Scotch and Sirens

Chapter Twenty Eight

 

Mrs. Tournier saw the two guests out and sat down by her writing desk. As Lizzy turned around, she reached out her hand and made her come up to her and take it.

“Lizzy,” she said, “you must think me overdoing this preoccupation with keeping you busy, but I have a favour to ask of you. Take one of your walks down to the post and enquire after letters for us. I must own it is very discomforting to suspect I have let my daughter go off to a woman who keeps her from informing her mother of her wellbeing. Or perhaps you, as a connoisseur of London, can tell me if there is really such a risk of forgetting simple duties only because Town is so much more fascinating than a mother’s needs.

“ Take Monsieur with you if you please. I need some peace and quiet.”

Vian inclined his head to Mrs. Tournier and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Ma Tantine, always so thoughtful.” Facing Elizabeth, he added, “Indeed, I should not agree that you go alone, Mademoiselle Bennet.”

“Aunt, I am sure that Holly has written with more news by now. All of the sights of London would not allow her to neglect you. Yet I am happy to go and see if something is waiting. Monsieur Vian, I will just get my mantle and meet you at the front door.”

She went upstairs on her errand. She did not mind walking with company, but a little part of her knew she would miss her solitary strolls while he was here. Having company would take from those moments she so liked to use to gather her thoughts. Arriving in the entry hall, they set out together for the second time that day.

They headed towards town, wandering along in silence for some time, but when they started onto the main road Vian decided to make some enquiries to better decipher in what direction Miss Bennet’s romantic inclinations lay.

“Are the gentlemen often guests at Rosefarm?”

“They have been there but a few times.”

“I was under the impression that the acquaintance was of more substance than that.”

She glanced curiously at him and raised her eyebrows in question. “What do you mean of more substance? As opposed to what, Monsieur, eight visits rather than two or three would imply a better friendship?”

“You have a good point. I suppose one cannot judge substance by the number of visits one makes or receives,” he smiled slightly, entertained by what he took to be her evasive answer. “I had only assumed that you knew them well, and well acquainted people tend to visit each other often.”

“I had never met Lord Brougham before this trip to Scotland. Mr. Darcy, however, was already an acquaintance of mine. Both gentlemen rendered help to Mrs. Tournier one day when she was stranded, you see. That was when we both realised the other was in Scotland.”

“I see. Then what a fortunate coincidence that you found one another.”

“Yes, it was.”

He thought he caught a rather wistful smile gracing her countenance but could not be quite sure of it.

“I should think you will benefit as well from two friends having found each other here, Monsieur Vian, for it will give you opportunity for some male companionship, which I am sure you will appreciate very much after spending many more days with only females.”

She picked a flower that was growing wild at the side of the path. “May I ask how you found their company?”

“They are both very fine gentlemen. Although I am sure I could never have enough of the company of such a charming lady as yourself, I would not be against the thought of spending some time with those two men as well. Pray, tell me, how did you meet Mr. Darcy.”

“He came to Hertfordshire in the company of a friend who was letting a house in my neighbourhood. We first met at an assembly. His friend, in fact, is now recently engaged to my elder sister.”

“I owe you my congratulations then,” Vian inclined his head and smiled. “I hope your sister’s fiancé is as fine a man as his friend. Judging from Mr. Darcy’s position the match must have been also a prudent one for your sister.”

“Mr. Bingley is not half as wealthy as Mr. Darcy, but I am happy to say that she found not only a prudent match but one of love as well.”

“Indeed? All the better!”

Vian, who had briefly wondered why one gentleman was willing to marry one of the sisters while the other preferred to adhere to less decent arrangements, now had his answer. While the passions of the gentleman seemed fierce, his wealth would certainly prevent him from such an imprudent match, but it would allow him to easily arrange circumstances tempting enough for a young lady of little means and perhaps a bit too innocent heart.

“Pray, since you know him so well, tell me your impression of Mr. Darcy. What kind of man is he?”

She smiled to herself, suddenly remembering the conversation between them at the Steeles about how she would describe him to others. She almost responded that Mr. Darcy was certainly more than the sum of his grounds, but she quickly stifled the errant impulse.

“He is quiet and thoughtful, especially when he does not know someone well, but he is a very good and kind man who holds himself to high standards, Monsieur Vian. He takes great care of his friends and would sacrifice anything if they were in need. He is a very loyal friend indeed. I think once you get to know him you will like him as well as I do. In fact, I am sure that you will.”

Vian smiled to her cordially, “I am certain I will then. It seems that you, Mademoiselle, have managed to break past his quietness and have come to know him very well. What does one need to do to become so well acquainted with the gentleman?”

She laughed at this. His questions often surprised her and had such an effect.

“Why, Monsieur Vian, I do not think there is a magic formula for getting to know anyone! I would think you would have plenty of experience with being friendly in your travels. Otherwise you must have been lonely indeed. Tell me, were you spending your time in solitary confinement, or did you make a few friends along the way?”

He listened to her with curiosity and decided to press her further.

“Mademoiselle Bennet, I am certain you understand my meaning. Of course I did make many new friends along the way, but from what I understand, Mr. Darcy is not really open with strangers, and it is not so easy to further the acquaintance. I assume you two have had much more experience together than just casual social meetings here and there.”

She did not know how to understand him or to answer. She was certainly not willing to share the details of each of their meetings with Monsieur Vian.

“We have known each other for a while, and we have met socially always. That is how one gets to know someone, through such engagements, is it not? You and I are walking together and getting acquainted while we do so. It was the same with Mr. Darcy.”

“Why, Mademoiselle Bennet, there are certainly many advantages to be derived from long walks and a love for nature.

“So you said before that you hardly ride. What a pity. You might visit many more charming places in the neighbourhood on horseback. But as I said earlier, I will be happy to remove that little obstacle since you are being so kind as to help me improve my piano skills. Tell me, is Lord Brougham a good rider?”

Since she did not really want to go riding with anyone but Mr. Darcy, she did not address his suggestion at improving her skills on a horse.

“I would assume so, Monsieur, but I would not know how good he is. I have never ridden with him, although I have seen him ride by, and he seemed to do well enough. He did not fall off or anything of the sort.” She laughed. “Would you like to go riding with Lord Brougham?”

“Oh yes, I hope to, he invited me to join them on their hunting expedition. I guess it will also be an opportunity to become better acquainted with Mr. Darcy. Tell me, what kind of a horse does that gentleman have, Mademoiselle Bennet?”

“He rides a rather large white one. I think it would be called a stallion, but I do not know enough about horses to tell you the breed. Why do you ask, Mr. Vian? Is the type of horse important in a hunting expedition?”

“Why yes, of course it is, especially when one might have to chase down one’s prey should a chase ensue. Does he ride well? I am sure you must have seen him on horseback on many occasions.”

“Why yes. He rides very well from what I have observed. You need have no fears. I am sure his horse and his riding will both present no problems in a hunt. He has gone shooting many times in his life. He would know how to equip himself, Monsieur Vian.” She looked at him curiously. “I must say, I never knew that hunting could be so complicated.”

They soon arrived at their destination where, upon entering the premises, Lizzy found that she had been right. There was a letter waiting for her aunt. After collecting it they began their journey back to Rosefarm Cottage.

“Pray, Mademoiselle Bennet, you have been here for many weeks now. Have you had time to become acquainted with any other gentlemen?”

“Mrs. Tournier hosted one dinner and we also attended a small ball elsewhere. I did meet a few people there, but we have not had the pleasure of the company of anyone other than Lord Brougham and Mr. Darcy since.

“You are perhaps looking for other hunting partners, Monsieur Vian? I am sorry to say that I have only a vague notion of whom else to recommend to you. A neighbour or two possibly might suit. Yet if you are concerned that your social circle will be limited while you are here, I am afraid I have to confirm your fears. The area does not provide as many opportunities for socialising as you are probably used to. You may find you will wish to cut your stay short.”

“I am certain I will not. Please, be assured that I am very pleased with the social opportunities available to me here. But since I have arrived not so very long ago, I think you will understand I would simply like to have a better picture of things – hence my questions. Pray, believe me, I do not judge, Mademoiselle Bennet, I am very far from it. I am just trying to apprise myself of the situation. I thank you very much for the information you have provided. Maybe I can return the same favour. Is there anything you would like to ask of me?”

“I would hope that I did not convey the message that you would judge, Monsieur Vian. I would just have you know that it is quieter here than other places might be, in case you were unaware of it. And you certainly owe me no favour for my simply answering your questions. You may ask anything of me you wish.”

He grinned at this last remark, her meaning perfectly clear to him. “I assure you the sentiment is mutual. I am at your disposal should you have any requests to make of me.”

They turned from the road to a path across a field.

“I would be very interested in hearing about Terre Neuve.”

“Oh, le Chateau de Terre Neuve is simply charming, as well as Fontenay-le-Comte in general. You see, my mother descends from les Comte du Poitou, who established the town in the middle ages. Since the area is so strongly based on my family’s history and, well, we of course had some problems because of the Revolution and even the town had been renamed for some time to Fontenay-le-Peuple, and now my mother remains the only heir, it was essential that my parents chose the place for their main estate. Well, actually the whole Poitou region used to belong to my family. Happily our town provides a very good education, so I was able to spend much more time with my family than is normally the case for young Counts. The food is just magnifique. We live close enough to the sea to have fresh supplies of les fruits de mer as often as we wish…”

The memories made him smile longingly as he continued to speak at some length about the beauties of his home. He painted a captivating picture for her and she could both see and hear how much he loved it.

“… And there are many forests around. I am sure you will enjoy partaking of them in your walks there.”

His use of the future tense, made her realise how much he must miss his home and might wish he were walking there now instead of here.

“Perhaps someday I might have the pleasure of experiencing your country. I am sure I would enjoy it very much. It sounds like a lovely place to have grown up.

“But, pray sir, have we not been incorrect in our addressing you as Monsieur instead of by your title?”

Vian smiled broadly. No, Mademoiselle, you are only following my wishes. One day I will marry and assume all the responsibilities of a Comte, landlord, husband and father. It is inevitable. Perhaps one who aspired to the tile and obtained it with no little effort would be more preoccupied with its import, but I have known my rights to it all of my life, and for now I simply enjoy my freedom and my right to be myself rather than a figure in society’s pattern.”

“Is the thought of losing your freedom so unpleasant then?” she mused.

“No, it is not.” He smiled cordially again. “Not with a right lady at my side. I do not take my time out of unwillingness to commit, but out of sensibility and of comprehending the import of the choice. My parents’ match is a very happy one, you see. The hardship of recent involvements in France, and their joint effort in facing it, only affirmed to me how much more valuable character is than any other merits.”

They walked on while they talked, and he told her more details of his home, friends and family, and asked similar questions of her in return, until they arrived back at Rosefarm Cottage.

 

 

Once inside, Vian excused himself and Lizzy went to find her aunt in the parlour. She handed her the letter with a grin. “You see, Holly is not so overcome with the sights and sounds of London that she would not write her concerned mother. She is sensible after all!”

She turned to leave, thinking her aunt might like some privacy with her daughter’s written thoughts, but Mrs. Tournier stopped her from going.

“Lizzy, do you not think that Holly is quite an accomplished young lady?”

Reminded of a distant conversation relating to accomplished women, she smiled and replied, “Yes, I think she paints and nets purses quite well.”

Mrs. Tournier rolled her eyes at her niece. “Is that your picture of it, Lizzy? That a woman is deemed accomplished as long as she can paint and net purses?”

Enjoying herself now, thinking her aunt only baited her to further the discussion on the topic, she responded teasingly with a longer list that she knew for certain her aunt would not approve of. She quoted Miss Bingley with an impish gleam in her eye. “Certainly there is more. In addition to those talents she must also have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.”

Mrs. Tournier was having none of her playful answer, or simply had no patience for it, for her reply was in a serious tone that left no room for the idle banter that Lizzy thought was in the offing.

“That is not what I meant, Lizzy, and I think you know it. Do not tell me that your sole view of an accomplished woman contains such drivel? Your parents could not have failed you so much that you would not see the import of there being more to a young lady?”

Without waiting for a reply, or even glancing Lizzy’s way, Mrs. Tournier sighed heavily, “Lizzy, I see you have your work cut out for you if that is your vision and all you strive for. You may not always have what you do now you know. In fact it is a certainty that you will not, for things can and do change quite suddenly. I know of what I speak.”

Arabella paused for a moment, not having meant to say quite that or to have her point hit so close to her own home and hearth, she had also not meant it to sound as harsh as it had come out.

“I am sorry, my dear, if I seem to be more serious than you would think appropriate for the delivery of a simple letter from a daughter. Let us please just contribute it to a mother missing her loved one. I am quite proud of Holly, as you well know. She has helped support the both of us for some years now. I have always admired her willingness to learn whatever skills were needed in order to help out, as well as to make herself a well-rounded woman suited for any eventuality, even my own demise. She is very versatile in her abilities and sensible in her choices. I only wish the same self-sufficiency for you.”

Lizzy did not know how to respond, for the conversation had certainly taken a very serious turn, and she could not miss that it had more to do with her aunt’s view of herself than it did with her question about Holly. It was likely she would never learn what exactly had transpired between Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Tournier in their talk earlier today, but it was clear that her aunt had not drawn any hope from it and meant to warn her that she should not hold out any either. It was clear that Mrs. Tournier saw her as an old maid and thought her ill prepared for a future without a husband or a father who would provide support. And what could Lizzy say in response to that exactly? There was very little, for it was all true. She had no current prospects, soon she would be getting too old to be seriously considered as a marriage partner, and she did not have any useful skills that would suit when the need came for it – and the need surely would come.

And yet her aunt sat there waiting for her to say something.

“Both you and Holly are very fortunate that you have each other. I did not mean to imply that Holly was not accomplished by my silly banter, for you know how highly I think of her. Of course a woman would do well to aspire to be as self-sufficient as she is.

“You must miss her severely... Perhaps you would like to see what she has to say to a mother she most likely misses just as much? I should leave you to it…”

Her aunt gave a soft but audible sigh. “Yes, perhaps you might go and write your cousin yourself while I read and prepare a reply for her. You can then take them both to the post in the morning during your walk with Monsieur Vian.”

Lizzy gratefully returned to her room. She knew her aunt meant well, but what she had said was hardly helpful. She tried to put it from her mind, but her thoughts only strayed to Longbourn and Jane. How she wished she had her sister here to make her laugh at herself. Perhaps it was time to think of going home, and yet she could hardly entertain the thought. How could she leave things as they now stood with Mr. Darcy without giving the wrong impression? He should not think that she ran away from him.

Sitting down to write the letter to Holly, she found herself at a loss for words. There was so much to tell and yet nothing she would wish to share. She supposed she could tell Holly of Monsieur Vian's staying with them, and that she has been missed. She picked up her quill and began absentmindedly running its feather back and forth across her cheek.

 

 

The gentlemen rode in silence for some time after leaving the tea at Rosefarm. Darcy, lost deep in his thoughts, did not encourage any conversation. Finally he sighed and asked, “How do you find Monsieur Vian?”

Brougham gave him a quick glimpse and then returned his gaze to the road ahead.

“I find him interesting. I find him intelligent but not ambitious, pleasant but not amiable and social but not engaging. On the basis of one conversation, mind you.”

Darcy did not immediately answer, and Brougham’s thoughts wandered as they approached the next crossing. On the side of the road was an inn. The Caledonian Thistle, the colourful plate hanging in the breeze informed them. Brougham halted his horse and leaned over his saddle.

“Damn if all that tea has not made me thirsty! What about you?”

Darcy gave the inn a glimpse. “I think you are right. Let us go in.”

The two gentlemen left their horses with the ostler and entered the establishment. It was a respectable inn, but not too generous in the height of its ceiling and they were obliged to remove their hats so as not to risk them touching the beams that were blackened from centuries of soot. The taproom was a fair size and beyond it was a coffee room. The Landlord could also boast of a few simple but clean rooms and even a private apartment upstairs. He came towards them as he noticed the obvious quality that had seen fit to grace his establishment. It was by no means a busy afternoon, but a few farmers were making an appearance in the middle of harvest season, and another few seemed to be permanently attached to the fixtures.

“Well, hello there, Robertson!” Brougham cheerfully greeted him. “It has been a while, what? Now, we have just been to tea with some delightful ladies and a Frenchman, so it is imperative that you provide us with two tankards or your best ale on the double, for the thirst is killing us!”

The landlord, seemingly of a quiet but friendly disposition, shuffled off to fulfil his Lordship’s pleasure as the gentlemen looked around them and removed gloves and deposited their hats. Soon enough, the man came back and put down two large pints of lukewarm brew in front of them, and Brougham lost no time in proposing a toast.

“Darcy,” he solemnly said, “to the recuperation required after a polite tea party!”

Darcy smiled and raised his tankard. The liquid smoothed Darcy’s pains, which were still reminding him of yesterday’s evening overindulgence.

They sat for a while in amiable silence, broken by occasional conversation, both emptying their tankards several times. They discussed old times and old infatuations, and laughed at the reminiscence of an adventure Brougham had had involving a duel over a woman.

The room began to feel very mellow to Brougham, and it seemed the clientele had picked up the noise. The inn was warm and the ale was quite exceptional. The world seemed a pretty good place at the moment and the landlord a very nice fellow.

“So, am I presuming correctly your plans to stay in Scotland are of some duration?”

“Yes, of course they are,” Darcy answered, but only after draining his tankard. “Have you determined your plans?”

Brougham looked around, distracted by the tunes of a fiddle being played in the corner, his fingers began tapping in rhythm to the music.

Darcy smiled slightly, trying to determine his friend’s ability to partake in the conversation, he casually tossed out, “By the way, though I have not duelled before on behalf of a lady, I have in my plans a… duel of sorts.”

Brougham turned around at his friend’s curious words.

“A duel of sorts? Sounds intriguing. Or very silly. Either it is a duel or it is not. You should know the difference. We have been friends long enough for you to distinguish between what a real duel is and what is not. That is to say we certainly have tried all sorts of duels in our time. That silly golf game was one of the low points, surely. But was it a duel? Cheers!

“Oh, wait a minute… You mean you are going to fight a duel? Why? And when? I will not second you, you know. I am getting quite light headed, and the one good advice my father ever gave me when I was eight or so – I do not know what that was all about – was never to go within a mile of a duel if you are sloshed. Sound advice. It is the sort of thing you always get dragged into by mistake, and involuntarily if you have had a pint or two, I find.”

He suddenly groaned and put down his tankard a trifle too violently, splashing some of the contents over the bar. “Do not tell me it is over a woman!”

Darcy smiled sheepishly, “Why, it is a duel of sorts. If you choose to think it silly, you are probably right. Actually, I asked Mr. Vian to partake in the fencing competition. I was too annoyed by him not to ask. If we can call annoyance an offence, then it is a duel.”

“Ah yes, he mentioned that he would participate. Well, as long as there are no women. I will not do with any more women. They make no sense and disrupt normal life. In fact…”

Brougham took a few steps and pulled a stool closer to them. He climbed on top of it and raised his tankard. He swayed a little but managed to hold his balance long enough to solemnly declare, “I hereby banish troublesome females of all kind from my life. They are of no more consideration to me!”

A few amused individuals raised their glasses to him, smiled and mumbled, “Hear! Hear!” His descent from the stool was a little less dignified and he needed to steady himself at the bar so as not to cause a tumble.

“There!” he said, straightening his coat and waistcoat. “Peace at last! Good job. We need to drink to that, Darcy, to seal it.”

Darcy paid Brougham an amused look. “You know very well that I could easily disavow all women but one. But I can drink with you if you are certain you will not regret your decision”

“Aha!” His Lordship leaned towards his friend and poked his index finger into his chest. “Now, if you had paid attention you would have discerned I foreswore all troublesome women. Although, bearing in mind the stringent criteria I intend to impose on that statement, it leaves precious few affected, let me assure you. So, unless you find Miss Bennet troublesome, which I do not suppose you do despite her sharp tongue and wit, why do you not join me?

“Landlord! One more please! This accursed thirst plagues me yet, o unquenchable thirst of ale!”

Darcy took hold of his tankard. He did not raise it, but only spoke to Brougham.

“Since it is your pledge, it does not signify whom I find troublesome, but rather what your definition of it is. I am afraid that in your present wavering state of mind you can confuse troublesome with teasing, stirring and thought provoking. All the qualities I find quite charming.”

Brougham found this leaning at the bar most tiresome and suggested to his friend they sit down at one of the small tables by the window. Once there, he leaned over it towards his friend again and narrowed his eyes.

“Do not think I do not know you know I know whom you are referring to,” he said while he fished out the end of his neck cloth from the tankard. Casting an eye around the crowded room and catching sight of a waitress, he said to her, “My friend here would agree we have had music and ale, and it is too soon for brawls and sleep, so we must turn to poetry.”

He got up and raised his pint once again.

“Let me go first. This is to my most excellent friend Mr. Darcy, who has expressed a curious preference for impertinent women, which brings me to mind Mr. Pope’s words.

“‘Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all’”

The result of Brougham’s words on Darcy was not as expected, if Darcy had heard the words at all, for his stern look was turned outside the window and onto the road leading from town, where he could see Elizabeth and Mr. Vian walking by, engaged in an animated conversation.

Brougham turned his eyes to his friend.

“Darcy? What is the matter? Are you struck numb by the aptitude of poetry? I confess I am excessively fond of Pope and was quite surprised he had found no place on your person the other night. Anyway, I know you must have an appropriate retort concerning teasing females that drive men to distraction, or sirens or whatever. Come on. Let us hear it!”

He slowly turned to try and catch what Darcy found so fascinating, dropped his dwindling neck cloth in the ale once more and had to fish it out accompanied by a slurry oath.

“What the devil is behind that window? Is it the east, and Juliet is the sun?”

Darcy slowly tore his eye from the scene and looked at Brougham. “Maybe it would be better to untie your neck-cloth.”

Brougham stared at his friend. “Now what kind of poetry is that? Greek? Oh! You mean me!” He looked down at his shirtfront and his wildly unravelled neck cloth.

“Good Lord!” he laughed. “What an appalling spectacle! Oh, if they could only see me in London now! The Beau would have a fit! The boys at White’s would cry! I would be quite ruined. Now what a fascinating thought!”

He made the rescue of what was left of his elaborately tied neck cloth, his chief concern interrupted only by curious giggling sounds and snorts of laughter.

“There. Is that better? I think us men of fashion and our sophisticated habits worth a toast!”

They drained their tankards and Darcy gestured to order new ones. The ale was carried over by the young woman Brougham had spotted before. Clad in a loose, low cut dress revealing much of her ample bosom, she gave both gentlemen a wide smile in her quest to endear herself to them. Darcy rewarded her with a copious tip, too copious perhaps, as the woman felt encouraged enough to stay and keep them company. Darcy was looking the other way, so she sent Brougham a friendly wink, which the gentleman returned with a wide grin and an inviting gesture. Quickly taking the measure of both gentlemen, she chose the taller, darker one. Perhaps he did not seem as outwardly friendly as the other, but she had been watching them both for some time, and apart from noticing his very handsome features, she saw something in his eyes that made her sense great passion and caring under that cool facade. She moved her chair a bit closer to him.

Brougham smiled at her again through his half lidded eyes, but she dropped hers down timidly and glanced sideways at his friend, who was now looking out the window. Brougham took his old glass and poured some of his ale into it, offering the rest of his fresh one to the girl. She accepted it and started to drink in silence, waiting for the brooding gentlemen to look her way.

She was not normally this kind of girl, but as she watched his long lashes casting shadows over his countenance she was not at all against the idea of the gentleman turning his languid eyes her way and whispering sweet endearments into her ear. She could feel her breath quicken as she felt his close presence overwhelming her. The other gentleman sent her another lazy smile, but she wanted to make her preferences clear.

She shifted in her chair and leaned to his side, her arm barely brushing against his sleeve. She felt him stiffen although he still did not look her way. Perhaps he was not the inviting type, but was simply accustomed to women inviting him. That would not surprised her at all, as he was certainly worthy of the trouble, and judging from his expensive clothing there might be a fine reward involved if he chose to take her under his protection. Her hand slowly wandered under the table and to his knee. He took a sharp breath, and she slowly ran her fingers up his thigh.

Darcy startled, and still without looking at her he caught her hand in his and removed it gently. She felt his touch quite intoxicating and wished for more. The other gentleman winked and smiled a bit sheepishly, and then started to hum a melody and looked away, what she read as an understanding as well as encouragement for her continued quest of his friend.

Darcy now kept his arm hanging down along his side to better protect himself, silently cursing Brougham for putting him in this circumstance to begin with. He felt her fingers slightly rub against his palm, and so he withdrew it, and with a mischievous grin he turned to his company and raised his tankard.

“To beautiful women and those present here!”

Brougham appreciatively followed Darcy’s eyes, and gave her a brilliant smile.

“Yes, certainly to beautiful women! Beautiful eyes and beautiful smiles. Beautiful secrets and sweet beautiful natures…”

Darcy smirked at Brougham’s misreading of his toast. Nonetheless he was certain the woman understood, as she now blushed and excused herself hastily. Brougham wistfully looked after her as she left, and Darcy observed with amusement that his friend’s taste positively lost discernment in proportion with the amount of alcohol consumed. A quite innocuous shortcoming considering how fast Brougham’s other senses were losing their powers too.

“Oh blast! Women again! Darcy, you snake. I thought we decided to give them up. Or was it the poetry that betrayed our resolution? Which reminds me…or no, actually it does not. Here, that fellow over there is looking at us rather queerly. What is his game? It is not… it could not be…Is it?”

Darcy turned his head to see the man. “That is Mr. Tidwell, I believe, though I do not think we should join him if your mind is as little discerning as your tastes at the moment.”

To Darcy's surprise Brougham seemed to sober up for a moment as his eyes reflected coldly upon the man leaning at the bar, and his mouth distorted into a contemptuous sneer.

“Under no circumstances would I go within ten feet of that man tonight, Darcy. Besides him being a fiend and rouge, I am too drunk to plant him a facer or possibly even to kill him, which would be the only plausible reason for me to seek his company. Anything else would be completely beneath my dignity. Mr. Tidwell will have my undivided attention some day, but this is not it.”

Darcy's surprise was evident. “Brougham, what are you talking about? You have met the man just once. Is it not a bit too soon to come to such harsh conclusions?”

Brougham gave such a violent snort at this display of naiveté that he had to take out his handkerchief to repair some of the damage to his appearance.

“Yes, well, sometimes one encounter is all that is needed to establish a person's character to his detriment. No more so than when that person takes the burden of proof on himself through words and conduct and proves beyond a shadow of a doubt to be a deeply dishonourable, not to mention tiresome, person. Anyway, his character has since been confirmed by a few inquiries made on my behalf by Mr. McLaughlin. It would not
surprise me were Tidwell here to do his business – the despicable man.”

Brougham seemed to be on the verge of continuing but hesitated and lifted his ale to his lips for a long drink instead.

“But that conversation is perhaps best continued at a later and more private hour…”

Since Tidwell noticed that they were looking at him, Darcy nodded his head to recognise his acquaintance.

“As you wish, Brougham. I certainly would like to know more.”

Brougham seemed lost in thought and stared out the window, just like his friend had a moment ago. He smiled and found it made his head feel very heavy, so he had to support it with one hand and lean his elbow on the table.

“Scotland is very fine, is it not? Now do you understand why I come here? And why I never socialise? You know, my friend, though I hardly ever see you in the mornings and we quarrel over stupid things like women and golf and grouse, I am very glad you came. So very, very, very, very glad. And since I am an English gentleman, I cannot put my earnest sentiments any more plainly than that.”

Darcy looked at his not so sober friend. “Yes, I can see that. Do you not think it is time then to stop socialising for today and return home?”

“Home? Oh yes, home. Yes, I suppose you are right. It would be a damned nuisance if I could not make it by horse and you had to send Mr. McLaughlin with the cart, now would it not? I think I will stick my head under the pump outside and I will be just fine.

“You are such a good friend Darcy. You know that, of course? Because you truly are. Well, sometimes you are unbelievably stubborn and quiet and unyielding, but in all honesty that really has no bearing on my regard for you, you know. So, before we go…no, no, I insist, a toast to you!”

The angle Brougham was using to try and pour the rest of the ale into his mouth while still supporting his head on his hand at the same time was not entirely successful, and his neck cloth was indeed beyond saving. That fact merely had the result of making him laugh, and he cheerfully saluted his neighbours.

Darcy drank one for the road with Brougham and then approached the bar to pay for their drinks. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Tidwell in conversation with another man. The stranger hushed his voice upon seeing Darcy's gaze. Darcy nodded his farewell to Tidwell and went to join Brougham, who was already waiting outside the inn.

They arrived at Clyne twenty minutes later. The fresh air had had a good effect on Brougham, who even started to come up with new ideas for the rest of their evening. Darcy ordered coffee to the library and seated himself on a sofa opposite his friend.

“Brougham, is it private enough in here for you to share your observations about Tidwell?”

Brougham, slightly worn out by his sudden exposure to fresh air, a hearty riding pace and very strong coffee, rubbed his eyes and put up his feet.

“Mr. Tidwell. Well, it appears Mr. Tidwell is not all what he presents himself to be. The epitaph of a gentleman sits singularly ill with him since Mr. McLaughlin informs me he is involved in some business dealings through an associate of his by the name of Mr. Gordon that leaves desperate men even more desperate and lines his pocket with usury gold. Were that all, I might not give him a second thought, for he will get what is coming to him one of these days, but he also enjoys intimidating young respectable women by threatening them and casting doubt on their reputation in public. What his precise motive for doing this is I have yet to discover, and perhaps I never will, but he certainly is more than a crossed lover intent on revenge, or I should say that that description is far from any truth and so he must have some other reason for his unbecoming actions.”

Darcy listened to the news with a frown.

“If your information is true, it should not be left unattended. Such a man may be dangerous to society. I mean the money aspect of course. The other issue referring to the lady seems even more abhorrent. Pray, may I ask, who she is?”

Brougham fiddled with his shirtfront, now left curiously bare by the discarding of the drenched neck cloth.

“Miss Tournier.” When he lifted his head to meet Darcy's eyes, he was grinning. “Oh, go on! Laugh at me! But I happened to be in her company at the Steeles when Tidwell blurted out all these ridiculous accusations and hateful claims. She was quite distraught, I might tell you. Shocked. It was… quite distressing. So, naturally, I took an interest in the matter and offered my protection. Would you be very surprised if I told you she accepted
it?” He laughed. “That perhaps is the appropriate illustration of how at a disadvantage his remarks put her.”

Darcy composed himself.

“Naturally, you offered your protection. Yet, she did not accept your offer of the carriage, pretty much putting you down to the level of Tidwell in her estimation. I assume it must have been truly distressing, indeed.”

Brougham stifled a yawn and shifted his weight in the chair only to sink further down.

“Miss Tournier's good name is under my protection now, would you believe it, and apart from myself being the obvious cause for her discomfort I have pledged to tolerate none other.”

Darcy smiled and rose to head for his chamber.

“Very well then. I think we have had enough of Mr. Tidwell for one evening, and I guess the comfort of having Miss Tournier's confidence will suffice your self-esteem for the night.

“Sleep well, Brougham.”

 

 

Darcy slowly shed the layers of his clothes while pondering the latest revelations. He had been wondering about Brougham’s attitude to Miss Tournier for some time now. At first it was because he did not wish for any problems between Elizabeth’s family and a friend of his, but lately it had been because Brougham’s agitation with the lady seemed to be continuing. Now this whole matter appeared to clarify it.

It had been many months now since Darcy had started to ponder the nature of love. Every man had that something they were looking for in a woman. Darcy could well recall how many of his friends stepped into traps. A majority of them in their collage years - cunning parents, misread infatuations, secret engagements.

Happily none of his closest friends fell into that catch. Fitzwilliam was determined to marry into money, Bingley thanks to Darcy’s protection, and Brougham because of some kind of paralysis at the thought of establishing a family. Himself? Today the answer seemed simple – he had not known Elizabeth then.

However, each of them had some weaknesses, and that of Brougham was of a peculiar kind. Being the son of a dishonourable, hazardous, fallen aristocrat, Brougham’s life quest had been to prove himself a knight in every sense of the word. He was nothing but chivalrous, humble, loyal, courteous and merciful. While Darcy felt highly responsible for everyone who depended on him, Brougham felt responsible for the entire world. With all his life his friend had endeavoured to confirm himself worthy of shining armour.

But the damsels in distress often proved to be his weak point. Usually a harmless one, since Brougham was highly skilful in solving their troubles, and as soon as he saw the gratitude and appreciation in their eyes his quest was over and so was his interest. However, with a lady who’s difficulties continued, and one who refused to recognise Brougham’s worth, things might look differently to him…

Darcy stopped to muse upon the merits of such an attachment. Brougham was not very rich, but not poor either. For the lady it might be much more than she could have expected, but Brougham’s needs were not extravagant. Although not prudent, the match could still be founded on those premises.

Darcy sat on the window’s sill, clad only in his shirt, and leaned his head against the window frame. Try as hard as he might, he could not see any other advantages to the affection if the monetary one should be considered so at all.

True, there would probably be some strenuous tension between the two keeping Brougham on his toes as long as the lady would not surrender under his charms and avow her defeat in the face of his credits. However tempting that thought might be, it was far from the real needs of his friend.

Perhaps not fully recognised by the man himself, his most yearning want was that of a family. A real, strong family - a rock for Brougham’s very being. As inadequate to the task as he himself was, the more Brougham needed a woman who could stand up to the need herself. Darcy knew perhaps better than his friend himself that some people in Brougham’s life, such as Mrs. McLaughlin for instance, were more the members of the man’s family than anyone else.

Every woman could find herself in distress from time to time, and each of them could bother his friend more than he wished, but Brougham’s wife should be strong, stable, selfless, consequent and supportive, and on top of that, warm, loving and giving. A humorous, capricious wife would only give his friend a match filled with quarrels and tension. To constantly be at odds only to make up in between was not the makings of a strong foundation.

Darcy sighed heavily. That his friend was in a considerable danger seemed rather obvious, and under normal circumstances he would suggest to him that they leave the country. Not this time, however. There were two important reasons, and both were named Elizabeth. He would not leave her now, and she would not forgive him if he intervened between her relative and his friend once again. No, the course of things should be left to itself.

Darcy looked out the half opened window, trying to cool his thoughts in the waves of rattled wind, but soon the whispering branches of greenery brought more pleasant answers. His thoughts were carried by the Old Wives’ summer air across the glens and forests to Elizabeth – the very woman who was both his weakness and his strength.

 

 

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