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

“You know nothing of the matter, Kitty,” said Darrell sternly, and Kitty pouted at being so spoken to. Angry lights leaped into her eyes. She to know nothing! She who had been loved by many, married to a lascivious brute who had however provided her with a comfortable home; she who had left that home to run away to squalor with Darrell, and had taught him how to make love and be happy! He was her true love, of course, but there were times when his unworldliness drove her well-nigh crazy. They had this attractive daughter who had rashly betrothed herself to a parson; there were better fish in the sea than parsons. And a man who came to the shop in the course of business might well be rich a merchant or a nobleman. Who was Marcus Markham? She had never thought very much of him until now. When they had come to live at the shop, he had come into their life: or about that time Kitty was not sure. How could she be sure of unimportant details! Darrell never talked about him much; the few idle questions she had asked had never been really answered. She had thought Jonathan Crew might be posing as a clerk, but Marcus Markham had an air which Jonathan Crew would never have. The burning question of the moment was Who was Marcus Markham?

“Mr. Markham,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes demurely, ‘do you agree that I am an ignoramus?”

Marcus flashed a smile at Carolan.

“Certainly not! You exude wisdom. But one thing I am absolutely certain of in whatever generation Miss Carolan had lived, she would choose and not be chosen.”

“Thank you for that!” said Carolan.

Kitty shrugged her shoulders.

“And what have you been doing recently, Mr. Markham?” she inquired turning the conversation.

“Have you been to the races lately?”

Darrell stirred uneasily in his chair.

“I must explain,” said Kitty to Carolan, ‘that I suspect Mr. Markham of being a gay dog. He is a regular gad-about. He does not mean us to know that, but it slips out. He has been here, there and everywhere!”

“It seems to me,” said Carolan, ‘that Mr. Markham is a somewhat mysterious gentleman.”

“There is no mystery whatever,” said Marcus.

“I am glad of it,” retorted Carolan.

“I do not believe that,” put in Kitty.

“I believe he is a gentleman of fashion… when he is not wandering about Grape Street.”

“Oh,” said Carolan, ‘do you spend your time wandering about Grape Street?”

“Why not? An interesting neighbourhood, is it not?”

“If you have a taste for squalor and poverty, yes,” said Carolan.

Odd, she was thinking, how both he and Jonathan Crew had said they found the neighbourhood interesting. Darrell said: “Marcus came in to buy a ring.”

“Ah!” said Kitty.

“For a lady friend, I’ll be bound!”

“If she will accept it!”

“You see, Carolan, I was right when I said he was a gay dog.” Marcus grinned at Carolan.

“In some society it is necessary to be a gay dog. In other society it is only necessary to be oneself.”

“But,” said Carolan, “the two might add up to the same thing.”

“You are a cyme!”

“Is one a cynic for stating what one believes to be true?” She was trying hard to dislike him, as she felt she ought. He was too bold; he was flirtatious, and with every flicker of his eyes he was telling her that he found her desirable.

“Carolan,” cut in Kitty, ‘you must not take him too seriously. He is trying to impress you with his wickedness. Nowadays to be wicked is a greater asset than to be good.”

“But, Mamma, you said a little while back that it was in your generation that pagans flourished.”

“I am not clever like the rest of you! You tie me in knots. But then I will say this it was not always thought necessary for a woman to be clever.”

Darrell said: “Marcus, come with me to the storeroom. I have something to show you there.”

The two men departed, and Carolan began to gather up the dishes. She paused suddenly and said: “Mamma, who is that man ?”

“That is what I would like to know. He has an air, has he not?”

“I am not sure that I like his airs.”

“No?” said Kitty, oddly piqued and not knowing why.

“One would not expect you to you who have a fancy for parsons!”

“What I meant, Mamma, was why does he come here? Is he one of the rich merchants for whom my father procures goods to sell?”

“That would be most likely,” said Kitty. Carolan went into the kitchen and washed up with Millie. Then she went upstairs and changed her morning gown for one of grey merino with a green belt and green silk at the neck and throat. Her hair was sleek and shining.

“My darling,” said Kitty when she returned to the parlour, “I am parched with thirst; what about making some tea? Doubtless the men would join us.”

“Are they still talking business?”

“They must be. They have been shut up in the basement for an age! I do declare there is no gallantry left in men these days; I have been sitting here for ages waiting for them to come.”

“Mamma! You are a very naughty woman. Why do you think my father works so hard, is so eager to do business? For you, of course! That you may leave this place at the earliest possible moment, that you may have comfort, that you may have the life to which you are suited! And then you accuse him of lack of gallantry because he shuts himself away with a client to talk business. Is it not more gallant, more loving, to try to give you what you want, than to smirk and bow over your hands and say stupid things that have no real meaning?”

“La! How you bully me! And doubtless think me a stupid old woman to boot. Now I must say “Of course, of course, wise Carolan!” And you are right, and I am a foolish old woman … though not really old … not old for a long, long time. And, my dear, I’ll whisper something you look most enchanting! You put me in the shade with Marcus, did you not? I do not like being put in the shade… but as it is my own daughter who does it, perhaps I do not care so much. You liked Marcus, did you not. my child? Oh, do not protest! I saw that you liked him. And how he liked you! How his eyes danced to contemplate you!”

“Oh, Mamma, please! Do you not see that he would make his eyes dance for anything in petticoats?”

“But they danced more brightly for these petticoats, my dear Carolan. How do we know who he is?”

Carolan sighed.

“It is funny! A man only has to appear in Grape Street to be endowed with mystery, with romance, with intrigue. Who is he? What is his business here? Mamma, have you found another nobleman who, tired of the sycophancy of his friends, seeks real friendship in Grape Street?”

“You have a lively tongue, Carolan.”

“But not nearly so lively as your imagination! Now Mamma, let us stop this foolish talk. Mr. Markham is a client of my father’s nothing more. Nor could he ever be to me, however merrily he should make his eyes to dance. Please remember I am engaged to marry Everard.”

“Oh …but a parson!”

Carolan stamped her foot angrily.

“Yes! A parson! And please say no more. Is it not an honourable calling?”

“I would not have dared to stamp my foot at my mother, Carolan!”

Carolan stooped and kissed the soft cheek of her mother.

“But this, dear Mamma, is a new age, and I am far removed from the paragons of your generation, remember.”

“You tease me. Why should I be teased?”

“Because you are an old darling, and it is no use trying to pretend you’re a cross patch. And now I shall prepare the tea.”

Kitty called through the door: “Carolan, you are in love with that parson, are you not?”

“I am indeed.”

Then you shall marry him!”

“Generous of you, Mamma,” chuckled Carolan, ‘but did not your friend Marcus tell you that I would decide for myself? That was a point on which he happened to be right.”

“Wayward child! What a handful you are.”

Carolan came in with the tray.