by Gail McEwen
“So, we won’t stay long?”
“Not a moment longer than necessary.”
“And after that?”
He smiled. “On to Town where I can show you off in style. We’ll go to the theatre—every night if you like—and when we tire of that, we’ll be highly unfashionable and spend all of our time in each other’s company.”
“And when we tire of that?”
“Anything we like, love.”
“That sounds,” she snuggled against his chest, “wonderful.”
“Feel better?”
“Mm hm . . . ” she closed her eyes and her breathing deepened.
It was too hard to resist. “Well, I am happy you are able to sleep now, my lady, because I believe we have made certain that none of our neighbours are doing so any longer.”
Her eyes were still closed and she lay perfectly still with a satisfied smile on her lips.
“Oh yes, I dare say I will . . . ”
But then she sat up abruptly and looked at him.
“Oh no! Do you think they . . . ? Oh, love, we can never, never come back to this inn again!”
He could not help but laugh at her.
“If you like,” he said. “However, that probably won’t be necessary since I took the precaution of giving our names as Mr and Mrs Darcy.” She gasped, sitting up in horror, and then she saw his dancing, mischievous eyes and the wicked grin on his face and once again they shared the intimacy of hushed and secret laughter: diving beneath the covers, playfully shushing each other, letting it bubble up and subside in that same natural rhythm they found so easily in their private time together. But the day had been a long one, the hour was late and as the fire dwindled down, so did their levity.
He smoothed the rumpled bedclothes around them and brushed away a few tresses stuck to her glistening face. She was curled up beside him, lying very still. Asleep—his mission was accomplished. Carefully he covered her with the rest of the sheets and spreads. She did not stir. He lay back and folded his arms behind his head and watched the dancing shadows on the ceiling. His own drowsiness that had been creeping up on him before she entered his chamber had disappeared. He felt relaxed and calm but sleep was kept at bay by his scattered thoughts.
There was, he admitted, more to the business of titles and estates than he let on. The words he had just employed to convince her of the very opposite, he had used on himself many, many times, and they did not always work. But . . . it was not just him any longer. In truth, he had never contemplated that by his marriage he was, indeed, creating a countess. He had ignored the duty to his line and the considerations to his title and married Holly because he knew Holly could make him happy. He now feared he had been infinitely selfish in that action. In a short time she would be a countess and she was right; he had done nothing to prepare her for it. He did not care for it, but the reality was that she would meet many people who depended on and needed a countess. He had no expectations from her other than her love, but he realised now that was not the complete reality of their situation and his marriage. At Clyne he had been able to ignore it but in the future it would be inevitable.
He looked down at her in her most vulnerable state and was suddenly reminded of her courage, her pride and her intelligence. How she had stood tall and straight and challenged him with the truth. How she had boldly made her way in the world. How she met everything in her path with honesty and integrity and never budged when she dug her heels in. And then he knew: his fears were not for her, his fears were for himself. She would face this like she faced everything; the staff and tenants would love her and she would be a fine countess. It was his weakness, his failings that made him dread their arrival at his family home. Could he overcome the feelings of impotence and resentment that always found him there? And if he could not, what would she think of him? Troubled thoughts and increasing dread haunted him until, exhausted, he too succumbed to sleep.
MARRIED LOVE’S FRAGILE NEW PLANTLET surely bears witness to the surprising strength and vitality that can be found in tender things. When it emerges from the soil of singlehood and sheds its cap striving for light and growth, it may one day grow into a majestic tree despite its feeble beginnings. Such is the hidden power of a humble seed when placed in advantageous circumstances! But while it struggles through its fragile first growth, its strength and life still a distant promise and possibility, it needs its own sheltering hothouse of care.
Such a shelter was the secluded honeymoon of Lord and Lady Baugham. It had served its purpose most admirably and love’s growth was secured and firmly established in a short but very fruitful time. The arduous circumstances of travelling two hundred miles from the Borders to Cheshire in the confined seclusion of a carriage, however, at the end of three days no longer gave nurture but was rather in danger of suffocating the poor, young fledging regard and mutual affection between the two travellers.
His lordship was bored, grumpy, restless and frustrated. Lady Baugham was tired, aching, exhausted and uneasy. Something must be done. They were both painfully aware of that fact long before they reached the busy throughways leading to Manchester, and they watched the growing, industrious city rise before them, as if mocking their frustrations with its visions of chimneys rising on the horizon and the traffic rolling in and out past them. But what? Words that neither wanted to speak hung between them. Neither dared to recognise in the other what they themselves felt so keenly, neither dared to alleviate the growing dissatisfaction with a truthful, if spontaneous, comment.
Thankfully, sometimes fate does not care about intentions or lack of initiative and it was fate that decreed their last stop on the long, weary journey to Cumbermere should be at the crossroads of Cheadle. Fate that made Lady Baugham insist that late arrival or no, she would not ride one more minute in the carriage with such a glum and irritable companion and she would have a proper meal and cup of tea, thank you! before subjecting herself to the further miseries of the final leg of their journey. Fate that, after a meal that had actually done little for either disposition, they should see the road signs immediately upon stepping out of the inn:
And it must be fate that made the husband turn to the wife and jokingly say, “Isn’t it funny that the place we’d rather be travelling to is actually closer than the place we must go? It would be so easy to simply show up at the Darcy’s door unannounced.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes, it would . . . ”
And there it was! The words had been spoken, the action suggested and the resolution reached. A sense of relief swept over them that neither of them touched with words, but his lordship took his wife’s hand, kissed it and then put his arm around her while he whistled a little careless tune and she laughed a little and put her hand to his cheek.
Admittedly, the feeling of inevitability was soon replaced by one of rationalisation, but the change was easily accomplished. Lord Baugham knew how much Lady Baugham wished she could be with her cousin at this time. Lady Baugham knew how little Lord Baugham looked forward to long days with ledgers and stewards and tenants’ concerns and complaints. Both wished to postpone the end of the dream that they had, until the past three days, been living.
So the driver was given new directions, the carriage was re-entered with alacrity and mirth, seats were eagerly taken and a spirit of adventure settled upon the travellers where previously desperation had been in danger of settling in.
“Just a few days,” Holly said. “I’m sure they won’t mind. And I do want so much to see Elizabeth!”
“Quite. You know, I think they would almost take offense at our negligence if we didn’t . . . Thirty eight miles! We’ll be there in no time at all!”
It was, of course, pitch black by the time Lord Baugham’s anxious checking of his watch told them they should be close to Lambton. As a consequence, they missed the whole affair despite stealing glances out into the darkening evening from a practically impenetrable window.
“Was that it?” Baugha
m asked as the faint light of a torch flickered by, a shout by a man and the incessant barking of a dog followed them on. He put his head out of the window but could only report darkness and an icy wind hitting his face. A quick shout to the coachman did confirm their suspicions and both of them felt a little cheated at having missed such a landmark in their spontaneous detour.
“Three more miles,” Baugham said and grinned at Holly.
She could not hide her childish enthusiasm, both to finally reach their destination and to be so near her cousin. Her husband grabbed her hand and together they made a great effort once again to spot any distinctions on the way that would help them pace their arrival at Pemberley.
In the end, it was too dark to enjoy the view from the small slope that led down to the most magnificent prospect of a house so advantageously situated it had caused more doubtfully inclined persons to entertain heretical thoughts of appreciation and regard of the owner of such a splendid erection on the spot.
However, Lord and Lady Baugham were in no need of a conversion of affection regarding Mr Darcy and so the lesser spectacle of a row of lit windows on two floors shining at them through the dark was quite enough to lift their spirits and make them give heartfelt thanks.
It was not quite nine o’clock—late for those who kept country hours—but if Holly had doubts on whether they would be left outside to pound the door in despair, his lordship was confident they had come at just the right time. He proved to be right. Before the carriage had rolled up the long and well-kept drive way to the front door, over the gravel treacherously announcing their spontaneous arrival, the door was already opened and a footman hurried out with a torch to attend to them.
It was very grand, Holly thought, as her husband helped her out and into the hall. Even grander than she had ever imagined. The chequered floor echoed with their footsteps and a quick succession of approaching steps came towards them in the dimly lit hall. Her eyes followed a grand staircase upwards and above her head she could see an elaborate balustrade circling the room. Elizabeth?
But it was not. A tall man, obviously still struggling to fit into the coat he thought he had safely abandoned for the night, hurried towards them.
“Lord Baugham!” he said.
“Absolutely!” her husband answered with alacrity. “Mr Reynolds, don’t tell me you are surprised!”
“Pleasantly in this case, I am sure,” the man, obviously the butler, answered evenly before he bowed.
“Good,” his lordship said. “I should not want to abandon all my privileges just because I have chosen to involve another person in my shamefully inconsiderate way of life. Anyone at home?”
Another footman hurried in and quickly divested their lordships of their outer clothing before Lord Baugham had the chance to just drop his.
“Mr and Mrs Darcy are in the drawing room. Shall I announce you?”
Baugham looked thoughtful. “Well, yes maybe this time. All things considered.”
“And whom shall I announce?”
It was all said in the levellest of tones, but it caused Lord Baugham to break out into a grin. “Lord and Lady Baugham, if you please.”
“In that case,” Mr Reynolds said smoothly before he bowed again and took his leave, “allow me to congratulate you most heartily, sir.”
Holly shot her husband an inquiring glance, but he took her hand in his and dragged her along after the receding servant.
“Come on!” he whispered. “Can’t give them too much time to prepare themselves, can we?”
They were led up the staircase and it was all Holly could do to keep up with her husband. He did seem to know exactly where they were heading and more to the point, he was obviously not to be delayed or overly impressed by the magnificence surrounding them. It was quite simply the grandest place Holly ever had visited and she was very conscious she was treading with her travel-weary clothes and dirty boots all over very fine floors and carpets. But all that wonder came to an abrupt end when Mr Reynolds stopped in front of two tall doors and opened them with a careful motion.
“Yes?” came a voice immediately which Holly so very well knew belonged to the master of all this magnificence. And the mistress? She craned her neck to catch a glimpse.
“Lord and Lady Baugham, sir.”
Then she heard a loud ‘oh!’ and she knew the Mistress of Pemberley was just a few feet away.
That was all she needed. She had the fleeting sensation of having seen Mr Darcy sitting on a deep red sofa in front of the fire very close to someone dressed in white and blue, but when she entered the room herself and spotted Elizabeth on her feet with a shawl falling down to her feet, she just threw herself with her arms outstretched.
Lord Baugham caught up with his friend, who had been abandoned by the embracing and laughing and crying women. Mr Darcy viewed him with a pursed mouth, but with an undeniable glimmer of amusement in his eye.
“I don’t know why I didn’t expect as much,” he said to his friend.
“It is very politic to retain at least a few of one’s favourite vices after marriage, you know. The privilege of barging in on you without announcement would be very hard to give up and might even make me develop unreasonable resentment towards innocent persons.”
“And now you have an accomplice.”
Baugham smiled. “If I told you I did it for her, would you believe me?”
Mr Darcy gave a crooked smile. “I would think you have been very, very clever again, my friend.”
“Well, I like to think so! Now, I am going to kiss your wife and you can kiss mine!” He winked his eye as he moved towards the women. “Who would have ever thought, eh?”
If Mr Darcy had any objections he certainly did not show it. Instead, after Baugham had successfully managed to separate the wives and taken to kissing Mrs Darcy first on the hand and then on the cheek with great ceremony, Mrs Darcy showed her appreciation by taking his arm and gently scolding him for “taking so long to disturb us”!
When Lady Baugham looked in danger of protesting at her cousin’s assessment, Mr Darcy moved up to her and claimed his share of the wife kissing, too.
“It is obvious to me from your radiant countenance and my long-time acquaintance with your husband that you are in good health and spirits and that no calamity has driven you east when you should be going west. That being the case, I confess I am very happy to see you.”
Holly smiled. It was good to see her friends—her dear friends and . . . yes! family!—again.
“It was very bad of us,” she confessed, “I know it was but . . . ”
“Oh, please don’t, your ladyship!”
At his gentle rebuke and unfamiliar use of her new name they both balked a little and then broke out in mutual smiles.
“We are family now,” Mr Darcy said and Holly nodded.
“Yes. All thanks to Elizabeth.”
They both took a look at Mrs Darcy, still holding on to Lord Baugham’s arm and laughing at some little witticism of his.
“And so, my dear,” Mr Darcy continued, loud enough now for his wife to pay attention to his words, “now you know why I won’t allow the guestroom in the West Wing to be neglected.”
“And a very nice room it is!” Baugham quipped. “Indeed, I have been neglecting it shamefully lately which makes me eager to offer my thanks and admiration for your excellent housekeeping.”
“Now there is a thing that can do with admiring!” his hostess said. “Though not through any efforts of mine, I am sure. I do believe you may be forced to show it off to me instead of the other way around.”
“I am glad to be of use,” his lordship bowed.
“Oh, I’m sure we both would,” Holly added, relieved to be able to offer some return on their unexpected arrival. “I shall be very happy to offer all the assistance I can! I would be so glad if I could help in the slightest! Indeed, that is half why—”
But before she had time to assure Mr Darcy of her further good intentions, she felt her cousin’s hand on
her arm and she was turned away.
“Oh, dear Holly!” Elizabeth said just a trifle to gaily. “Of course you will! Why don’t I show you the dress patterns right away? And I’m sure you are exhausted and want to get out of your clothes . . . ”
She was pulled along the room after Mrs Darcy had offered her excuses to the gentlemen for being such a ghastly hostess and with a promise to see to wine and meat for the men in Mr Darcy’s study while she fed her dear cousin something in the privacy and comfort of her rooms.
“Rooms, Eliza?” Holly said as she followed her through a succession of doors before they reached the main hall again.
“Of course! As if I would put you, my dearest friend, into that no doubt shameful little box Mr Darcy keeps at the ready for his friend. There’s a fine cat-and-mouse game they engage in, I’m sure, but I won’t punish you for it. You shall have the Duchess’ rooms, upon my word!”
Walking slowly up the stairs, Holly looked at her cousin shrewdly.
“What?”
Mrs Darcy returned the question without blinking an eye.
“Oh, don’t you play games with me, Miss Elizabeth Be— Well, Elizabeth! We left that room in a dreadful hurry considering how fondly you were holding on to both my and my husband’s arms just now.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said slowly, “I was being very inconsiderate of your welfare in my joy to see you, wasn’t I?”
The corridor was mute and their steps hardly touched the floor for the thick carpet under their feet. Just when Holly was going to question her again, Mrs Darcy opened two doors and pulled her through. She reached into her pocket while Holly looked around in the dark, her only thought was that it must be a very large room because the draught was obvious from the window and she felt the open space above her. Then her cousin pulled out a tinderbox and in a flash of lightening Holly’s suspicions were confirmed.
“The Duchess’ rooms!” Elizabeth said.
“Which Duchess?” Holy asked breathlessly. The room was not as large as she had thought but the heavy red drapes mirrored in the red cloth panels all around the room gave it a majestic air that perfectly fitted the heavy oak four poster bed standing firmly almost in the middle of the floor.