Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений .txt) 📗
She wondered then, if she confessed everything to him, whether he would be kind and tender and promise to look after her until Darrell came back. She laughed at herself. The gentleness in him was a frail plant soon to be hidden and stifled, by the thick growth of other more natural emotions.
He whispered into her ear: “Cheer up, my dear. You’re not going to the scaffold I Did you think you were?”
She forced herself to laugh.
“No! Why should I? Is it a custom in Devon to hang one’s bride?”
He guffawed with pleasure; laughter came easily to him when he was happy as easily as rage came when he was irritated.
“Maybe,” he said.
“But I promise, if you please me, you shall be allowed to live.”
“Thank you kindly, sir! You are indeed a bounteous squire and husband.”
His great hand well-nigh crushed hers.
“A squire I have been for years. Kitty, but I feel I have never been a husband until now.”
His face was close; there was moisture on his lips. She laughed; laughed at herself for imagining she could hold him off, could explain that he was not to touch her but to let her live in his house until Darrell came to her.
She sat beside him at the table. The smell of the food sickened her, and the warmth of his body as he bent close to her nauseated her. He drank a good deal; he filled her glass. He kissed her ear. and she could feel his teeth against her skin.
And the day passed into evening. The squire led her in the dance, and the musicians played gaily in the gallery round the hall. There was more drinking and singing and dancing, but the squire never left her side the whole evening. But the evening could not last for ever; she felt as though she were holding back the night with frantic hands while the squire beckoned it impatiently.
“The bride looks weary!” murmured the guests, and they whispered together and tittered, making references to the nuptial bed. The squire laughed with them, but the tenderness stayed in his eyes.
Peg and Dolly helped her out of her gown, and prepared her for her bridegroom. She noticed that Peg’s eyes were still red from weeping. They soothed her and patted her but they did not know how to comfort her.
She lay in the big bed and shivered, and called to Darrell, and prayed to her mother. She waited for a miracle, but all that came was the squire’s step outside her door, and then his heavy breathing as he stood close to the bed.
Strange days followed for Kitty, warm days with evenings drawing in and autumn showing itself in the changing leaves and morning mists. It was a period of waiting.
Her feeling for George was not easy to define, nor did it occur to her to define it. His embraces could fill her with repulsion and yet excite her; his sudden change from an almost brutal passion to a gentleness which was pathetic because it sat so uneasily upon him, fostered in her a certain affection for him. Her need to be desired and possessed was satisfied, though her need to love was not; but she found it difficult to differentiate between desire and love, and did not understand herself.
As for George, he was delighted with his marriage. He thought her very desirable; shrinking at times, afraid of him -but then, he liked his women to be afraid of him; at other times there was a hint of passion in her that seemed reluctant to show itself but could not remain entirely hidden. It fascinated him; he longed to rouse it; it made him feel that, possessing her, he was still the hunter, and there was great zest in the chase. He played a game of make-believe with himself, pretending she was Bessa Bess who had miraculously remained young for him. He was pleased with life. She was a wonderful toy, and, because he did I not understand entirely how she worked, his passion did not I diminish; it was nurtured on the mystery of her. He was happy. He liked to be soft with her, indulge her, show her how truly gentle he could be when he loved; but there were times when he must show his strength; then he would catch her unexpectedly and crush her and force her and feel her resentful and wait for the sudden rising of passion in her. Sometimes when he was in a complacent mood, he imagined she feigned reluctance to please him; then he let himself believe he was the centre of her life and that her thoughts were occupied in his pleasure.
The days slipped into weeks. Kitty felt a fondness for the house growing in her; it was so big that she could hide herself in it; sometimes, when she heard George calling her, she would hide in one of the attics and feel completely shut away and safe; but one could not remain hidden for long, any more than one could keep a secret for ever. But she had her mother’s gift of living in the present; something might happen, she told herself, so that her secret would never be discovered, and, wishing it, she began to believe it.
It was pleasant to be mistress of such a place as Haredon. The servants took to her; the housekeeper would discuss the running of the house with her in an indulgent way.
“The dear little thing!” said the housekeeper.
“She is not one to poke and pry.” And indeed she was not; she could offer interest without interference. Peg and Dolly, whom she had brought with her, gave her an excellent reference in the servants’ hall.
“A dearer, sweeter creature never lived!” Dolly declared, and she and Peg showed the gifts Kitty had bestowed upon them, and never thought of whispering a word of those secret meetings with Darrell. There was one, of course, who was not pleased with her presence in the house; that was Jennifer Jay. Kitty heard whisperings of the squire’s relations with Jennifer; that was inevitable. She was sorry for Jennifer. Jennifer’s trouble was just another of those which beset the stormy lives of women. She tried to be friendly, but the glittering eyes of the woman alarmed her a little, and she had a feeling that Jennifer beat little Margaret for being so ready with kisses for her new mamma.
The time came when she must tell of the baby. It would be better to tell, she thought, than to be discovered. She decided that she must explain everything to her husband.
It was October. He had been hunting all day. and she had stayed in her room rehearsing what she would say to him. She had planned it all, beginning with the meeting in the coach; she had to make him understand how deeply she and Darrell had loved.
“I should have told you before I married you,” she would say, for indeed that was what she should have done, ‘but I was frightened, George, so terribly frightened…”
She knew just how she would appeal to him. She felt exalted, almost unafraid … until she heard his voice downstairs. Then she thought of his anger, and how terrible that could be; and she thought of being turned out of his house, and what had happened to the girl who had loved one of his grooms.
He came hastily up the stairs.
“Kitty!” he called in his lusty voice, and she trembled.
As he came in she stood up, her back to the window, so that he might not see her face.
“Ah!” he said. There you are. Why the devil didn’t you come down to welcome me home?”
He was laughing, not ill-pleased; his face was flushed with exercise and ale. It had been a good day, she saw.
He strode over to her and took her into his amis; he bent her backwards roughly and kissed her.
“Why, what’s the matter?” he said.
“You’re white as a ghost.”
She was still trembling, and she could not hide it.
He said: “Why, Kitty?” and the tenderness was in his eyes again, and she felt her resistance weakening.
“George! There is something I must tell you… I do not know what you will say … I have been meaning to tell you for so long…” His hands were on her shoulders, hurting her; he was always so rough with his great hands. The words came out weakly: “George … there is going to bea baby!”
