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

She had not seen him since. That was three years ago. The journey between London and Cornwall was a tedious one, particularly on the Cornish side of the Tamar where there was no railway. Wheels were continually stuck in the ruts, carriages overturned, and isolated travellers were a prey to weather and worse. It was not a journey to be undertaken except on serious business.

And now she was nearly eighteen and her betrothal was to take place on her birthday. She wanted to be married; she believed she wanted to marry Fermor; but into her pleasantest thoughts of him would come a Fermor she had met only by accident, Fermor whom a parlourmaid had slapped and accused of being up to his tricks . . . again. Again!

So . . . she was afraid.

He came to find her in the hammock. She had heard the arrival and was expecting him.

"Caroline . . . Caroline!" he called.

She studied him with excitement and pleasure. He was very tall and blue-eyed. He was bronzed, the same braggart whom she had met in London, yet more than three and a half years older than he had been then, and it seemed, far, far wiser, completely sure of himself, already seeming to be a man of wide experience.

Smiling he took her hand and kissed it; she watched him solemnly. Suddenly, laughing aloud, he tipped her out of the hammock.

"Unceremonious," he said, in the short clipped speech which had not been his before, "but necessary. How tall are you, Caroline? Why, scarcely up to my shoulder. Let me look at you- You're prettier than you were." He kissed her swiftly on the cheek. "Well, haven't you something to say to me? Some greeting? How does a young lady greet her affianced husband?"

She tried to think of something to say and could not.

"I was told I'd find you here," he said helpfully.

She said shyly: "Do you remember when we last met? It was just over three years ago, wasn't it? They made us talk together and they whispered about us."

"Why yes, I remember."

"And we hated each other because they were going to make us marry."

"Nonsense! I was enchanted from the minute I set eyes on you."

"That is not a true thing to say."

"Well, it's a very nice thing," he said.

She laughed and he put his arm through hers.

"I'll show you the gardens," she said.

As they walked he told her how he had spent the time during the waiting. He spoke as though he had scarcely been able to endure

the dreary days between their last meeting and this one. They had despaired of educating him, he told her. So he had made do with the Grand Tour. He was just back. The sun had been hot in Italy— hence his sun-baked appearance.

"I like it," she said shyly.

They were determined to be pleased with each other. Everybody was pleased, except Wenna. She, thought Caroline, would like me to hate him so that she could comfort me.

She led him into the house for she knew she must not be too long alone with him unchaperoned. She sat next to him during dinner; after dinner she talked with him. And that night she could scarcely sleep for thinking of him, but she kept remembering that occasion when she had seen him on the stairs with the servant.

She reminded herself that she had nothing to fear. Her parents had arranged the marriage; it was a convenient marriage. Of course love matches were supposed to happen without the aid of parents. But theirs should be a love match which had been arranged for them. Caroline could not bear that it should be otherwise.

It had all happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly. The day of the great ball had come and everyone had been well and happy then. Caroline had worn her white satin and Fermor had said she looked like an angel or a fairy. They had danced together; and the gentry from the surrounding country had drunk their health in champagne. They were truly affianced; and she wore a diamond ring on her finger to prove it.

The villagers had looked in at the great windows. Some, very daring, had come quite close, and had had to be turned away by Meaker the butler.

It was a hot night. Who was it who had suggested they should go out and dance on the lawn? Why not? There was a moon and it was so romantic. The young people had begged for permission to do so. Their elders had demurred, yet with that hesitancy which means consent. Mammas and Papas had sat on the terraces to watch.

The dew was falling and Lady Trevenning, sensitive to cold, was the first to notice it. She looked for a servant whom she might order to bring her a wrap. Sir Charles was standing near her,

"What is it, Maud?" he asked.

She adjusted the lace scarf about her shoulders. "It's a little chilly. I need a wrap."

"I'll go and get one," he said.

He came into the porch. There was a young girl sitting on the seat there—a young man beside her. Her dress was black and she was very small. He saw her green eyes as she lifted her head to smile at him.

She was quite different, of course. He recognized her at once as Jane Collings the daughter of his old friend James, the M.F.H. But for the moment she had made his heart beat faster. He thought of the letter which he kept in his pocket, and as he went into the house he forgot why he had come in; he went to the quiet of the library and taking out the letter read it through once more. It was from the Mother Superior of the Convent Notre Dame Marie. She was anxious on account of Melisande. The child was now nearly fifteen and had learned all that the nuns could teach her. She was bright but not serieuse. The Mother had had a long talk with the child and with the nuns who had taught her, and none of them thought that the Convent was any longer the ideal place for Melisande. The girl was restless; she had been caught slipping out of the Convent without permission. She liked to visit the auberge and if possible talk to strangers who stayed there. It was disquieting and the Mother was perturbed. Would Monsieur let them know his wishes? It was the advice of herself and those nuns who knew Melisande so well that the child should be taken from the Convent—much as they would miss her and the money Monsieur had paid them so regularly. It was their considered opinion that Melisande should be put to some useful work. She was educated well enough to become a governess. She might be good with her needle if she would apply herself more diligently. The Mother sent her felicitations and assured him that she was his sincere friend Jeanne de l'lsle Goroncourt.

He had thought of Melisande continually since he had had the letter.

He could not make up his mind what to do. Perhaps he would go to see Fenella. She had advised him once, and her advice had been good; moreover she had gained wisdom with the years, and he was sure she would be only too happy to help him solve his problem.

As he sat there the door opened and Wenna came in. She looked at him in some surprise and her sharp eyes went to the letter in his hands.

He said: "Oh, Wenna, her ladyship wants a wrap."

She had come near to the table and he noticed that she continued to look at the letter. He felt uneasy. He laid it down and immediately wished he had not done so. He said quickly: "It is getting chilly out there."

"I'll go and get it... at once," she said.

When Wenna went out with it, Maud said: "I thought he had forgotten. It was a long time ago that I asked him."

"Men!" said Wenna fiercely. "Thinking of nothing but themselves ! Why, you'm chilled to the bone. You shall come in at once and I'll get 'ee a hot drink."

"Wenna, Wenna, what of my guests? You forget I'm not your pet now. I'm the hostess."