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

“Hal You would be torn to pieces if you went back with that chicken!”

“II Indeed I should not! I can defend myself.”

“That you can, I swear! Oh, Carolan, Carolan, how I love you, Carolan!”

“This is not the time to talk of love! Nor do I admire your light treatment of the subject.”

“How like you! I offer you release from discomfort or comparative release from it and all you offer me in exchange are harshness and cold words.”

“I do not mean to be cold, Marcus … but your flippancy seems out of place.”

“I never felt less flippant in my life. Do you know the thought of your being here makes me burn with rage. You believe that, Carolan?”

“Oh, remember my own folly has brought me here. Please will you have the irons struck off my mother … and could you do the same for Millie and for Esther…?”

“Esther?”

“A poor girl who has become a friend of mine.”

“What! Making friends so soon?”

“If you could see her you would like her. She is innocent, and her case is far more to be deplored than my own.”

“How I adore you, Carolan, for your anger and your enthusiasms, for your harshness and your kindness!”

“Then please make haste, for every moment spent in those irons is torment for my poor mother … and Millie and Esther are so hungry! But… can you do these things?”

“You shall witness the power of money, darling. But first we will have those irons off yourself, for it makes me very angry to see you fettered, Carolan.”

He went to the door. The turnkey appeared immediately. He must have been waiting there, thought Carolan, speculating on further opportunities of earning money.

In a short while all but one pair of irons were struck off Carolan.

“There!” said Marcus.

“You see my power, Miss Carolan! I am a magician … the magician of Newgate. I wave my wand ..” in this case it is coin… and it is as I say!”

“But Marcus …”

“Perhaps you had better call me William, for Marcus was a flippant fellow, never very much to you, your thoughts being all of a certain parson. But William is a different kettle of fish. He came into your life when the parson had left it…”

“How foolishly you talk!”

“No, Carolan! Do you think your parson will marry a wife who has been the guest of Newgate?”

“What difference does that make?”

“A hell of a difference, sweet Carolan, to a parson!”

“Rubbish!”

“Sound sense, sweetheart.”

“Please do not call me by those endearing names. I find it excessively irritating. I want to know … is it true that you are condemned to die?”

“The fate of all who escape from Botany Bay to be caught again generally.”

“You joke about it!”

“I can afford to, Carolan. It shall not happen to me, I promise you; or I should be very surprised if it did. You see, I have money, and money can buy almost anything a man can desire. It can buy love; it can buy life.”

“I do not agree with you.”

“Of course you do not. You would not be Carolan, whom I love, if you did. But, bless you my child, one day you will learn I am right. Not, I grant you, that it can buy these things in full measure. I can buy my life, but I doubt if I can buy my liberty. And as for buying love … let us not talk of it though, for I see the subject distresses you.”

“Do you think it will be long before the others can come to us ?”

“It will be done as quickly as money can do it.”

“You talk incessantly of money!” She must keep the conversation going somehow, and she averted her eyes from that table, for there was in her a wild longing to sit down and fall upon the food laid out there.

“Naturally! Money, money, money! One thinks of little else in Newgate. Now on my last visit I had no money. That, I said at the time, shall never again happen to me. Here, darling, eat one of these bread rolls while we await the others.”

She said faintly: “I would rather await Their coming. Will they be much longer?”

His eyes glistened, she saw; they were very tender. She was suddenly aware of what an unkempt spectacle she must present to those eyes. She touched her hair.

“What would I not give for a tub of warm water and a change of clothes!” she sighed.

“I wonder you recognize me.”

“I would recognize you, Carolan, whatever the disguise! But do not think of it. Let us sit down and eat while we await the others.”

“I said I would rather wait. The food would choke me when I thought of them in that foul place.”

“You are too sentimental, Carolan. Sentiment is well enough in its rightful place; but never let it stand in the way of common sense. Come, my child!”

There was a tap at the door which flew open without any response from Marcus. Eagerly she turned, but it was not those for whom she had hoped, but two turnkeys with more food which they set out on the table.

Carolan stared at the table.

“Come!” said Marcus.

“These little rye cakes are appetizing.”

He held one out to her; she could not resist it. She seized it and ate it ravenously. He watched her, well pleased. Then he went to her suddenly and seized her by the shoulders.

“Carolan! Carolan! I don’t despair,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she demanded, her mouth full.

“You are so sweetly human, but you were ever one to set yourself impossible tasks. And how I love you when you fail!”

“You talk the most arrant nonsense.”

“Do II Well, now I shall do something useful. I will carve the chicken.”

She watched. She felt faint with hunger. She ran to his side, and he, the carvers poised, looked over his shoulder and smiled mockingly into her eyes. He cut off a piece of the breast and put it into her mouth. Never had food tasted so good.

“More!” he said, and continued to feed her. And as she ate he laughed and kept murmuring her name.

“Carolan! Carolan! Oh, my sweet Carolan!”

“Here!” he cried.

“Wine to wash it down! We will both drink. Here, Carolan. To the future! To our future!”

The wine did strange things to her; made her light-headed. The room swam round and Marcus … Marcus, only was the one steady thing in a topsy-turvy world. She clutched his arm, half laughing, half crying.

“Marcus!” she said.

“Oh… Marcus!”

The door opened. There were Kitty and Millie and behind them, Esther. Carolan was ashamed that they should see her eating, with the glass of wine in her hand. She put down the glass unsteadily, and went to them.

“Why …” cried Kitty.

“It’s Marcus!”

Millie and Esther could only stare at the food.

“Come along!” cried Marcus.

“Sit down. We won’t waste time on formal greetings; we’ll talk as we eat.”

There he sat at the head of the table, watching them all… smiling queerly.

Kitty recovered herself almost as soon as she had drunk her first glass of wine. The striking off of all save one set of irons had brought great relief to her; she began to see daylight after the long dark night of torment. Marcus was delightfully familiar. To sit here, eating and drinking, the guest of a charming man, was stimulating. She was still in Newgate, she was still a prisoner, but things had changed.

Esther felt she was in a dream which had begun with the coming of Carolan into her life. Anything that was wonderful might happen now she was sure of it. She tried to suppress the unsuppressible desire to eat too quickly and too much.

Millie settled down at the table more naturally than any of the others; Millie was an animal who had suddenly come upon a patch of fertile land where grew the food she needed to keep her alive.

“What I want to know,” said Kitty, ‘is why you, a prisoner, can entertain guests in this manner and with such food and wine in Newgate?”

That is what I have been explaining to Carolan. It is the power of money. I merely send out for the food, and the turnkeys are paid well for their trouble in bringing it in.”