Twixt Two Equal Armies by Gail McEwen, Tina Moncton Page B

toes. “The way you do it, it is very enjoyable.”
    Elizabeth caught her aunt’s stern eyes upon her. “Well, perhaps I do him wrong. The way we have been abusing young men among us lately I suppose I should show mercy and call him ‘very agreeable.’ After all, if you decide to accept him one day I shall have to endure that and more, and might even come to treasure him as someone who at least openly appreciates your virtues and good character as he should.”
    “Oh, he is not so bad, I suppose,” Holly sighed. “I might have been a little hasty in portraying him to you in such a ridiculous light. Although you must admit it would be hard to be happy with a man who possesses such an extensive knowledge of the poetry of Blake.”
    “And who is so eager to let Mr Blake or Lord Byron speak for him on every occasion!” Elizabeth laughed . “ She walks in beauty like the night . . . ”
    But she got no further before Holly held up her slipper in a threatening manner and Mrs Tournier sat down on the sofa beside her with a thump.
    “Girls, the hour is late! Spare me, simply show me mercy and spare me. I want no more of this speculation on Mr Grant’s hidden virtues. And you, Elizabeth, must stop encouraging him in living out his ridiculousness.”
    “That is what you must expect, Aunt, if your guest list includes so few attractive young men. Aside from Mr Grant and Sir John’s handsome doctor friend, why, one would think you mean to encourage Holly in her quest to avoid men. It’s a pity you could not invite Mr Jon — ” She was stopped mid-utterance by the strong grip of Holly’s hand on her arm.
    Mrs Tournier stood up and straightened her back. “I am exhausted,” she said, tight-lipped and looking far from tired. “Goodnight.”
    “Oh dear,” Elizabeth said as soon as the door closed behind her. “I hope I did not say something amiss.”
    “Maman does not care for Mr Jonathan Pembroke,” Holly said quietly. “That is all.” She stood up then and began gathering the leftover food from the scattered trays around the room. Elizabeth moved to help her despite Holly’s protests.
    “I am not a guest, dear Holly, I am family and I must earn my keep,” she teased. “I would not have my visit send you to the poorhouse.”
    “It will do no such thing, Eliza!” Holly said, cheering up immediately. She dropped the platter she carried onto the sofa before dancing over to the fireplace to stoke the last of the dying embers. “I have a commission to make colour plates for Sir John Ledwich’s latest treatise! And the distant promise of another. The handsome Dr McKenna is bringing round the manuscript and sketches Monday morning. I can start straight away!”
    She twirled around a few times more, to her cousin’s delight.
    Elizabeth stopped as well, picking up the piece of paper she had been using as a fan.
    “Well, I shall freely admit I understand nothing of what he proposes for you to do. ‘Connected valves in triangular positions . . . ’ It is very impressive, though. How shall you find the time with your obligations at Hockdown?”
    Holly stopped abruptly. “I’m not going back to Hockdown,” she said calmly.
    Elizabeth looked stunned. “You are not? But . . . why?”
    Elizabeth pulled Holly down to sit beside her on the sofa and searched her face with a worried frown.
    “Holly,” she said. “What happened?”
    Holly smiled a little wistfully and regretted the wonderful evening would have to include revisiting the events before she left Edinburgh, but at the same time she was glad Elizabeth had asked. She needed to tell her.
    When she was finished, Elizabeth looked pale. “That is not possible,” she finally said. “That is appalling. I . . . oh, I wish I had a horse that could take me there right now and I would tell them a thing or two about your character!”
    “You don’t ride, Elizabeth,” Holly said dryly, “especially all those miles on a dark and wet night.”
    “If ever I