Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений .txt) 📗

Carolan went about holding her head high.

Not the woman who has just been thrown over, thought Margery. Not if I know anything about it. And talk about arrogance. She would flounce into the kitchen, for all the world as if she were mistress of the house. Lovely she was though, so that Margery forgave her. Her hair was soft and all shining__and if she wasn’t dressing it up fashionable now! And she had a new frock; and she had secrets in her eyes. Hard as nails she was too. Bright and glittering and beautiful with her mermaid’s eyes green as the sea… icy cold sometimes too!

Golly. thought Margery. Am I to be frightened of her, and that in my own kitchen? Why don’t I have a talk with Mr. Masterman about her? Wasn’t I put in charge down here in the kitchen?

But she was rarely in the kitchen now; she detached herself. She no longer slept in the basement. She had her own room upstairs.

“Mrs. Masterman wants me near her in case she needs me in the night.”

Did you ever hear the like? The mistress doted on her; as for the master, he seemed struck dumb. Not a word in protest had he raised, and him such a stickler for his rules and regulations! So up she had gone, and now she was demanding that Poll should take up her own special bath water!

And this, said Margery to herself, is where I do put me foot down. Bedrooms is one thing; frocks is another … and so is fashionable hair styles; but when it comes to having bath water sent up… that is where I has a word with the master.

But somehow it did Margery good to look at her, even though, when she came flaunting down to the kitchen, it was all she could do to stop herself boxing the girl’s ears. Rather her any day, thought Margery, than that moping Esther. Miserable little slut, whining and praying, getting up every morning white as a sheet; scared out of her natural, that was what she was. Serve her right too! And one of these days the master would have to be told.

“Now tell me, Margery,” he would say, ‘what was this man doing in the house ?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really!” muttered Margery.

“A nice bit of trouble this is. Things is going to happen in this house and happen soon, or I’m very mistook.”

She rocked backwards and forwards, laughing. She hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for a long time.

He came often, that Marcus, and with him that Tom Blake. They couldn’t keep away from Carolan, neither of ‘em. And the haughty piece pretended not to care a jot about them, tossed her head, threw a smile at Tom though, and looked through Marcus as though he wasn’t there. Funny. And funny-I-don’t-think when the master gets to know they’ve been coming here. The cheek of them, coming into the yard to pay visits just like they was gentry. Marcus had a word with Esther, tried to cheer her. told her he’d look after the baby, tried to show her that what had happened wasn’t much, nothing to get frightened about. He would go on talking to the miserable girl, and Mistress Carolan would flounce in, and if looks could kill she would have killed him, but Margery wasn’t born yesterday and she knew how it was with both of them … crying out for each other, that’s what they were. It made you feel funny to see them.

One afternoon Margery was in the shed near the pump when Carolan came into the yard. It wasn’t often that Carolan went into the yard. The summer had faded now and the winter was on them. It was chilly in the yard, but something queer about the way she stood there as though she were waiting for someone, made Margery cautiously shut the shed door and decide to wait and watch. She did not have to wait long before Marcus came swinging into the yard for all the world as though he owned it; and peering through a crack in the door Margery saw his face and she guessed they had arranged this meeting.

Ho! Ho! thought Margery. So it’s making it up, is it, me lovelies! So you’re coming to your senses at last!

“Marcus!” said Carolan.

“Carolan! Carolan!”

The way he said her name was in itself a declaration of love. He had a beautiful voice. She’s hard as nails to say no to a man like that, and her not cut out to do without men no more than I was.

“I want to talk to you about Esther.”

“Is that why you sent for me?”

“She is very unhappy, Marcus. She is thinking of death. I saw her take up a knife and look at it in a longing way, as though she were thinking death would be a way out of her troubles, for life has become unendurable for her.”

“What can I do about that?”

“What can you do? You are the cause of it; you will have to do something.”

Tell me what, Carolan.”

“Marcus, you are a brute! I wish we had never met you. Poor Esther, you have ruined her life. You know how she feels. She believes herself to be utterly damned.”

“You put all the blame on me, Carolan.”

“Because that is where it belongs!”

“Now. now, me lady!” muttered Margery.

“That ain’t fair. It takes two to make a quarrel and it takes two to make a baby; that’s my way of thinking. And to see the way you’ve been treating that Esther, it would seem you thought all the blame was with her!”

“Carolan! Carolan!”

“Oh, please stop saying my name in that way. If it is meant to be affectionate, it does not seem so to me. I see right through you, Marcus. You have no scruples whatever; you are completely without honour; you are absolutely despicable.”

What a tongue she had. And a fool he was, for all that he seemed such a fine gentleman. She wanted him to take her now and not to mind if she kicked or yelled. Let her yell; it would do her good. Let her kick; she was a kicker anyway.

“There is only one thing to do. Esther will die of a broken heart, or she will kill herself. I know Esther. She can never beat the shame of this. You must marry her.”

“Marry her. You talk as though we were in conventional England:

“Esther is conventional, as England made her. You are rotten, as England made you.”

“And you are hard and cruel and cold as ice!”

“I am trying to do the right thing for you both.”

“Carolan, have you no sympathy, no understanding?”

“No sympathy, but complete understanding, I fear. You must marry Esther. Nothing else will make her live. I know her, and I am sure of that.”

“My dear Carolan, you are talking the most ridiculous nonsense. Marry Esther! Have you forgotten that we are convicts?”

“Convict! You! What an evil world this is, when such as you can feather their nests, and such as Esther, innocent Esther, can become your prey! I tell you you shall marry Esther.”

“It is impossible, Carolan.”

“You talked of marrying me.”

“I should have had to arrange it very carefully.”

“Well, this is arranged. I have arranged it.”

“What do you mean? Carolan, you simply do not understand. We are slaves, all of us. We have been here but a short time. We shall have to wait, shall have to prove that we are worthy of marriage.”

“Worthy of marriage! You certainly are not. If Esther were not such a little fool, I should tell her to have nothing more to do with you, to think herself lucky that, though she has been foolish enough to make you the father of her child, you are not her husband.”

Margery chuckled. Ha! Ha! My beauty, you’re giving it away. All that bitterness, and you pretending not to care! You’re jealous … jealous as they make ‘em, and of that snivelling, praying wretch. As for you, me fine gentleman, you’re not so smart. You can’t see what she’s thinking, can you?

“But you see, Carolan, it is impossible; if it were not, I would marry her. She is a sweet girl, and I behaved, as you say, very badly. It is up to me to make amends in the way she wants me to. But it is not possible, for she has been assigned to this house…”

“It is possible. I have spoken to Me Masterman, and I have his consent to your marriage.”