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

" 'Tis this blessed stye again. My brother be a martyr to 'em, and they do trouble me now and then. I'm trying to cure the thing afore it grows so big as to close up my eye."

"Who told 'ee to do that then?"

" 'Twas old Tammy Trequint. She be very good. I remember how when Jane Pengelly's three had the measles she told her to cut off a cat's left ear and swallow three drops of the blood in a glass of spring water. My dear life, they was all cured by next day. That's Tarn Trequint for 'ee."

Wenna thought: So you knew they was going to see Tamson then? You told 'em to go. You're as thick as smugglers, you two be . . . you and that Mamazel.

She looked at Mrs. Soady who was so fat that she appeared to be sliding off the chair on which she sat. Mrs. Soady's small benevolent eyes smiled at the world through her puffy flesh. There was a lot of Mrs. Soady. It came of feeding herself with titbits all through the day. Not that she'd go short on her meals either! Mrs. Soady loved food. She also loved a bit of gossip—the tastier the better. Which did she love most, hog's pudding or news of the latest seduction, pilchards with cream or what Annie Polgard did to Sam? It was hard to say. Suffice it that both were irresistible.

There was something else about Mrs. Soady. She was the most generous body in the world. She could not enjoy her food completely unless she shared it with others; she could not enjoy her scandals unless she shared them also. It mattered not if it was her master's food she gave; it mattered not if she had sworn to keep the gossip secret. That was how it was with her.

"So you've been a-visiting Tamson then?" said Wenna.

"No, 'tis too far for me and the way through the woods too bony, my dear. I send Tarn a little something now and then. One of the maids takes it for me."

"So they've been to-day, have they?"

"Not so long ago."

"What's the trouble now?"

"Young Peg—she's after one of the fishermen."

"That girl's a bad 'un."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. She's just what you might call affectionate natured. Some is; some ain't. It turns up in a human being now and then, Wenna, my dear."

"Did young Peg go alone, or did this here affection turn up in someone else?"

Mrs. Soady did not think she ought to tell, but it was going to be very hard not to; and Wenna felt too impatient to get the secret

out of her like a winkle out of a shell. She said bluntly: "I saw them coming in. After midnight. 'Tain't right, you know, Mrs. Soady, young girls going out at midnight."

"My dear, the spell only works at midnight, and going together no harm can come to them."

"So Mamazel had to have a token, eh?"

"Well, why not? 'Tis a bit of fun. Though as Mr. Meaker said, a pretty girl like she be didn't ought to want a token. That's what he did say."

" 'Tis easy to catch flies, my dear, but you want a net to catch a rare butterfly."

"My dear!" Mrs. Soady was overcome by such cleverness. "Do you think then . . . Oh, I don't know. 'Twas just a bit of fun. I remember what I was like when I was a girl." Mrs. Soady laughed softly at memories.

Wenna clenched her hands together. She thought: She's got to go. She must not stay here. And she did not care how she did it; she was going to drive Melisande from the house.

If she went to the master and told him all she knew of her, he would push aside all she had to say. Of course he would. What did he care if she took Master Fermor and broke the heart of his legitimate daughter? What had he cared for Maud? Hadn't he deliberately let her die because of his absorption with this girl?

Very well then. She knew how to attack where it hurt most. He was a dignified man. He was very proud of his position in the county. He might go off to gaiety in foreign parts and London Town, but no spot must tarnish his reputation here in Cornwall.

She said: "Mrs. Soady, I know something about this Mamazel."

"You know something!" Mrs. Soady's eyes glistened as they did when she chopped up apples, bacon and onions and laid them with mutton over a young and tender pigeon to make a squab pie. They could not have shone more over the drop of pig's blood that went into the making of a hog's or bloody pudding.

"I don't rightly know that I ought to tell."

"Oh, you can trust me, Wenna, my dear."

"Well, don't 'ee say a word then . . . not a word to a soul. Will 'ee swear?"

"I will, my dear. You can trust me."

Wenna drew her chair close to Mrs. Soady. "I happen to know whose daughter she is."

"Oh?"

"The master's."

"JVb/"

"'Tis so There was a woman up to London."

"You don't say!"

"Yes, I do then. He was always going up. Business, he said. Business? says I. I know what sort of business. And there was this girl, and they put her in a French convent; and then when she grew up, he wanted her here. Well, he couldn't very well bring her here while her ladyship lived. He's terrible strict about what's right and wrong . . . when it's going to be found out."

"How did you know all this? Did her ladyship know it, Wenna, my dear?"

"Well, she didn't know all. But I don't mind telling 'ee, Mrs. Soady, that just before Miss Maud died, there was a letter ... a letter from foreign parts. He was worried about it. I saw him with it. He was wondering what he could do. He was afraid to bring her here while Miss Maud was alive. Miss Maud asked him to bring her a wrap. . . . 'Twas on the night the engagement were celebrated. And what did he do ? He went in and read that letter instead. And Miss Maud caught cold and died."

"You mean that was what he wanted ... so he could bring Mamazel here?"

"I didn't say that. 'Twas you who said that, Mrs. Soady."

"My dear soul! I didn't mean it. I know the master to be a good man . . . none better. But you really think this be true?"

"I've every reason to believe it, Mrs. Soady. She's his daughter. She's what they do call his illegitimate daughter."

"That be the same as a bastard," said Mrs. Soady in a hushed voice. "Well, I never did!"

"Now, Mrs. Soady, I have took you into my confidence. You'll not breathe a word of it to a soul. 'Tis our secret."

"Why, Wenna, my dear, you can trust me. Not a word. My dear life! The times we do live in!"

"Don't 'ee forget, Mrs. Soady. What the master would do if this got about, I can't say!"

"My dear life! My dear soul! And here's me forgetting that veer we be having for dinner." She rose from the table. Her little eyes were shining; she was not thinking so much about the young sucking pig she was to prepare, as of the strange goings-on of the master of the house.

She would be absent-minded for a while, and Meaker would know she had something on her mind; and old Meaker was almost as much a gossip as she was. He wouldn't let her keep it on her mind; he'd get her to share it.

It would not be long, Wenna reasoned, before the servants' hall would be in the secret; they would all be whispering of the extraordinary relationship between the master and Mamazel.

And soon it would get to the master's ears.

And then, Mamazel, my pretty dear, if I do know the master, you'll be something that has to be hushed up pretty quick; and things that has to be hushed up is put away where nobody can't see them. I reckon I have got rid of you good and proper, that I do!