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

Her eyes went to the sketch of Jonathan who came when Darrell was out. Now she was Kitty again. Not the young and lovely daughter, but the mother whom the years could not wither, but who seemed only to gather greater charm as time rolled on.

Down in the parlour behind the shop, the teapot stood upon the table. Kitty took her seat.

“Come, Darrell,” she called.

“A cup of tea, my love!”

He came up from the basement, looking tired, with the furrow on his brow. How he had changed from the boy she had loved in the wood. But how faithful she had been to him… always. The darling! The poor, suffering darling!

“Carolan, my dear, hand your father his cup.”

“I cannot stay long,” said Darrell.

“I have business to attend to; in five minutes I must be gone.”

“Father,” said Carolan, “I was talking to Mamma about poor Millie. Could she not live here? I fear it is a dreadful life she leads in her own home.”

“We cannot afford to keep the girl,” said Darrell.

“But, Father, it need not cost more. I have heard such a sad story of her. So many of them all in one room. And I heard that her father gets drunk on gin every night, and they are terrified of him, simply terrified! Could it make much difference if she lived here?”

“I did not intend…” he said.

She had gone to him; she sat on the arm of his chair. Kitty watched them. He loved this daughter of his dearly, though he scarcely knew her. He was afraid of her in an odd way or perhaps afraid for her. I must remember, thought Kitty, to ask him if he, like me, is disturbed by this suggested marriage.

Carolan said: “Father, can you imagine what it is like in that one room where they live?”

“Indeed I can,” said Darrell grimly.

“Then, Father, surely…”

He took her hand; there was an odd, defensive quality about him when he touched either of them, as though he were watching to see if they would flinch from being touched by those poor hands of his.

“You have a kind heart, daughter,” he said slowly, ‘and that is what I would wish. Millie shall come here.”

She kissed his cheek, and Kitty watched the colour run up under his skin. Dear Darrell! It was good to see them thus, and to know that it was her suffering, her endurance which had brought him this daughter. Squire Haredon … Brute! Lecher! What a man! She shivered deliciously, remembering incidents with him. What I endured! She laughed inwardly and stroked the soft skin of her arms.

“I shall tell her today,” said Carolan.

“I do declare,” said Kitty pouting prettily, ‘that you can twist your father around your finger. To me it was always “We cannot afford this! We cannot afford that!” And now, at your request, we are to have a maid to live in the house; we are to go here and there. Did you not say that we should go to Vauxhall, Darrell?”

He smiled fondly across at her.

“I did indeed. We must show Carolan around, must we not?”

“Oh! Did you think I should be the one to say no to a little gaiety?”

They were smiling, a happy family party. How I love them both! thought Kitty. It was worth going through what I did, for their sakes.

“Vauxhall Gardens on Saturday afternoon then, Darrell?”

“If you wish it then.”

“I do wish it!” How Carolan’s eyes sparkled! A pity to waste those sparkling eyes on a parson! I shall wear my black velvet, thought Kitty, and we shall have a carriage to take us there.

She looked across at them, smiling lovingly, but instead of their faces she saw herself sitting under the trees in her black velvet; she heard an elegant man whisper to his companions: “Gad! Who’s the beauty in black velvet?”

Darrell put down his cup and said he must go.

“Do not be long,” said Kitty.

And he smiled his well-pleased smile as he went out, and the wistful look was in his eyes, which meant that he was longing to finish with business and retire to the country.

Kitty sat back in her chair.

“Another cup, please, Carolan. My dear, what shall you wear for Vauxhall? You must look smart, my dear, because it is a veritable fashion parade there, I do hear. My black velvet is most becoming … I think I shall add a fichu of lace, something delicately coloured in a pastel shade. How glad I am that I have the colouring to suit black velvet.” The shop bell rang, and there was the sound of a footfall out there.

“Now who in the world can that be?” said Kitty, but her eyes were mischievous; she could guess, of course. By the Lord, I believe he waits outside the shop until he has seen Darrell go. Naughty man!

Carolan went through the parlour door. Kitty heard her say: “Oh … how do you do, Mr. Crew?”

Then she led him into the parlour. He looked pale, and his skin seemed to be drawn more tightly than ever across his prominent bones.

He came swiftly to her. Languidly she lifted a hand which he took courteously and pressed to his lips. They were feverishly hot, those lips. Kitty found that piquant such hot lips, such a queer cold face unfathomable! Mysterious! Perhaps when a woman grew older she liked a subtle lover. Too much sweetness could be cloying too much petting, too much fondness. A strange man, Jonathan Crew!

“Carolan,” said Kitty, ‘perhaps our guest would like a cup of tea.”

“Indeed, Ma’am, you are too hospitable.”

“Now, sir! Should I refuse a cup of tea to a thirsty man?” Carolan filled the cup and handed it to him, and How his eyes rested full on the girl. Oh, she was attractive with her eyes that deep green, and her reddish hair, and the soft roundness of her cheeks. But would he wait until Darrell was out of the way, to call on Carolan? So ridiculous! And there was nothing foolish about Mr. Crew … except perhaps his rising passion for a woman older than himself; though it might well be that he did not know this, for truly she did not look her age.

She said: “We are going to Vauxhall on Saturday, Mr. Crew. My little daughter here is in a fine state of excitement about the jaunt.”

“That will be delightful,” said Mr. Crew, turning his eyes upon her. He seemed to be summing her up. If his manners were not always so perfect, that appraising glance of his might be offensive.

“You have been of course, Mr. Crew?” said Carolan.

“Many times,” he told her.

“Then it would not hold the same thrill for you as it does for us?” Kitty inquired archly.

“That would depend, Ma’am.”

Here, Kitty was in her element. Her eyes were wide and innocent.

“Depend on what, sir, may I ask?”

“On the company I had the privilege to enjoy!”

“And if the company was all that you could desire, you would enjoy a visit to Vauxhall?”

“Indeed I would!”

Kitty was silent. Another man would have asked outright if he might join the party; not so Jonathan Crew. All his movements were mysterious: he would leave one guessing. Would he or would he not join their little party at Vauxhall? Wretched man! Yet exciting man! For, Kitty asked herself, what was there about him except that mysterious quality? Take that away, and what had you a tall, thin man with a skin the colour of old parchment drawn so rightly across his bones that they looked as though they would break through it, a man whose peculiarly prominent eyes and somewhat receding chin gave him the appearance of a fish. And yet that peculiarity, that soft tread when he entered the shop, that timing of his entrance attractive, yes! Or it may be, thought Kitty, that I have been shut away so long that I find any man attractive. Now Marcus … there is a different sort of man. Not good-looking, it was true, but with a charm and an air … But his merry eyes could see none but Carolan.

She found they were talking of Marcus. Jonathan had seen him leaving the shop a few days ago. Was he well? asked Jonathan. Very well, as far as she knew, Kitty replied.

“A man whose chief object in Me is to amuse himself,” Jonathan said a trifle severely. That was the impression he gave me.”