahon so voluntarily after all, since he had so readily snatched up the ‘prize’ in the end. However, she did not want to say as much to a boy in the throes of acute hero worship.

  She turned her smile upon Hamish and tried to ease the boy’s disappointment. “Hamish, we must allow even those people we admire to be human and imperfect. Yes, Lord Baugham lost to Mr McMahon, but I hope you noticed how gentlemanly his behaviour was in doing so — he would not endanger others for the sake of his own glory.”

  Hamish pondered this — to his mind — very generous interpretation of the obligations of a heroic horseman. As far as he could deduce from all the adventure stories, the prime reason for engaging in displays of gallantry was to beat the enemy soundly and, if possible, through the utmost exertion of one’s capabilities and skills. It still seemed to him Lord Baugham had failed in that, seeing as Hamish was convinced his lordship surely could have beaten anyone in the most dashing way he chose to.

  But still, if Miss Tournier was of the opinion that gentlemanly behaviour included losing with grace and affability, he supposed he could grant that Lord Baugham did possess gentlemanly manners.

  “Aye, miss,” Hamish said hesitantly, “I daursay ye’re right. Although I do think in all fairness,” he said a little more determinedly, “that it would also be gentlemanly to treat a sporting engagement seriously.”

  Or, Holly thought darkly, to treat a friend, or even employee with respect enough to allow her to finish her sentence and not ignore her just because someone else comes along to flatter you and invite you to supper. But this was not about her and her bruised feelings, or even his lordship’s manners truly, this was about Hamish, and she did want him to learn the principles of gentlemanly conduct. She swallowed her feelings of bitterness and put the best face on Lord Baugham’s actions that she could.

  “That is just it, Hamish. This was a sporting competition, not a struggle for freedom or a battle to preserve life and limb. It was a friendly race between neighbours. Sometimes a gentleman must choose which battles are worth fighting, and sometimes it demonstrates more strength to be humble than to swagger and lord it over others.”

  Hamish, having just benefited from a prime display of swaggering and lording by his own family, began to see the sense of what Miss Tournier was saying. He also reflected that his lordship’s kind indulgence of his absorption with the adventures of Captain Bob and how he so understandingly took part in his fascination might be comparable to what Miss Tournier was saying about his chivalrous behaviour on the racecourse. In that light, of course, his lordship did seem quite heroic indeed.

  “Yea, that’s so, an all,” he said eagerly, suddenly remembering something else praiseworthy. “And did ye see how he had to stay on his horse when all the wee ones was crowding in? He couldnae hae very well jumped off and let him loose, could he?”

  Hamish, almost restored in faith and spirit, looked at Miss Tournier with wide-eyed wonder.

  “But I do wished he would hae won. Don’t ye, miss?”

  Holly, who would by no means weaken the admiration of this boy who until now, had few, if any, heroes in his life, returned his wide-eyed stare. “That was a very fine thing he did indeed. I am sure he could have won if not for that.”

  And it was the truth, she thought. That, after all, is what she had tried to tell him herself.

  This answer seemed to satisfy the boy, for he nodded his head gravely and walked on beside her in silence.

  “Miss,” he said at length. “Are ye and his lairdship just being chivalrous to me, too? I try my best but I cannae help but think . . . me not in school an all. Haen’t been for two years, though when I was, Mr Crossly used to say I did well. I should like to know even if ye are, you know.”

  The earnestness behind those bright eyes made Holly pause and carefully consider before making her answer.

  “Hamish, the code of chivalry proscribes good manners and proper behaviour. So, if I were merely being chivalrous toward you, I would give my curtsey and greet you politely when we meet on the street or in church. Lord Baugham, to be polite, would give you a nod as you passed him by. This is all that is required for good manners.

  “You, Master Nethery, have been noticed because of your worth. You showed yourself to Mrs Tounier to be quick-witted, able, eager and willing to work. That in turn is what led her to recommend you to Lord Baugham. You have proven to be all these things, in addition to being a very pleasant walking companion.”

  Blushing, the boy walked quietly by her side obviously pleased with her answer. Holly was thoughtful, pondering his previous words. Just as they reached the gate of Rosefarm Cottage, Holly broached the subject.

  “Hamish, I know you were taken out of school and I can see you are sorry for it. I would be happy to work with you in continuing your education if you like. I believe there are great things ahead for you, Hamish, and I would be honoured to help you achieve all that you are able.”

  “Oh Miss Tournier! . . . yes,” he stammered, “ . . . thank ye, miss! That would be . . . I would like that very much, please!”

  The smile he gave her warmed her heart. In truth, she had not seen that kind of smile and gratitude mingled with enthusiasm for a very long time. Not since she left Hockdown School, when she had been dismissed and sent home. But it was not the smiles of the girls at the seminary she suddenly remembered with regret. It was those young boys at the penny school that she had been told was such a disgrace. How could doing anything that awarded a smile like that ever be a disgrace?

  The thought stayed with her as Hamish hastily removed his cap in a salute before setting off in a run back to the village. Suddenly she felt a desperate need to talk to her mother. Common sense would drive away this curious mix of regret, sentimentality and ire the Martinmas fair had left her with.

  MRS TOURNIER WAS ENERGETICALLY STIRRING her tea when she heard the sound of voices coming down the lane. Looking up in the expectation of company when the door opened, she was slightly disappointed when her daughter walked in alone. She hardly let the girl kiss her cheek and bid her a good evening before she demanded an account of the fair.

  “Did I not hear two voices outside?” she asked, “Who has been so gallant as to drag himself away from such entertainments as to walk you home? And why is he not worth a cup of tea for his troubles?”

  “That was Hamish Nethery, Maman,” Holly said sternly. “Practically the only gentleman in attendance today — in practice,
if not in station, at any rate — and he needed to get back to his family. I am very sorry to disappoint you and your frightful need for gossip, but I could not have asked for a better or more amusing protector on my way home from that . . . affair.”

  “You think I want gossip?” she asked. “Oh, very well, perhaps I do, but spare me the cows, pantomimes and Sir Torquil’s conversation, Lie-lie, and tell me something that is not enacted every year, in exactly the same way every year, under the tiresome demand of heeding to tradition. I take it, then, that his lordship stayed well away from the spectacle?”

  Holly helped herself to tea and toast before taking her seat. “No, he was there. But really Maman,” she smiled, “I think the livestock was the most interesting and I wish you would let me tell you about it.”

  Mrs Tournier huffed. “Livestock!” she said in contempt. “But I’m glad you ran into Hamish. Tell me, how is that boy doing?”

  “Oh, he is doing very well. I like him very much — although he has quite the case of hero worship and had a hard time reconciling himself to the fact that Lord Baugham lost his bid for victory in the Ramsey race.”

  Holly took a bite of toast before continuing, with a wicked glint in her eye, “Are you sure you do not want to hear of the cows? Then I could tell you that Primmie Tristam took quite an interest in his lordship — but that is no surprise, is it? And, I might add, found it necessary to warn me about getting too high for my station!”

  Her mother cocked her head and looked curious.

  “Oh yes!” Holly went on, now realising that a good acid response may have been impossible when Miss Tristam was so busy pouring all that poison into her ear, but that she had every right to attempt one now. “She very helpfully instructed me to remember my place’ she even advised me that books and weather were the only subjects I should ever attempt to discuss with his lordship, since everything else would be tantamount to flirting. I, you understand Maman, am merely the hired help and in danger of being trifled with at every turn like any common scullery maid! Can you believe it? Primmie warned me about being trifled with!””

  “Cows indeed . . . ” Mrs Tournier groaned. “That girl is such a trial on one’s thin veneer of civility. I hope that some gentleman will offer for her soon and relieve poor Ned McMahon — it was he who won the race again, was it not? — of the obligation of that yearly kiss. I can imagine that her mother did her best to foist her off on one of the gentlemen in attendance? That would have been a kindness she would have enjoyed.”

  “Oh there was no need for that, she very quickly foisted herself off on Lord Baugham, and he was by no means unhappy with the fact. I am sure they enjoyed a great deal of inane conversation together. I left soon afterwards — I can never abide silly flirtations — I just do not have the stomach for it.”

  Holly then launched into an account of the race, and descriptions of the people and marketplace, adding a few derogatory comments on her nemesis when she could slip them in without seeming to be too affected, as well as a few choice words on his lordship’s spine in choosing his company, but Mrs Tournier only looked thoughtfully at her daughter after her spontaneous outburst, scarcely listening at all.

  “Oh, and she pressed the poor man into joining them for ‘a little supper’ just as I was leaving. He must be regretting his choice now . . . and I tell you, I cannot wait until I get back to that calamity at Clyne he calls a library and prove myself to be a saviour rather than ‘nothing better than a maid’!” she finished.

  “Really?” her mother said slowly. “And there are no redeeming features of that lordly collection at all?”

  “Maman, there are so many books to sort and classify that I must admit I have hardly been paying attention to the titles, except to decide which category to place them in. Even as bare as the shelves appear, once they’re stacked on the floor, there seem to be four times as many of them. But, if you must know, most of it is rubbish. I’m sorry to say”, she added with false charity.

  Holly proceeded to describe the progress of her work, far beyond the capacity of her mother to endure such details of explanation. She pushed aside her work, took off her spectacles and put them in her pocket.

  “It is time we had some supper ourselves, I think. “

  As they walked to the small dining room, Holly’s thoughts reverted to another point of permanent worry and annoyance over the fickle behaviour of gentlemen as she once again shared her confusion and frustration at the lack of news from Elizabeth.

  “I just don’t understand what the delay can be. Mr Darcy appeared so eager, his intentions toward her were so clear . . . you saw him with her . . . I thought for sure he would have made an offer by now.”

  Mrs. Tournier sat down across from her daughter and they waited while Mrs. Higgins filled their soup bowls.

  “Yes, I surely did see him with her. And her with him. There was no shortage of encouragement from your cousin, nor is there any shame in it when one takes into account the man’s obvious affection for her. But are you so eager after all, Lie-lie, for Elizabeth to be married? You were not so keen on the idea just a short time ago.”

  Holly paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. “It would make her happy, Maman!”

  “And you can live with that?”

  “Of course I can,” she protested, but then looked thoughtful, “Well, I suppose I didn’t like the idea at first — but after he went to such lengths to pursue her I was convinced.

  “Although I wonder,” she said, occupying herself with scraping the last drops of broth and cabbage from her bowl, “do you think maybe I should ask Lord Baugham if he has heard from him? Perhaps Mr Darcy might have gone to his estate in Derbyshire first and been held up with business? His lordship might have some news that I can include in a letter. That is, if such a subject is proper for the hired help to broach with her employer.”

  Mrs. Tournier merely raised her eyebrows as she sipped her soup, watching Holly spoon a large helping of cottage pie onto her plate.

  “Upon my word, how things have changed. There was a time when you could hardly keep a civil tongue in your head about, or towards, his lordship and now here you come home, very much put out over the idea that your conversational subjects ought to be limited. I would be very interested to know what it is you have been talking about. Surely books and the weather were never a real option despite Miss Tristam’s concern?”

  For some inexplicable reason, Holly felt a blush rising to her cheeks. Feeling stupid, she took her time before answering casually, “Oh, we just talk of general things. Books — yes, but also art, education — those sorts of things. He asked how we came to settle in Scotland. Actually, I think he is very curious about you and Papa; he asks a lot about our family though he does not speak much about himself.

  “Lately I am finding him, had found him to be, curiously easy to talk to . . . that is, when he isn’t being inattentive or irritable.”

  She watched as her mother poured out the tea for her.

  “Notwithstanding the spiteful motive behind her words, perhaps it would be for the best if you follow Miss Tristam’s advice and keep to civilities and business with his lordship. I like the man. And although I do not think he is the sort to be frightened away from visiting by the offensive manners of a girl, I should find it very tiresome to have to always enjoy his company away from you or suffer the consequences. After all, he will most likely be leaving soon and I should like to have the pleasure of his visits for as long as he is still here.”

  Oddly, Holly was not making an attempt at taking the steaming cup from her hands but was looking at her strangely,

  “Leaving soon? Why do you say that?”

  Her mother raised her eyebrows. “He does not live here permanently, Lie-lie. In fact, he hardly stays here at all, which leads me to ask you what you are going to do once he is away again.”

  Holly sat still. “I don’t know what you mean, Maman.”

  Mrs Tournier folded her hands and leaned forward.

  “
I mean, have you made any arrangements concerning continuing your work in his lordship’s library when he removes himself.”

  “I . . . He has mentioned no such plans to me,” Holly said defensively.

  “It is my understanding he rarely does,” her mother answered dryly. “He has shown remarkable constancy this year as it is, I am given to understand. He will leave — probably sooner than later — but your work will go on. I presume.”

  Holly was overcome with a strange feeling of confusion. “Yes . . . yes, I presume it will.”

  “Well, then,” her mother said pushing the cup into her hands, “I should say it would be prudent for you to prepare for that eventuality. What you are to do when — not if — he leaves. Wouldn’t it?”

  Holly looked down at her hands and forced herself to stir her cup even if there was nothing yet added.

  “You are right, Maman,” she said quietly. “That would be prudent. I will.”

  She stared in silence for a few minutes while her mother watched and waited.

  “He . . . his lordship did mention to me the other day that I was to come and go as I pleased in his absence, but I did not think he meant . . . ” Holly finally said in what was meant to be a conversational tone. “It will be a strange house without him though.”

  “Then it is a strange house for the greater part of the year,” her mother said gently.

  “I know. It’s just it will be strange working alone. It is work that requires a certain amount of consultation.”

  “I suppose it does. But you will have Hamish to help you. And I understand Mrs McLaughlin reigns supreme in the household in her Master’s absence. No doubt she will be of great assistance.”

  “No doubt,” Holly said and carefully put down her spoon again. “I like Mrs McLaughlin.”

  “Well, then,” Mrs Tournier said.

  Holly gave her mother a feeble smile. “Yes. That is that, I suppose.”

  “And then there is this, of course.” Mrs Tournier reached into her apron pocket and brought out a folded up letter.

  Holly gave it a curious glance but made no effort to take it, even though her mother demonstratively put it on the table between them.