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

"You might have married your murderer. Would you have been happy, do you think? Like a sheep in a field . . . shut in . . . knowing no other world but that bounded by four hedges? And then he might have decided to murder you . . . having acquired the taste for murder. But you were not in love with him. If you were, why did you not wait for his return ? Why did you not give him a chance to explain ? Shall I tell you? It is because you do not love him. It is because you know there is only one man for you, and I am that man."

"What a pity there is not only one woman for you—and that woman your wife!"

"That would make life so simple, wouldn't it? But can we expect it to be so simple as that?"

"I believe Caroline does."

"Yes, you have grown up. You get angrier. You have a temper, Melisande, my pretty one. Guard it. Tempers are dangerous things. Do you remember when you leaped from your horse and snatched the branch from the boy who was torturing the madwoman? That was temper . . . righteous anger. You nearly had the mob on you then. But you didn't stop to consider. Or perhaps you knew that I was there to protect you. What would have happened if I had not been there to snatch you from the mob? I'll always be there, Melisande, when you need me. With a fiery temper like yours, that blazes into fury, you need a protector. Once more I offer myself."

"The offer is not accepted. It is supper time now. Goodbye."

"I am taking you in to supper."

"I am not here as a guest, you know."

"You should not be here at all. You should let me rescue you from the indignity of your position."

"To place me in a position of greater indignity! I see no indignity in my present position."

"That is because you are so innocent."

"I don't think Madam Cardingly knows what sort of man you are, or she would not allow you to come here."

"It is precisely because she knows the sort of man I am that she welcomes me here. Come, let us go in to supper."

At the supper table buffet they were joined by others, and Melisande was glad of this. The conversation was general. It ranged from politics—always a favourite topic at Fenella's gatherings—to literature. Melisande had quickly learned to be discreet and, if she could not profitably add to the interest of the discussion, she would keep silent. Fenella often said that it was better for a girl to be quiet than foolish.

One of the ladies of the party now admired Melisande's dress and wondered how it would look in claret colour. It was Melisande's

duty to discuss the claret-coloured dress the lady might wish to be made for her, to suggest slight alterations to suit a more mature figure than her own. Melisande was a success at her job and nothing delighted her more than to give advice which resulted in a sale. Then she could feel justified in her comfortable existence in this strange household.

The conversation was turned to the Poor. Everybody talked about the Poor nowadays. It was as though they had just discovered the Poor; although Fenella had been aware of them for so long, she had only recently managed to make them a subject of general interest. There were always, in every gathering, those who would cry: "But Christ said, 'The Poor ye have always with you' and that means there must always be poor. Why all this fuss about something which is natural and inevitable?" There were others who quoted The Song of the Shirt and Oliver Twist. These were now discussing The Cry of the Children and the new novel Coni.igsby by that Jew who was, it was said, about to lead the Tory protectionists.

Some of the more frivolous were discussing Fanny Kemble's latest performance; but Melisande remained quiet, not this time because she could not have joined in, but because of Fermor's presence.

He lifted his glass of champagne and drank to their future.

"I do not see what future you and I could have together unless ..." she began.

"Unless you come to your senses?" he finished for her. "My dear, you will. I promise you."

"Unless," she went on, "you reform your ways. Then perhaps I may meet you with Caroline."

"Reform . . . reform!" he sang out, "It is all reform. Everybody would reform everything these days. Are they not content with their Corn Laws? Must they start on human beings?"

She said quietly: "You don't think about other people at all, do you? You are the utter egoist. You see only a small world with Fermor Holland in the centre of it."

"Don't be deceived. We are all in the centre of our small worlds— even your learned friends here with their chitter-chatter of art and literature, of politics and reform. 'Listen to meV they are saying. 'Hear what / have to say!' I say that too, and because my song is a different one, that does not prove me to be any more self-centred than the next man."

"I wish you had not come here."

"Be honest. You are delighted that I have come."

She was silent for a while, and because he was smiling she said: "It is startling to see someone reappear from a life which one had thought left behind for ever."

"You always knew I'd come for you, didn't you? It'll always be like that, Melisande. I shall always be with you."

The champagne had made her eyes sparkle. She had drunk more than she was accustomed to. Was she a little tipsy? That was an unpardonable sin in Fenella's eyes. "Drink is a goodly thing," was one of her maxims. "One must drink to be sociable. One must acquire the art of drinking, which is to drink just enough. To drink too little is unfriendly; to drink too much is gross."

As a result of her heightened emotions Melisande was seeing everything with a new clarity. What was she doing here ? What sort of place was this to which her father had sent her ? Was it merely, as he said, to learn dressmaking? It was certainly not to learn dressmaking. It was to wear beautiful clothes, to attract admiration. Why? She caught sight of Daisy now. Daisy was wearing a pink dress, very decollete^ in which she looked like a full-blown rose. She was making an appointment with a thick-set man. In a little while they would slip away and Daisy would not be seen until next day. "Do you know what sort of place this is?" Fermor had asked.

Why did Fenella keep girls here? What was it all about? Was it the sort of place to which a conscientious father would send his daughter? Was Fenella Cardingly the kind benefactress she had made Melisande believe she was? What were those places called, where girls like Daisy, Kate and Mary Jane lived and worked? What was the label attached to the women who looked after such places, who arranged such meetings? Was this a high-class brothel? Was Madam Fenella a procuress? What was the ultimate purpose of sending a girl here ?

But it was this man who had put evil thoughts into her head. Fenella was good and kind. This was a happy place. Did she believe that, because she wished to believe it, because if she believed otherwise she would not know how to act ?

Nothing could make her alter her opinion of Fenella's kindness. She had come here, bruised and wounded, and Fenella's strange house had comforted her as she had not believed it was possible to be comforted.

Fermor took her glass from her and set it down. She stood up.

"Let us go back to the salon," he said.

He took her arm and gripped it fast. She found as they moved away, that she was glad of the support. They were alone in the corridor.

He said: "It is impossible to talk in that room with so many people about us. Can we not be together alone ... for five minutes?"