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

So they talked and planned, and made love and dreamed of the life they would lead beyond the Blue Mountains.

Margery watched her and saw the dreams in her eyes, and whispered: “Tell Margery … Tell old Margery. Is it an elopement, ducky? You can trust old Margery.”

Katharine shook herself out of her dreams, and shook old Margery by the shoulders.

“Stop it, Margery! Isn’t it bad enough? How can I hurt them! I love them. How can I be happy … even there beyond the Blue Mountains with Henry … if they aren’t happy too! How can I, Margery?”

“A new home, eh, t’other side the Blue Mountains? I don’t like the sound of that, ducky. Why not nearer home ?”

“Oh, Margery, don’t be silly! We want to go there, and that’s where the station is.”

“The station! What station?”

“Our new home. Oh, Margery, you’ve no right to make me tell. It’s a secret…”

“There, there, dearie! A station miles away … the other side of the Blue Mountains, eh?”

“It’s wonderful land, Margery. Marcus … People say it was well worth all the trouble to discover. It’s fine land …”

“Two little ‘uns like you two ‘ull want a bit of looking after, lovey. What about taking old Margery along of you?”

“You wouldn’t want to leave Mamma, Margery!”

“I might.”

“You wouldn’t, Margery… after all these years.”

“There’s things I ain’t altogether pleased about in this house. I reckon it wants pulling down, and a fresh one built in a new place.”

“Why, Margery? Why?”

“I feel like it. And how d’you think I’d be liking it, with you eloping off to the other side of the Blue Mountains ?”

Katharine laughed and flung her arms round Margery’s neck.

“Promise, not a word, Margery! Swear!”

“I swear!”

“Margery, if you were to break your word, I’d … I’d get somebody’s ghost to haunt you for the rest of your days.” Margery shrieked and turned pale. Katharine laughed.

“Swear then, Margery… Quick!”

“I swear,” said the old woman.

“And, Margery?”

“Y … yes, Miss Katharine?”

“I’ll see about it. We … we’ll discuss it. I think it would be fun to have you around. I must go down now, Papa will frown if I am not there to help them receive the first of the guests.” She went to the door. Margery was still shaking; her face was the colour of cheese.

“Margery,” she said, turning back, ‘do you believe this house is haunted?”

Margery did not speak.

“You do, Margery. I know you do, and I know by whom!”

“Don’t speak of it. Miss Katharine. It’s better not to. You don’t know…”

“On the contrary, I do know!” She grimaced mockingly.

“First Wife! That’s it, isn’t it?” She went out, slamming the door.

Margery could not stop herself from trembling. Ah, she thought, my pretty dear, you think you’re clever! You think you’re smart. You laugh at ghosts, do you! Well, there’s a lot you’ve got to learn, me dearie. You don’t know what happened to the poor sickly lady. Margery looked furtively over her shoulder.

“I was always fond of the poor lady,” she said aloud, ‘fond of her and sorry for her.” She paused, as though waiting for some response. There was none, and she continued musing, Oh yes, me fine lady, you ain’t so clever! Ah, but when you’re seventeen you think you know life; you think life is all living snug in a nice cattle station, and making love in the sunshine. Oh no, me darling, it ain’t all that simple. And he’s such another as his father, I’ll be bound, from what I’ve seen. He’ll like the women and the women will like him. Well, it’s a different way you’ve chose from your lady mother, and I hope you’ll be happy. And I’ll be there … I’ll keep you to that, me darling. I’ll like to be there. I’ll watch him for you, dearie, and then when you find love’s young dream ain’t as pretty as you thought, you’ll have old Margery.

The candles were lighted in the drawing-room. It was bright with gay company, but how she longed for the shade of the veranda, and Henry, sitting close, leaning against one another whilst they talked of their home beyond the Blue Mountains! Mamma was watching her closely, and there was that hideous Miss Grant watching Mamma as she was always watching let, slyly, as though she knew something, as though she had caught Mamma doing something wrong.

Instead of candles she saw tall eucalyptus trees; their barks shone bright silver in sunshine.

“Waiting is silly.” Henry had said.

“We can’t wait, Katharine won’t wait!”

Miss Grant sidled over.

“Why, Miss Katharine, how grownup you’re looking tonight! It seems only yesterday that you were but a little baby.”

Poor Miss Grant! Homesick and angry, despising everything in the new country because of her nostalgia for the old. One imagined her coming over with her father, Major Grant, years and years ago. How dreary! Poor Miss Grant!

“Only yesterday!” she continued.

“I remember well the day you were born.”

“Do you? That is kind of you.”

Mamma was looking anxious. Dear Mamma! How lovely she was, but strained tonight! She looked as if she were trying to catch what Miss Grant was saying.

“Kind! Oh, dear me no! The whole town was so interested..”

“In my being born? I suppose they were interested in all the babies.”

“Not all, Miss Katharine. Not all! I said you were a very special baby.”

“I’m sure I was most ordinary really.”

Wouldn’t it have been fun if Henry could have come tonight. She should have been bold and gone straight to Papa and Mamma and told them. Why should she not?

“You were a rather … shall we say a much-heralded link baby!”

What on earth was the facetious little woman talking about? She probably adored babies. People who were never likely to have any often did. She thought of herself and Henry having babies… lots of them. She smiled.

“Ah! You are amused. We did not think it exactly amusing!”

“I’m sorry,” said Katharine.

“What did you say?”

Mamma came over.

“Katharine, Lady Greymore wants to talk to you. Over there.

She is waiting for you.”

Lady Greymore said: “Hello, my dear. I must tell you that you look charming tonight… charming … La! How beautiful it is to be young! Your dress is most becoming. Come, tell me, was it your own choice? Or did Mamma help you? I’ll whisper to you that you’ll love the London gowns. They would make anything here look positively provincial!”

Katharine murmured that she was sure they would.

“And you, my dear, would be a great success in London. Of that I am certain. They would love you because you are so different. And when they heard that you had come from Botany Bay, they would be so amused! After all, it would be something of a joke.”

“Why?” said Katharine.

“Why! Who in England has not heard of Botany Bay! But they do not expect lovely young girls to come out of the place, I assure you!”

“Doubtless they know little about it, and think they know a good deal!”

“La! What asperity! But it becomes you, child___It becomes you. Here are the men coming back. And, ah! Anthony has seen you. He is coming over, dear boy.” He was very elegant; she was interested in his elegance; it was such a contrast to the manliness of the men she had known.

Papa was always well dressed, always neat; but never, never had he aspired to elegance! As for Henry, she had never seen him in anything but riding kit, and a shirt open at the front. Marcus sometimes wore gay coats, but they were Sydney made and very sombre compared with this blue satin affair from London which Sit Anthony wore so carelessly, as though there were nothing very special about it. A faint perfume followed him as he moved. His snuff box was of silver and lapis lazuli, his eyeglass a pretty thing of light tortoiseshell. But he had pleasant eyes, very blue and warm too as they rested on Katharine. She liked him better than she liked his mother.