Love Then Begins (5 page)

“Freeze? There was a bad freeze?”

Holly took advantage of Mr McLaughlin’s lengthy explanation to send her husband a smile and steal away from his dangerous influence. She slipped down the hallway toward the dining room, but after thinking that she would very much like to enter that room for their first dinner together on her husband’s arm, she detoured into the library to wait for him to conclude his business.

She smiled as she walked in. She had been down once or twice since she entered the house as its new mistress, of course, but it had always been a hurried visit to fetch a book, quills or paper, but now she could linger by the door as she took in that dear library that had born witness to so much revolution in their lives. There was a good fire burning, but very few candles lit. Mrs McLaughlin must have doubted they would pay the library very much attention on their sojourn downstairs. Or perhaps she thought they had no need of much light . . .

Holly smiled at the thought. What the past few days had taught her about living under the capable and affectionate guidance of Mrs McLaughlin stopped her from blushing at the housekeeper’s ability to anticipate their needs and behaviour almost before they did themselves. Who would have thought she would feel so at peace in such a short time! Happy, yes she was happy and it was all due to this little scruffy library, still struggling with the upheavals she had brought on and which she had not yet finished.

Suddenly she found herself longing to be back to her restorative attacks. The writing desk had been cleared. No doubt because, as discreet and understanding as the housekeeper was about her masters’ personal habits during their honeymoon, she had no mercy for the dust that would surely take advantage of the inertia and invade her space. In the centre of the cleared area, respectfully keeping its distance from Holly’s piles of books, random classification notes, cards and purchase lists, lay a silver tray, glittering in the restless light from the fire and drawing attention to itself as the harbourer of messages from abroad. It was a fair pile and it illustrated their neglect of the outside world in a very poignant manner.

“It can’t be all business, surely,” Holly muttered and fingered the letters, hoping to be reassured that her husband was not showing too much laxity for his affairs at her delighted expense, but she instantly was calmed. It turned out that their neglect had been mostly to their private correspondence and she silently wondered whether her husband had not shown remarkable and quite unusual foresight and directed his letters of business to some other agent than himself for the time being. On the other hand, perhaps he had known better than she that it would be necessary.

Seeing as they had not really given any preferences for the separation of the mail, Holly carefully set about to sift through them. A most welcome, and in truth long expected, letter from Derbyshire caused her to coo and sigh and stuff it into her pocket.

“Oh, Eliza,” she smiled, “how you must scold me! I have been neglecting you most shamefully considering how I long to talk to you about . . . everything!”

She thought she heard a noise in the hall and she quickly worked her way down the pile until she came to a small envelope, marked in a masculine hand that she also recognised very well.

“‘Lord Baugham of Clyne Cottage’,” she read and pulled her ear lobe in confusion.

It was so obviously Dr McKenna’s writing and judging from its place in the pile it had been received some time ago. She sighed. This must have to do with the talk between he and his lordship about her work. She had put the subject out of her mind, not wanting to be a quarrelsome wife, but honestly, Dr McKenna’s business was with her and her husband should not insist on interfering unduly.

She turned the letter and slipped a finger beneath the seal to break it open. In any case, it concerned her and she was determined to set aside some time for Elizabeth very soon so she might as well use some of that time for Dr McKenna as well. The seal snapped open but at just that moment she heard her husband’s steps in the hall. However much she missed Elizabeth and however much she knew she owed the doctor her attention, it was nothing to the fact that she had not seen or touched her husband in . . . oh, at least a quarter of an hour! An indecent amount of time on one’s honeymoon, really. Holly stuffed Dr McKenna’s note into her pocket to lie next to that of her cousin’s and flew out the door to catch him on his way to dinner.

T
HE OTHERWISE QUIET AND UNOBTRUSIVE
Mr McLaughlin apparently had amazing powers of persuasion when it came to drainage issues, for Holly found herself alone at breakfast the next morning after her husband airily told her he just needed to sort a few things out before he joined her. Holly decided that, as going down for meals appeared to be the new way of things; she would gladly take advantage of this new order and give her cousin some long overdue attention.

Pemberley
Derbyshire

My dearest, dearest cousin

I know. You must be inundated with appeals to accept congratulations, smug referrals to your past indiscretions and misjudgements, not to mention reminders of the many very, very good friends you have though you can scarce remember their names, because I certainly am. So, I must send you a different kind of letter because I am getting quite enamoured with being so exceptional and pandered to in my new most respected state.

I trust you are as happy as can be imagined because that will surely help my case. And yes, dear Holly, I most certainly have a case! First of all I must assure you that it is quite serious. Then, when I have made you snap out of your blissful dreamy-eyed state and accustomed smile at “that silly Eliza and her insistence upon such dramatics in her letters” I will relent and tell you that I am well, Mr Darcy is purring like a cat in his wellness and is both kind and attentive to me, Pemberley is beautiful and that everything is as well as can be expected. Yes, expected. You see, it turns out a great deal is expected here and that has given me some cause for alarm.

I have always known my education was scanty and lacks-a-daisy at best, but I struggled by quite well and been very happy in my state of semi-literacy, yet now I must admit that too much knowledge is not always a bad thing. How could my mother have failed to prepare me for what is needed to be a great Mistress of a great House in such a shameful manner? In fact, when I think about it (and Mrs Reynolds, our formidable housekeeper, unwittingly shows me every day), I have not been prepared for anything like the running of a great estate! It is shameful, Holly, and I am barely struggling by with all that is expected of me in the face of amazing patience and guidance from both the wonderful Mrs Reynolds and my marvellous husband. He tells me he did not marry me for my housekeeping skills and that he does not care that I have so much to yet learn, but the truth of the matter is, my dearest Holly, I cannot bear to fail him in this because of his justified pride in his estate, his house, his family and his duties. He does care, you see, and it makes me quite ashamed to see him put that aside because he cares a little more for me.

And it is not only my shameful performance in the manner of estate business and bookkeeping that has me in such a state—Holly, did you ever hear about a Candlemas Presentation? Well, of course you have, but that has no doubt been thanks to a most diligent Sunday School teacher and a good memory, but did you ever hear about such a thing for the Mistress of Pemberley?! Well, I should think not but now you have and it is absolutely true. Just like the baby Jesus on his proud mother’s arm, I am to be presented to ‘my’ congregation here on the proud arm of my beloved husband. It is quite the tradition, I am told. It is as it has always been and will always be. At Candlemas, any new Mistress of Pemberely is inaugurated and there is no getting away from it. At this point I am abandoning all pretence of pride and flattery at the attention because I am informed a simple thanks is not enough. No, the good people of the estate—and beyond!—expect a full winter revel and public day of it afterwards! The estate of Pemberley at its most glorious, hospitable and splendid! And all this on the 31st of this month! Oh, had I only insisted on a summer wedding! It makes me quite angry to think of my adamant refusal of Mr Darcy last Easter! Think of all the time I could have used in preparation had I just been wiser than my usual self!

There. Can you see how I can be so happy and so miserable at the same time and all for the same cause? I want to make him proud and I want to be the best that I can be for him and for Pemberley, which I already love as much as I could ever love bricks and stones in any form, but with so much to learn, and then be expected to host such a great event and in mere weeks! I shudder. I tremble. I lay awake at night and walk restlessly in the woods. I long for my dear Holly. You would know what to do, wouldn’t you? Or at least where to begin?

Holly stopped in her reading when her cousin, with frantic cheerfulness, moved on to describe other, more reassuring aspects of her life, and stared down at the end of the letter.

Yours, quite desperately,
Eliza

W
HILE
H
OLLY READ,
M
RS
M
C
L
AUGHLIN
brought in platter after platter of breakfast foods. Torn between hunger and the feeling that she ought to at least wait a little for his lordship to return before starting, Holly stirred more sugar into her cup and turned again to Elizabeth’s letter. The poor thing sounded overwhelmed and she thanked Providence that there was no such tradition in the Cumbermere household. She abandoned the letter on the table and waited impatiently, drumming her fingers on the laden table and eyeing the steaming platters of meats and breads. Thankfully it was not long before familiar steps were heard outside the door and her husband made his appearance, his face breaking out in a wide smile when he saw her.

“Finally!” she said, springing out of the chair to meet him. “I am starved.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her before she had time to utter another word. “Me too,” he muttered as he placed kisses all along her neck and ear. “Mm . . . most definitely good enough to eat . . . ”

She snorted a little and pushed him at arms length.

“Well, I am famished and you have kept me waiting, so I am not impressed by flattery or pretty behaviour, only rolls, cheese, ham and preserves. Oh, and coffee. I must have more coffee! What about you?”

He held on to her hands and pulled her with him down onto the chair she had vacated.

“Now, Lady Baugham,” he said teasingly, “who’s to say that you cannot have it all: flattery, pretty words, food
and
coffee on such a perfect morning? And who’s to say that if that all doesn’t satisfy you, you might not have dessert after all of that?”

“Mmm . . . ” she said, nuzzling in his ear, “I do love dessert.”

She slipped off his lap, took the chair next to him, and began to fill her plate. “But first I must eat.”

He stretched his legs under the table and leaned back in his chair, smiling as he watched her finish her share of Mrs McLaughlin’s excellent breakfast. Despite his initial reluctance, the promise of fresh air and outdoor activity in the guise of a small agricultural crisis had done him good. Now all he needed was to fill his stomach to feel refreshed, awake, and bright after so many days of admittedly very pleasant indolence and idleness.

“So what are you going to attend to now when the stables and ditches are all done?” she asked, looking up as she popped the last morsel of bread into her mouth.

He had by no means finished his own meal, but he reached out, took her hand and pulled her back to her former place on his lap. “Funny you should ask, since I’ve been pondering that very question.” The grin on his face broadened and he quickly slipped his arms around her waist.

“Somehow,” she smiled, “that does not surprise me.”

“This might,” he took the coffee cup from her hand and put it on the table. “I thought, perhaps it might be a nice idea, in honour of your new position, for you to go for a walk and survey your extensive new grounds while I labour nearby to do it justice.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Now? You mean I should accompany you?” She could feel him smiling against her neck without interrupting his pursuits. “Is it . . . Do you
expect
me to?”

“No-o . . . ” he said slowly. “Not if you had rather wait for me indoors. It’s just a little problem behind the stables that I thought I need to take a look at but if you had rather not . . . ”

Just then the door opened and Mrs McLaughlin entered. Holly gasped, sprang up in embarrassment at being caught in such an undignified posture and stood beside her husband’s chair, reclaiming her coffee cup and taking a deep sip. Her husband gave the housekeeper a frown, which she returned with equal measure as she gathered the empty dishes from the table and proceeded to briskly remove the tablecloth and covers.

“What’s this?” he said, holding up her discarded letter.

“Oh.” Holly took another reassuring sip from an already practically empty cup and then moved to top it up before Mrs McLaughlin had time to sweep the coffee pot away, too. “A letter from Elizabeth.”

She moved around him to pour the remains of the pot in his cup. He dangled the loose sheets in front of her with a wry smile and when Mrs McLaughlin’s back was conveniently turned, she scooped down very quickly to claim it and kiss his mouth. He grasped at her but she was too quick and under his pouting countenance she scooted behind him.