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

In time? What could ever quell this wild longing she had for him, rogue though she knew him to be? But he should never know how she felt.

Mrs. Masterman had spilt medicine down her satin dress. Carolan took it into the toilet-room and was sponging it when Mr. Masterman came though. He paused in the doorway and said “Oh!” Then he hesitated.

She did not lift her head, for she did not care what became of her now. She wanted something to happen to take her thoughts from Marcus.

“If you wish me to go, please say so,” she said.

There was silence. She went on rubbing the frock, and when she glanced over her shoulder he had taken a few steps nearer to her. She looked at him coldly.

“It is of no importance,” he said.

He stood watching her; at any other time she would have thought this strange but she had no thought for anything but Marcus and Clementine Smith … together.

He ventured: “You … you like the change of work?”

She stopped rubbing and looked full at him. There was the faintest flicker of warmth in his eyes. She disliked his fairness; he had scarcely any eyebrows, so that he had a look of surprise.

“I hated the kitchen work,” she said.

“I can see you have not been used to it, nor work of any kind.”

She was silent, returning to her work; there was insolence in the gesture, as though she were dismissing him, and she was surprised at her own temerity.

“Usually,” he began quite angrily, ‘with convict servants…” and he laid strong emphasis on the words, but faltered after them, for he had seen a tear drop from her eyes on to his wife’s blue satin gown. She too stared at the tear and made to cover it with her hand. She looked over her shoulder and there he was, disappearing through the communicating door.

Marcus looked in at the window. Carolan was sitting at the table, cleaning silver. Margery shrank into her chair. She was frightened; she wished she had not told.

Esther, at the sink, turned, and what she believed to be a carefully guarded secret was written on her face for all to see.

“Carolan!” he said.

“Here I am!” He was laughing; he had good white strong teeth, and never, thought Margery, was a man more sure of a welcome, never was a man going to be so swiftly disillusioned.

Carolan did not rise.

“Carolan!” he said again with a faint edge of fear in his voice, and leaped into the room.

“Jin!” said Margery, her voice sharp with agitation.

“Poll! Go into the bedroom; it’s shocking untidy. See you get to work, and don’t you dare to stir till I say so!”

They went reluctantly, but Marcus had no glances for them, no smile, no bow. He was looking at the profile of Carolan, turned from him slightly, aloof, those beautiful lashes downcast, hiding the burning fury in her eyes.

“Carolan!” he said once more, and took two paces towards the table. She picked up a silver dish and seemed very earnest about the polishing of it.

“Are you not glad to see me?” he asked, and laid a hand on her shoulder.

She threw him off imperiously.

“Please do not touch me. And please do not look so surprised that I do not wish you to touch me; I am not one of your Lucys and Clementines!”

It was out. She, who had intended to be so cold and haughty, had been betrayed by that tone of hers. He recoiled as if from an unexpected blow. What had he hoped? That she would never discover? To tell her himself some day … years ahead?

I shouldn’t have told, thought Margery miserably. In a minute he’ll want to know who told her, and she’ll tell him, and that’ll be the end of me as fat as. he’s concerned.

“You have been listening to evil tales of me.”

“I have been hearing the truth.”

“Will you not let me explain?”

“I have no wish for more explanation, Marcus. Please go away;

I have this silver to clean.”

He sat on the table. He would work himself out of this, he would, Margery knew it. With most women he’d only have to kiss and say that whoever he had had only made him appreciate her the more, and she’d be weak as water. But not so Miss Carolan. Strong and proud, and ready to cut off her pretty nose to spite her lovely face.

“Listen to me please,” he said, his voice sweet as honey.

“I prefer not to!” she answered, hers acid as vinegar.

“Esther!” he said.

“You will listen to me?”

She came from the sink, wiping her hands. Her delight in him set colour in her face, made it young and very sweet, and her glorious hair was wonderfully beautiful.

Esther said: “Oh, Carolan, you should never condemn unheard.”

“How wearying you are, Esther! You remember Flash Jane, the prostitute on board the convict ship? Here is the male counterpart. How shocked he looks! He need not be, need he, Esther? We have met many of his kind since we entered Newgate.”

“Carolan …” said Esther, almost in tears. The silly little fool, thought Margery, didn’t she see that her only hope was in estranging these two!

He was hurt and angry; he would not look at Carolan now.

He said to Esther: “You have some kindness in you, Esther. You are not the sort to condemn unheard. You cannot understand what I suffered when I was last in this country … the agony, the torture. Things have not changed much; the lash has lost none of its sting; it is applied as heedlessly. Chains about one’s limbs, while one works on the roads in the heat of the midsummer sun! Just enough food to keep a man alive! Misery! Torment! Solitary confinement! Until one has suffered it, how can one understand! To have undergone a second term such as the one I endured before would have finished me, physically and spiritually. Anything was preferable, Esther.”

“Of course,” said Esther.

“I understand. I do. I do. If you repent now, all your sins will be forgiven.”

Carolan said: “He repents now; of course he repents! He has chosen the right moment for his repentance; he probably knew before he left England that he would repent at this precise moment.”

“Oh, please! Please!” said Esther.

“Stop quarrelling!”

“We are not quarrelling. We are not speaking to one another, so how can we quarrel? Why should I bother to tell him that he is despicable!”

Marcus said hotly: “And why should I tell her that she has no softness in her, no loving kindness, no understanding; only a set of stupid morals!”

Carolan laughed cruelly.

“Yes, Esther, of course I am very stupid; but not quite as stupid as some people might think. I am not deceived as easily as some might think to deceive me. Do you remember a certain late afternoon when we lay becalmed in the tropics, Esther, and they seemed to forget that we were convict beasts to be battened down under our hatches? They let us lie on deck. To be sure the sun was unbearable, but we thought ourselves lucky to get a breath of fresh air. Do you remember that, Esther? And do you remember how we talked to him, the two of us, and a dark-haired imperious lady had us ordered below? Do you know why, Esther? She was jealous. She was jealous because he was with us. She was coming out on the convict ship with him because she loved him so much. And when she arrived she saw that he was assigned to her as her servant, her very loving servant. I recognized her or I thought I did when I took coffee in to her and Mrs. Masterman. Now I know. Now it is all clear to me.”

Esther looked at Marcus.

“It is true, Esther,” he said.

“Now she has told you what a rogue I am, will you turn from me ?”

“Very pathetic, is he not!” said Carolan, throwing the words over her shoulder.

A shadow darkened the window then. They all looked towards it at once, and saw a man standing there, a man in a mulberry coloured coat and riding breeches. He was grinning.

“Ah!” said Marcus.

“My friend, my master, Tom Blake.” The corners of the man’s mouth were like the horns of the crescent moon. His teeth were small and white; his eyes small and shrewd; his hair so curly and shiny that it looked grizzled. His age appeared to be somewhere in the early thirties.