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

I will not let her marry Marcus’s son! thought Carolan. I will not! Even though, for a time, she thinks her heart is broken. He will be like his father. I see it in him.

Audrey was looking at her oddly, comb poised.

“I am sorry, Audrey. I am fidgeting.” Audrey’s eyes in the mirror worshipped her. Where else could a convict find such a kind mistress?

Gunnar came in. He had just ridden home. He looked tanned and healthy. He was in a hurry for he was late, but he would be ready at precisely the right moment when he must descend to greet his guests. He would never be late. His dressing-room would be in perfect order and he would know just where to find everything. How wrong it was to get exasperated over someone’s virtues!

Audrey had finished her hair and the result was most attractive.

“You don’t look much older than Miss Katharine, M’am. You might be her older sister. People could easy take you for that.” What flattery! She looked years older than Katharine and most definitely she looked Katharine’s mother.

She felt an acute desire to be Katharine’s age, to be going to her first ball where she would be told by Everard that he loved her. Had she known what was waiting for her. how she would have pleaded with him to let nothing stand in the way of marriage! Had she never come to London she would never am known Marcus. She could not wish that. No, perhaps if she could live her life again, she would go back to that day when Margery had told her that Clementine Smith and Marcus were lovers.

She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. Had she not been fortunate? The life she had shared with Gunnar had dignity, security; and life with Marcus would never have given her either.

Gunnar came in from his dressing-room; he wanted to talk to her, she could tell by his manner, so she dismissed Audrey.

“Well,” she said, playing with her fan of green tinged ostrich feathers.

He smiled at her, admiring her beauty which never failed to stir him, admiring her adroitness in dismissing Audrey without his having to tell her that he had something to say.

“I was late,” he said, ‘because I met young Greymore. He asked .. for permission to approach Katharine.”

“And most willingly you gave it!”

She laughed, and he laughed too, though he was never sure of her laughter. To him this seemed a matter of the deepest gravity; the betrothal of their daughter was surely no matter for laughter.

“I gave it, of course,” he said.

“I hope she will accept him,” said Carolan pensively.

“I should hate it if she were reluctant.”

“I was wondering if we should warn her, and tell her what our wishes are.”

Dear Gunnar! Did he know his daughter so little that he thought they had only to tell her Their wishes and they would immediately become hers?

“She may be difficult,” she warned him tenderly.

“She is very sensible,” he said.

“And it is a good match.”

She stood up then. He was sitting on her bed. She took his head and held it against her breast. He was always moved by these sudden displays of affection; they were so unexpected. Why should she embrace him now, while they were discussing this very important matter of their daughter’s marriage?

She said: “You think everybody can be as sensible as you, my dear.”

“Oh, I think Katharine has her share of common sense.” Oh, no! she wanted to say. There is no great common sense in our Katharine, because she has little of you in her; she is all mine. Reckless, adventuring. And yet there was a time when you… “Gunnar,” she said, ‘if she refuses him, what then?”

He said confidently: “We will talk to her. He is very eager. He seems to me the sort who’ll not take no for an answer.”

“She worries me, Gunnar. Sometimes I wonder whether she has not formed some attachment.”

“But, Carolan, with whom?”

“How should I know.”

“But surely there would have been some evidence…”

He did not see the evidence of bright eyes, of that absent manner, of that shine of happiness. He would never see that. Blind Gunnar. How did he ever love blindly himself?

“I am determined,” said Carolan fiercely, ‘that she shall make the right sort of marriage. I think she needs that sort of marriage. The boys will choose wisely… one feels that instinctively. Or if they do not, it will not be so important. But Katharine …”

She saw his face in the glass, and she knew he was thinking of the coming of Katharine; how she, Carolan, had talked of marrying Tom Blake; he was remembering it all vividly, for it lay across his life as darkly as it lay across hers.

She turned to him then, clinging to him in sudden tenderness.

“Oh, Gunnar, you have done so much for us all. You have made me so happy.”

“My dear!” he said in a husky voice. But the shadow was still in his eyes. Lucille was there.

Margery knocked at Katharine’s door and tiptoed into the room. Katharine was standing before her mirror, admiring herself in her blue ball dress with its masses of yellow lace. Audrey, before starting on Carolan’s hair, had dressed Katharine’s and it hung in curls about her shoulders. Margery clasped her hands together and rocked herself with delight.

“My little love! My little dear. The men will be at your beck and call tonight!”

“How your thoughts run on men!” said Katharine, and Margery cackled with glee.

She was more outspoken, this Katharine, than her mother had been. Not quite the same brand of haughtiness. Ready to enjoy a little joke. And up to mischief, if Margery knew anything!

“Pity Ac isn’t going to be here tonight!” Margery nudged her.

“Who?” said Katharine defiantly.

“You know who! Him who you sneak out to meet, me darling. Tell old Margery.”

“You know too much.”

“Well, what’s an old woman to do? The gentlemen don’t come calling on me now, you know.”

“You must not tell, Margery. You haven’t told?”

“I’d cut me tongue out rather.”

“Only sometimes I’ve thought that Mamma seemed to know. Margery, if you told I’d never speak to you again!”

“Not me, lovey. Not me! And if she was to know, what of it? Do you think she’s never …”

She could silence with a look, the little beauty, and her with a secret on her conscience too! Old Margery had seen him. He was forever hanging about the yard, he was. And there was no mistaking where he’d come from; the look of him told you that. And his father all over again! He knew how to get round a woman, no mistake, and he’d got round her little ladyship till she was yearning for him. The things you could find out, if you kept your eyes open!

Margery finished lamely: “A pity he can’t come here tonight! Pity he can’t be introduced to your Ma and the master, and we can’t hear the wedding bells ring out! That’s how I’d like this to end.”

“Parents,” said Katharine, ‘have such ridiculous ideas!”

“Parents was young once, me lady!” Ah! That they was! And well I remember the two of them. Madam Carolan. flaunting herself in her mistress’s clothes, and you, me lady, well on the way before you should have been. And that… what I don’t like thinking of… and me having a hand in it, so’s I’m frightened to show me face on that first floor. I wish we’d get out of. this house. But ghosts don’t mind where you go; they follow. And they don’t need a-carriage, nor a stage… not they! And as sure as I’m Margery Green there’s a ghost in this house, though I ain’t and God forbid I ever should clapped eyes on it!

“Yes, Margery, but they’ve got this Sir Anthony in mind.”

“Ah! Marry him, me pretty dear, and you’ll be a real live ladyship. There’s some who.wouldn’t say no to that, I’ll be bound!”

“I thought you’d talk sense, Margery!” Sweet balm, that was. Madam and the master, they didn’t talk sense, but old Margery did, according to this lovely bit of flesh and blood. Margery put her hand on the bare shoulder, though it was risking her ladyship’s displeasure, for she was never one for being touched … except by some most likely … I never saw a child take after her mother more. And why not, and who are they to say her nay? What of them, eh? With the mistress lying in her bed, poor sickly lady. No, no, don’t think of that, Margery; it ain’t nice to think of. I wish we’d leave this house, but would that be any good? Ghosts don’t need the stage.