Twixt Two Equal Armies by Gail McEwen, Tina Moncton

back!”
    Holly followed her out to tend to tea and Mrs Tournier looked after the two girls with a thoughtful smile.
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING, L ORD B AUGHAM awoke at dawn after a heavy dreamless sleep. At first, the faint sound of rain slowly penetrated his perception with its heavy patter on the thin windowpanes, gradually lifting him to the surface of consciousness, until he finally drifted awake murmuring “Well, I’ll be! I wonder if the dam will hold.” That thought stayed with him as he slowly opened his eyes and stretched his limbs, aching after an exceptionally still slumber. He slowly accustomed himself to the morning and found himself thinking about his planned expedition, which not even the rain could spoil. He felt his eyelids shut again and as he listened to the rain slowly fading away, he realised it was far too early to leave this blessed drowsy state and so he let himself be dragged down into sleep once more.
    But a few hours later, when he woke again, he was itching to rise and wasted no time in throwing off the covers and ripping the drapes open to ascertain whether his ears served him right and the rain had stopped. Indeed, he was right and he hastily washed himself and dressed in his trousers, boots, shirt and simple waistcoat. The necktie could wait; he had business this morning out on the brook by the end of the wood. The bridge was near collapsing, Mr McLaughlin and he had noticed on their way back yesterday, and he needed to walk over to ascertain the damage before he set out on any pleasurable communing with trout or other wildlife.
    He found Mrs McLaughlin in the kitchen by the fire, plucking a grouse.
    “We need more groose,” she said as a way of greeting. “Ye’ve not bagged enooch this sennicht.”
    Baugham scanned the kitchen. Somewhere there must be an apple tart. His nose very distinctly said so.
    “Yes, well, I have been busy, Mrs McLaughlin.”
    There was a growling noise from the housekeeper.
    “What with? It’s autumn. We need meat on the table and in the aumrie.”
    “Aumrie?” Baugham said still looking around. “Oh, pantry!”
    He went over to the door at the centre of Mrs McLaughlin’s culinary kingdom and opened the clasp. There it was! Untouched as well. He took it out and reached for a knife on the kitchen table. A quick look from Mrs McLaughlin and he arrested his movements.
    “I am going to repair the bridge with Mr McLaughlin later today. I need my strength,” he said sternly.
    “Aye, well, I’ll mind that when I pack yer nacket later on before ye leave,” she calmly said.
    Baugham reluctantly put down the tart.
    “And more than tairt ye need meat,” she finished and calmly went back to her plucking.
    His lordship threw one more longing look at the apple tart and then went on his way to find Mr McLaughlin to tell him to pack up.
    While that was being attended to, he took a turn around the stables to look over his horses before he returned to the house. One more surreptitious check on the kitchen revealed that the housekeeper was still standing guard over the pantry, so with a sigh he strode out again to meet the waiting Mr McLaughlin. Together they set out to their destination.
    They worked for a fair while, replacing the half-rotted planks with newer, safer ones and sharing some of Mr McLaughlin’s cheese and bread for lunch. Pleased with their day’s work, Mr McLaughlin coaxed his lordship into taking a detour to the west of the estate on their way home to inspect another collapsed bit of road. It was agreed that something had to be done about it before the heavy autumn rains set in and this problem was further pondered over in his lordship’s study, accompanied by a welcome pot of strong, hot coffee and the rest of the now surrendered apple tart.
    T HE END OF THIS DAY could not come too soon for Darcy. He had already endured two long days in a comfortable carriage, two sleepless nights in very fine inns, but by assuring himself — through the prodigal