It Began in Vauxhall Gardens - Plaidy Jean (бесплатная регистрация книга txt) 📗

"Poor Miss Caroline!" said Wenna tenderly. "She's a little upset. What girl wouldn't be! With her betrothal about to be celebrated and a handsome young man coming all the way from London and all!"

"A handsome young man whom she has only seen a few times, Wenna. I do hope she'll be happy."

"She seems fond of him, Miss Maud, my queen."

"But what does she know of marriage? It reminds me . . ."

Wenna nodded. It reminded her too. Her innocent Miss Maud twenty-two years ago entering into marriage with the man her parents had chosen for her.

"There," said Wenna, "you lie back and close your eyes. Here's

your hartshorn. I'll sit beside you and finish off your new white petticoat. Then if you do want anything I'll be here."

Maud nodded. She was very docile; and Wenna knew how to manage both her precious ones—Maud and Caroline.

Now she looked into her mistress's face and thought of the young girl of twenty-two years ago—young, like Caroline, flattered, delighted, yet frightened.

If only they knew! thought Wenna angrily.

No man had spoken for her, and she rejoiced in that fact. They had sense enough to know when they met one who was too sharp for them.

She thought of Sir Charles who was in one of his absentminded moods to-day. Wenna guessed something was afoot. She did not quite know what, except that it had something to do with the secret wicked life he led. This morning she had seen a letter lying on his table. It was in a spidery foreign hand. It had come with papers from his solicitors in London. He had said nothing to Miss Maud about it; she would have told Wenna if he had. As if Wenna did not know how to prise their secrets from Maud and Caroline!

Maud was lying back with her eyes shut, the hartshorn held lightly in her delicate fingers. She looked very small and pale. Sir Charles had said: "Maud, if you would only take a little exercise it would do you the world of good." And poor Miss Maud had ridden to hounds and come back exhausted, so that Wenna had had to nurse her with her possets and her remedies.

Wenna, knitting the thick woollen stockings she made for herself or stitching at the undergarments which she made for her mistress— she would not allow Miss Pennifield to make her ladyship's undergarments—would jab her sewing needle into fine linen as though it were a rapier with which to attack the master, or click her knitting needles as though they were clashing swords.

She imagined the shameful things he must be doing with his secret woman in London. Her mental disparagement of Sir Charles grew in proportion to her love for Miss Maud.

When she had been young—one of many children living in one of the cottages by the quay—and they had been glad to get her into one of the big houses, her parents had said: "We'd like to see Wenna settled, for she'll never find a husband." And wouldn't want one! thought Wenna fiercely. I get on like a barn afire without.

Maud opened her eyes and Wenna said: "The master do seem put out this morning. I do hope nothing's wrong."

"What do you mean?" asked Maud.

"There was a letter came with his papers. It looked like foreign writing and he seemed worried after getting it."

"A foreign letter," said Maud. "It would be some business, I daresay. I believe Sir Charles has interests in foreign lands."

She spoke lightly. Business in her mind was something men were concerned with, necessary and to be tolerated, but far beyond the understanding of ladies. Wenna smiled sardonically; she had no such flattering opinions of the business of men.

Caroline was swinging to and fro in the hammock, thinking of Fermor. She saw herself in the white satin dress. It was beautiful, but would it look beautiful to him ? When she had stayed in London she had felt very smart in her green striped dress and matching pelerine—until she had seen the London girls.

She and her father had visited Fermor's parents; her mother had been too ill to accompany them. She remembered now the first time she had seen Fermor. It was in his mother's drawing-room. He had been a little resentful, knowing that their parents intended they should marry one day. He had shown this resentment by taking as little notice of her as he need. He did talk to her about his father's country house as though he thought the country was all she could possibly know anything about. The parents whispered about them. "How charming young people are," his mother had said. "Love's young awakening is so affecting!" That had embarrassed Caroline and rendered Fermor gruffer than ever.

When they rode together in the Row he seemed to like her better, for she was a good horsewoman, and she fancied that he would always want people who belonged to him to be perfect.

He tried to pretend that he was much older than she was, but she reminded him that it was only a few months. "But you have never been away from the country before," he retorted. "That makes all the difference." "A few months can only be a few months wherever you live," she answered with spirit. He pretended to be very shocked. "What! Contradicting a gentleman! That is very bad manners." "What about contradicting a lady? In the country gentlemen are supposed to be polite to ladies." "Is that why they are supposed to be such bumpkins?" he had asked; and he had the last word on that subject. She believed he always would have the last word.

But during the ball which was held at his parents' house he had changed a little. She and he were considered too young to attend

and had sat in a gallery with his grandparents and some elderly aunts to watch the dancers. She believed she had looked rather pretty in her blue silk party dress. Then he had said: "You have pretty hands. They don't look as if they could manage a horse as they do." It was a sign of approval. He was becoming reconciled to the fact that one day he would have to marry her.

After that he had become boastful; he had told her of incredible adventures in the streets of London; how he had been a highwayman at one time robbing the rich for the sake of the poor. In some stories he was a terror, in others a hero. She liked his stories though she did not believe them, but it was comforting to think that he took the trouble to make them up for her amusement. They had been allowed to drive in the carriage through the streets of London. He pointed out the Peelers in their top hats and blue tail-coats and white trousers. He asked her to take particular note of their truncheons. He told her that the streets of London were full of dangerous criminals; and he had taken a great delight in pointing out people in the crowd. "There is a murderer!" "Oh look, there's a pickpocket." And to please him she had cried out in assumed fear.

He had been ready to like her during those days. They had been taken to Hyde Park to see the Fair which had been erected there to celebrate the wedding. She had been thrilled by the fluttering flags, the bands and dancing, the boats on the Serpentine; the fireworks had especially enchanted her. A servant had been in charge of them and they had been allowed to eat ices which were sold in one of the tents, for everyone was saying that ices were a refined luxury.

On the way back, she remembered, he had told her of an execution he had seen outside Newgate Jail: he had also seen pickpockets ducked.

London had seemed to her a delightful and charming place, and Fermor the most delightful person in it.

She wished she had not seen him kiss the parlourmaid on that last night. Neither of them knew that she saw. He was not yet fifteen but big enough for twenty; and the parlourmaid was a fluffy, giggling sixteen. She had slapped him, as Caroline would not have dared to do. "You . . . Master Fermor ... up to tricks again!" Caroline had gone shivering to her room and had been rather glad that her father would take her home next day.