Twixt Two Equal Armies

by Gail McEwen

  Despite his almost overwhelming nervousness, he almost had to laugh when he saw her reaction; her eyes grew wider and her mouth dropped open as she looked from the willow ring in his hand up to his face and down again several times.

  “Are . . . are you in earnest?”

  “Never more so in my life, my sweet.”

  Her eyes softened and she smiled the most beautiful smile he could imagine. She lifted her hand and clasped it in his; the little willow ring between their palms. When she looked at him again, there was a decided gleam in her eye and with a lift of her eyebrow, she gave him her answer.

  “I will have to think about it. But you may kiss me in the meantime.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed and he drew her closer as a wave of relief and happiness washed over him. There were no sharp rocks at the bottom of this waterfall after all. In her eyes he had found a calm, deep pool of still water that he would happily drown in.

  “Oh no,” he said, feeling her closeness. She looked up at him expectantly, her lips already parted. “I will not make the same mistake twice. I have been so unforgivably foolish and I fear I must know now. So, madam,” he muttered as he caught a wisp of hair come loose and slowly tucked it behind her ear, “I will gamble everything, I will stake my heart. This is a package deal this time I’m afraid: will you be mine and let me kiss you . . . now and for the rest of your life?”

  She was trembling. His closeness, the touch of his hand as he played with her hair, the sound of his voice as he whispered so softly and intimately, the look — the almost overwhelming look in his eyes. She wanted to resist, to say, “Wait! There is so much to consider” — this was so sudden . . .

  But she could not tear her eyes away from his, and she could not resist what she saw in them. All she could manage was an almost imperceptible nod and a barely whispered, “Yes.”

  “Oh, good,” he simply said, and then everything else was secondary.

  It was just as he remembered. She smelled sweet and warm and tasted of honey and dew. Her hand never left his and he clasped it tightly to make certain she would understand he would not let go before his time — this time — and more than anything, he felt like the missing piece of a puzzle had finally been found and fitted perfectly into a very awkward and hitherto curious void within him. There was so much promise in her answer, there was so much happiness to be discovered and she would marry him. She would be his and he would be hers: to torture, to tease, to test every inch of the way and to kiss, to love, and to openly adore and enjoy and to never, ever let go.

  He released her lips and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You have made me a very happy and a very relieved man. I thought it was too late. I thought I was too flawed. I thought I had driven you away the very moment I dared listen to my heart alone.”

  Holly felt as if she was dreaming. She was in his arms, and this time instead of feeling shock and surprise, she felt at home, safe and warm, like she was finally in the one place she had always belonged. The cold hurt and loneliness that she had carried within her heart since her father’s death began to loosen and thaw with his kiss.

  When it was over, he was still there, speaking words she could scarcely believe, showing himself and his heart to her, unguarded and vulnerable.

  “You are welcome — you are so very welcome. I should be ashamed to admit it, but what you did that day, that was not what offended me. In truth, it helped me to know my heart as well, but afterwards . . . ”

  He still held onto her one hand tightly, but her other hand had somehow slid under his coat and rested on the small of his back. He felt so warm and strong and she knew she should take her hand away, but the thoughts of what had happened before made her want to hold him all the more tightly.

  “But afterwards . . . you pulled away . . . you will not pull away from me again?”

  He smiled and let his arms encircle her tightly.

  “No, I will not. Ever. Look!”

  He released her and took her left hand in his, slipping the willow ring over her finger. It was too big and it chafed against her other fingers, but he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “It’s neither grand, nor valuable but it would bend, like me, around your finger for as long as you will have it. This willow will not weep, it will turn and follow and draw you back if you ever regret having sat down by its feet. That I promise you, sweetest, dearest, busiest bee of my heart.”

  She smiled as she fingered the ring.

  “It may not be grand, but it means the world to me.”

  Everything was still around them. It seemed even the water that had been bubbling and chattering before had slowed its pace and rested. There was no wind; there were no birds, just a steady heartbeat where she rested her head against his chest that was in perfect harmony with her own still sounding in her ears. She slipped her arms around his waist, wondering if she could ever again feel as happy as she did at this moment.

  Chapter 34

  The Romance at Longbourn Continues

  They were slowly — very slowly — making their way up the village road back to Longbourn. She was leaning on his arm, a weight he cherished, and he was doing his utmost to keep her as close to him as possible. Sometimes her head would briefly lean against his shoulder and he would stop their walk to have a better look at that sweet face so infuriatingly hidden beneath the bonnet.

  Very little had, in truth, been said. He felt it was a relief for once to let his actions and expressions speak for him and to do so without control or qualms. He was delighted with the way his every true word or look caused her to reward him with the same. She laughed a great deal and sighed happily a great deal more. He used every excuse to draw her towards him and delay their return and she did not put up much resistance.

  “Do you think she will forgive me?” Baugham asked when she laughingly accused him of once again employing underhanded tactics to prevent her from returning to her mother. “I have kept you out here to myself for a scandalously long time, and when I do bring you back, it is only to tell her that I will be taking you away from her for good. I believe I might truly be frightened to face her. She has had no qualms in letting me know she is already most displeased with my behaviour of late.” He kept his grip on her and despite the fact that they were in full view of the road, he slipped his arms around her.

  “Ah, my love,” he sighed, pushing her bonnet back. “To think my triumph could be this great after my faults have been so grave. It is, I declare, positively immoral.”

  She smiled and lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed his lips lightly, keeping her hands on his shoulders possessively.

  “I admit your behaviour has been quite vexing, and not only to Maman, but she has been equally cross with me recently, so she may not at all mind your taking me off her hands. However, this brings up a very important matter that should be discussed. Have you thought this over carefully? Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? I most likely will not make a very good wife, you know.”

  He raised his eyebrows and caught hold of her waist with both of his hands.

  “Discuss? Matters? Dearest, are you trying to scare me off? Here I am making violent love to you — at long last, one might add and against all my silly notions of self-preservation — and you want to discuss ‘matters’?”

  He lowered his head closer to hers and brushed his lips over her cheek and temples on his way to finding her lips once again. He let his hands bring her even closer, his blue eyes intensifying as she was once more drawn to rest against him.

  “No, it seems you will not make a very good wife at all, will you?” he murmured.

  “I think I just told you that. Just remember that I have done my duty and warned you.”

  He gave a throaty little laugh that for some reason sent a thrill down her spine.

  “I rather think you will make a perfect wife . . . for me. But yes, I’ve thought this over carefully. I’ve thought of no
thing else for days, and this is exactly what I want.

  He rested his chin on her hair and softly asked, “Now, are there any other serious matters of import you would like to discuss, madam, before I kiss you again?”

  “Actually, there is one other thing.”

  “And what might that be?” he asked, tilting her chin up with his finger and teasing her mouth with his.

  “Tell me why,” she managed to ask.

  “Why I want to kiss you?” he teased, his breath warm on her cheek. “I thought I answered that already. I love you.”

  “Oh . . . ” was all she could say and despite having quite happily slipped into familiarity with him so quickly, she blushed.

  He simply smiled and tenderly draped the shawl that had fallen down over her shoulder again, taking much time in assuring it was lying snugly against her neckline. Then he kissed her and gently nudged her on, still holding on to her waist.

  They wandered out onto the main road leading to and through the village. Baugham was slightly disappointed to note that most of the good citizens of Meryton and its surroundings who passed them as they made their way back seemed in a hurry to be somewhere else out of the chill air and not inclined to take notice of his singular cause for happiness or his beautiful future bride. They picked up their pace, her hand entwined through the crook of his arm, and there rested a contented and peaceful silence between them.

  When they spied the roof of Longbourn peeking over the hedges at the end of the lane, Baugham stopped and took her hand.

  “Dearest . . . Holly?” he said softly. “May I come in and speak to your mother yet today?”

  She smiled at him, neatened the folds of his cravat and straightened the lapels of his coat.

  “You had better. If you think I will consent to you going back to Netherfield and leaving me to wonder whether all of this has been a dream, or to fend for myself in this singularly light-headed state you’ve reduced me to, without going inside and making this official with my mother, you are sadly mistaken.”

  She fingered the circle of willow still adorning her left hand, “Though, what she will have to say about your choices in jewellery . . . I cannot tell.”

  He smiled and, determined to steal one more kiss in the shelter of the shrubberies, he encircled her and drew her close.

  “Well, whatever she does, I have high hopes she will congratulate herself on a very well directed lesson in propriety after all.”

  Holly was just going to ask him what he meant when he executed his ambition and engaged her in a long, thorough and breathless kiss that effectively emptied her mind of anything except his presence.

  MRS TOURNIER PURSED HER LIPS and let both of her hands rest, obscuring the text of her open book lying in her lap. How long was that daughter of hers going to walk the country lanes in her sorry state? She had seen her slip out after talking to Elizabeth earlier, but when she questioned her niece she would say nothing about Holly’s disappearance.

  The bridal couples had departed, and the older generation of the Bennet family was quietly sitting in the parlour digesting the day’s events. Mrs Tournier glanced at her brother in the chair beside her reading his paper. That he had stayed with them, rather than retire to his study, was a testament to the contemplative silence in which they were immersed, each sunk into his or her own thoughts, each unwilling to share them. Even Mrs Bennet was silent, blissfully basking in the great fortune of having daughters sensible enough to attract such wealthy and fine husbands, when the door opened and her niece stumbled in, bright-eyed, cheeks flushed, breathless and followed by an only slightly less animated Lord Baugham.

  A stunned silence followed where the older Bennets stared, and the young people exchanged sheepish glances and tried to catch their breaths and composure.

  Finally, Mr Bennet folded his newspaper over his knees and gave his sister a look.

  “Perhaps you should like to make use of my study, Arabella?”

  Mrs Tournier found herself quickly and replied in a calm voice.

  “It certainly appears that I should,” she said and abandoned her book.

  She stood and walked down the hall and the young lovers trailed after her, aware that their movements were being followed by the other occupants of the parlour — one slightly bemused and one keenly curious. Once they entered the room and the door was shut behind them, there was a strange silence as Holly shuffled with her skirts and his lordship shifted his gloves from one hand to the other and finally deposited them into his hat. Mrs Tournier noticed something peculiar in their postures. They stood a little too close together and there was a little too much eagerness in their avoidance of meeting any eyes.

  “Well!” said Mrs Tournier, turning around to face them. “Either you have caused another monumental scene with one of your incomprehensible quarrels or I had better ask his lordship not to take a seat until he has spoken!”

  The brightness of Holly’s eyes belied the attempt at calmness in her voice.

  “Maman, I believe you should offer Lord Baugham a seat. He . . . he wishes to speak with you.”

  The object of their debate could not resist sending her a look he knew spoke plainly of all the feelings he had so recently attained her permission to express.

  “I dare say Mrs Tournier is perfectly right,” he smiled. “What I wish to say to her does have a better, more appropriate, ring to it done formally.”

  Mrs Tournier, in turn, sent him a look which almost made her daughter tremble, and then settled herself regally in a chair by the fire. But his lordship sent his love a reassuring smile and addressed himself to her mother.

  “No doubt the singularly silly grin on my face speaks volumes to a shrewd and impatient observer such as yourself, ma’am. I have a perfectly good reason for it, however, which must speak in my defence. I have asked your daughter if she would honour me with her hand in marriage and, to my great relief and happiness, she has accepted me.”

  “Indeed?” said Mrs Tournier, contemplating which of her several honest sentiments she should express first.

  “Oh, madam, please don’t tell me you are rendered speechless! Rather let me suggest to you that wonder at how I ever made it to this point, or even self-congratulation on your part, would be far more appropriate.”

  Mrs Tournier pursed her lips but could not suppress the twinkle in her eye.

  “I only wonder at what my daughter did to finally bring you to your senses, my lord.”

  Baugham looked at his betrothed, still steadfastly standing by his side.

  “She laughed,” he simply said. “She frowned. She smiled. She crept into my heart and kindled a fire. She had the courage and conviction to look me in the eye long enough for me to see promises of things I never thought I would see. And,” he added with a wry smile, “she bothered me until I thought I should go distracted.”

  “Yes,” Mrs Tournier said tartly, “she has a tendency to do that.”

  One look at her daughter’s face after his little speech told the woman all she needed to know. The girl was far gone. The both of them were far gone. She leaned forward in her chair and held out her hand to Holly while addressing his lordship.

  “I would say that you are even on at least one score, Lord Baugham, for you have caused sufficient bother and distraction in this family to consider yourself fully repaid for whatever troubles you may have experienced. I have questions and concerns, make no mistake about that, but since it is obvious that neither of you has room for any thoughts beyond your present bliss, I will defer any conversation on matters of business for another day.

  “Well, I suppose if you must have her, I can have no objections. I warn you though, Tournier ladies come in pairs.”

  His lordship laughed. “Of course! And let us not forget, madam, which of you enticed me first to give up my secluded existence. I shall never forget that first afternoon’s tea, when I was so pleasantly disabused of all my prejudiced notions regarding my Scotland neighbours.”

  Mrs Tournier gave
a quick smile and shook her head before turning her attention to Holly.

  “I know you are happy, Lie-lie, and I am happy for you. You do not need my consent, but as long as your young man there satisfies me of his love for you and his intention to take care of you, you will have my blessing. It is good to see you smile again. You look just like your Papa when you smile so . . . ”

  Holly, who had been watching their exchange with her heart in her stomach and a lump in her throat, was completely overwhelmed with emotion when her mother spoke those words and she was only able to choke out, “Oh, Maman . . . ” before the tears came. She dropped to her knees and embraced her mother, still sitting in her chair, laughing as she cried because she knew how silly she was being. After a time, she composed herself enough to loosen her hold and accept the handkerchief offered by a slightly uncomfortable, yet still smiling, Lord Baugham.

  “As much as tears distress me, my dear, and in particular, I have found, your tears,” he said while she wiped her eyes, “it must be a remarkable testament to my blissful state that I cannot stop grinning even now.”

  He then noticed Mrs Tournier glancing down at her daughter’s hand she was still holding on to with a look of surprise.

  “What in the world is this?”

  His lordship pulled up a stool to sit beside the chair and answered sheepishly, as he took Holly’s hand from her mother’s and fingered the willow ring.

  “This, ma’am, is evidence of the sorry state your daughter has brought me to. I would accuse her of toying with me by her delay in meeting me, if I were not convinced there is not a touch of guile in her. The longer I waited for her this morning, the stronger the realisation became that I did not care to be without her — ever — and all the time I worried she would not come. By the time she finally arrived, I knew I must propose without delay. If she said yes, I would not wait another day to put a ring on her finger and so provide the world with visible evidence of my good fortune. Call it a selfish impulse if you must . . . ” he squeezed her hand and smiled tenderly into Holly’s face, “but it is an impulse I am very glad I gave in to.”