Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean (бесплатные онлайн книги читаем полные .TXT) 📗

“You must tell me.”

“I think she told me not to tell. I did not think she meant you, of course. I thought you would have known. But you see, she takes laudanum; it frightens me sometimes; it would be so easy to take an overdose. Sometimes I think she will, by mistake; it would kill her … she was frightened … frightened of having a baby here; she says it is so uncivilized. She said she would have been frightened in London, but here she was terrified, simply terrified. So she went to that doctor … that ticket of leave man who sells medicines which other doctors will not sell… and he did it for her. She was ill; she nearly died, she said. Do you not see what I mean? She could have had her baby happily … whereas I…”

He did see. There was a cold glint in his eyes now. He hated Lucille, and in his hatred there were no regrets for the child of which he had been deprived; he wanted nothing of Lucille now. He wanted Carolan and his child, which was chiefly Carolan’s child. He was powerless; he did not know how he must act. He was a practical man who had never before been so foolish as to want something beyond his reach.

“It was frightful,” said Carolan, and she shivered.

“When she told me, it seemed to me that what she had done was little else I but murder.” She drew close to him.

“Gunnar, you must not ‘, worry, my darling. Who knows, it may come right.”

He said: “Carolan, you must promise me you will not many that man.”

“How I love you!” she answered.

“I would not have it. I would do anything to stop it.”

“You will not let it be. Gunnar,” she whispered.

“You will stop it… I know you will. You are so clever… so wonderful…”

Something was wrong with the master. Margery knew it! He had a dazed look; his eyes burned; he wasn’t eating his food. Something was wrong with Mistress Carolan; she was paler; her eyes were brilliant. When you spoke to her sometimes she did not answer, and it wasn’t because she was playing the haughty lady either. She wore a black dress nearly all the time a dress with a voluminous skirt, a concealing sort of dress that gave you a clue.

Quite sorry she was for the little ladyship. No snivelling about her. Her lovely head was carried a sure degree higher these days; but there was a pinched look about her mouth. Was she frightened? She wouldn’t admit it! She wasn’t that sort. Now, if only she would confide in old Margery!

She came into the kitchen for the mistress’s bath water. She always made Poll carry it up and take it in. A nice spectacle, Poll, to go into a lady’s bedroom! Why didn’t she let Jin take it? Jin was a strong enough girl. One of these fine days Poll would be upsetting the water all over the stairs, and then there’d be a nice how-doyou-do!

“Get the bath water. Poll.”

“Hello, me love! And how are you today?”

“Very well, thank you. Are you?”

“Now that surprises me, for you’re looking a bit peaky.”

She flinched a little. Suspicious? Come on, tell old Margery.

How long do you think you can keep that sort of thing secret from a pair of knowing old eyes?

“I’m quite worried about you, lovey. You ain’t looking yourself.”

“Please do not worry then, for I am quite well. Poll can take up the water when it is ready. Tell her not to forget to knock on Mrs. Masterman’s door before entering.”

“Not so fast, me darling. I am worried about you. Have a glass of grog. There’s nothing like grog at such times!”

“What times?”

Times when you’re feeling peaky.”

Margery grinned. Not an atom of doubt either; it wasn’t the girl’s looks so much as her manner that gave her away. The master! What would happen now? Men were funny… could be funny… tunes like these. And when a man was as successful as the master, there were always those who were only too ready to pull him down.

Carolan hesitated. Obviously she suspected Margery of knowing. She sat down at the table.

“Jin!”

Jin came with the bottle, sullen as ever. Margery hoped Jin had noticed nothing. Didn’t want her snickering. Not that Jin ever noticed much except men. She was born a harlot, that gipsy.

“There, dearie, drink up. It’ll do you good. You know Margery’s your old friend.”

“Of course I do.” Sharp, acid that was her voice. Keep off! it said. I managed my own affairs. No doubt you do, me lady, but girls in trouble ain’t so beautiful as girls out of trouble, and even men like the master is only human. They don’t like trouble, though God knows they like what leads up to it well enough!

There!” Margery smacked her lips.

“Good, ain’t it? The master is a good master; not another like him in Sydney. We was lucky to get taken into his house.”

There was a chance for her! Margery could have loved her, if she had fallen on her neck and burst into tears. But she didn’t. She was hard as nails and cold as stone.

Anger surged up in Margery. All right, me beauty! All right… She laid a hand on the swelling bosom beneath the black folds.

“You’re filling out, me lovely. You are filling out. Good living agrees with you, ducky. So that’s what a feather bed does for you, eh?”

The girl had whitened.

She said, calmly enough: “Yes, I think I have put on a little weight.” She drained her glass unhurriedly. You had to admire her. What a change, eh, from that snivelling little wretch!

Funny, the two of them, almost together too. But not so funny, for if Margery knew anything of human nature, which she did quite a lot, she would be saying that it was the one that grew out of the other.

Carolan sat there till Poll came through with the water. Then she led the way upstairs.

Carolan said: “Gunnar, I must talk to you. I must talk to you now.”

They were in the hall together. He had just come in from riding. He looked tall and powerful.

He said: “In my room. You go now.”

She went, and in a few moments he was with her.

They know,” she said.

“It is getting obvious. Margery hinted …”

“You must go away from here at once, Carolan.”

“Yes,“she said. “I win.”

“You must see that my plan is the only plan.”

“You must see that mine is.”

“You cannot marry this man.”

“I can, Gunnar, and I will. I will tell him everything. I do not think he will refuse. He will do anything for me.”

She resisted the temptation to burst into tears, to throw herself on to his bed and sob out her defeat. Tom Blake! The man was repulsive to her, and yet if Gunnar forced her to it, she knew herself well enough to know that she would keep her word. She thought of rough hands touching her.. And would even he be able to stop himself from reminding her of the conditions under which she had married him? At first he would take her at any price, but afterwards, when the humdrum life of the station began … the child would be a constant reminder. They would quarrel the fault would doubtless be hers, for she would not be easy to live with and he would remind her of why she had married him. A festering sore! What a way to embark upon marriage! And Marcus would be living in the same house … Marcus and Esther. It was sordid and horrible.

And beside that, think of life here in this house … mistress of this house … wife of Gunnar Masterman, one of the important men of the town. She did not love him perhaps, but she liked him. Physically he appealed to her as no one else had, except Marcus. To be his wife that was safety, security. To be cherished, to have his children; that was what she wanted.

But it could not be, because of that woman, his wife.

“You shall not marry him, Carolan! You forget you would need my consent.”

“You would withhold it! You would dare do that… when I am about to bear a child!”

“But my child, Carolan! Mine!” Even now he could not keep out of his voice the exulting note. His child! That gave her fresh courage, fresh hope.