Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean - Страница 48

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She hesitated.

“If you would feel happier, I would walk in front and you could follow. I understand that you are not inclined to trust strangers, and that means that you have acquired some wisdom in the last hour.”

She was sorry for her seeming churlishness; she was absolutely certain that this man was no pickpocket.

“If you would show me the way, I should be most grateful,” she murmured.

“And please do not walk in front.”

He walked beside her, so that he was nearer the road to protect her from splashes of mud and filth if any vehicle came along the street. He kept a certain distance between them, as though he were trying to inspire her with confidence in him.

“Would you think me impertinent if I asked you your name?”

“Indeed no! It is Carolan Haredon.”

He seemed to be searching a list of names in his mind.

“Carolan Haredon,” he repeated.

“Let me see, I believe it is a Mr. and Mrs. Grey who keep the secondhand shop.”

“My… mother is Mrs. Grey,” said Carolan quickly.

“I see … I see…” Odd, the impression he gave of making a mental note of information!

But Carolan was too bewildered by all that had happened to give more than a passing thought to him. Her mother in a secondhand shop! Had she changed? She thought of Kitty … in her boudoir with Therese to dress her, and Sambo to sit at her feet… That Kitty … in a secondhand shop!

“My name,” the man beside her was saying, ‘is Jonathan Crew, at your service. And here is Grape Street… and see, there is number sixty!”

Number sixty was a small dark shop, and in its window and doorway hung garments of all descriptions. It was dingy and depressing, thought Carolan; her heart sank, and with her first glimpse went all the pretty pictures she had built up in her imagination. She stepped down into the dark interior of the shop, and Mr. Jonathan Crew followed her.

Almost immediately a door opened and a man appeared. He was the man she had seen in the wood.

“Father!” she cried.

He stared at her, without recognition.

“It is Carolan… your daughter,” she said.

“Is my mother here?”

“Carolan!” A smile broke out on the man’s face.

“Why… little Carolan! So it is!”

He took her face between his hands; her hood fell back, and her reddish hair gleamed even in the darkness of the shop. There were tears in the man’s eyes. He held her against him as though he loved her very dearly. He said: “Little daughter! Little daughter!” Then: “Kitty!” he called.

“Kitty!”

And all this time Jonathan Crew stood close to a bunch of old coats hanging in the doorway, and watched them.

Kitty came into the shop; she had put on a good deal of weight, and had changed subtly. She was the same beautiful Kitty, but the hair, without the ministrations of Therese, was untidy. She wore a pink frock with fine lace on it. but the pink material and the lace were none too clean. She saw Carolan. and screamed with delight.

“My darling child. My own darling child!”

Carolan ran to Kitty, and they embraced.

“Mamma, I could not stay away longer.”

“No, no, my love, of course you could not!”

“Mamma, you are truly glad to see me?”

Kitty laughed; it was the same spontaneous laugh that Carolan remembered well. Kitty held her at arm’s length and looked at her.

“How you have grown, my love I’ ” “Have I, Mamma?”

“Why, when I left you were only a baby.”

“Oh, no, Mamma, not a baby!”

“Then a very little girl.” Kitty held out a hand and drew Darrell into the magic family circle.

“Now I have both my darlings with me.” Carolan looked from one to the other.

“Is not your daughter a regular beauty, sir?” demanded Kitty.

“She is a sweet creature, and I am proud of her,” said Darrell shyly.

“But, darling,” said Kitty, ‘why did you not let us know you were coming?”

“There was not time.” A dark shadow crossed Carolan’s face.

“It is too much to talk of now. Mamma. I will tell you later. Mamma, there is one thing I must tell you… and you too.” She smiled shyly at Darrell.

“I shall not stay long, because I am going to be married.”

Kitty wiped her eyes.

“My own sweet darling, to marry! But you are but a child.”

“Rising seventeen!” said Carolan.

“Can you believe it, Darrell, my darling? And whom have they chosen for you, sweetheart?”

“They did not choose. Indeed they are not happy about the choice. Everard and I chose.”

“Everard? Everard Orland? The parson’s son?” Kitty laughed gaily.

“Well, he is a dear boy, and I am happy. He will make a good husband.”

“So I think,” said Carolan, And they all laughed, though Carolan noticed that there was something hollow about her father’s laughter, as though he had not learned how to do it properly.

“I have been robbed … twice!” cried Carolan, and then remembered Jonathan Crew.

“Oh…” she cried, and turned towards him; he emerged from the doorway and came slowly into the shop.

Darrell hastily took a step forward.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked. But Carolan rushed in with explanations.

“This gentleman was kind enough to bring me here. I was the victim of a second pickpocket, and he said the streets were unsafe and that he would show me the way.”

“Then we have to thank you, sir,” said Darrell.

“Carolan, my sweet!” said Kitty.

“You must be hungry; come along and we will eat.”

Darrell turned to Jonathan Crew.

“And you, sir you will take a glass with us? We would have you know that we are indeed grateful to you for bringing out daughter through these streets.”

“It is a kindness, and would be a pleasure,” said Mr. Crew, and all four of them went through a door into the shop parlour.

Pale sunshine, streaming through her window, awakened Carolan next morning. Just at first she could not remember where she was, for the room and its furniture were unfamiliar; a strange room indeed, full of shabby grandeur. The two armchairs, with their brocade coverings, had been splendid once; the carved table was a beauty; the curtains were rich though I torn in places and a little dirty.

The incidents of the day before crowded into Carolan’s mind. She remembered coming through the streets of London to her father’s shop; she remembered drinking a glass of ale with Their new friend, Mr. Crew, who had volunteered a little information about himself. He had a clerkship in a shipping company’s office on the river bank; he lived in the Grape Street neighbourhood because it was cheap and he found it interesting. He had little money, he said oddly, for any entertainment save the study of human nature and indeed there could not be a more interesting study, nor one that was kinder to the purse.

They had talked of him a little, after he had gone.

“An honest man,” said Darrell, ‘and one without pretensions.”

But Kitty had added: “A little on the dull side. Now I would have preferred my Carolan to have been brought here by a nobleman!”

“A nobleman in Grape Street!” laughed Darrell indulgently.

“That, my dear, is looking for an apple on a pear tree.”

“Indeed it is not!” retorted Kitty.

“Often enough I have heard of noblemen coming down to the poor parts of London, disguised as clerks or journeymen, or tinkers, or what you will. It is a new sport among the aristocracy.”

She was the same Kitty, painting rosy pictures of the life around her as she wanted it to be, not as it was.

Carolan stretched herself in bed and thought, I do believe she is trying to conjure up a romance for me and Mr. Crew, who, she is assuring herself, is a prince disguised as a clerk. And this in spite of what I have told her of Everard! Dear, inconsequent Mamma, to whom fidelity is an elastic quality to be stretched by her according to her need and mood of the moment.

Last night she had brought Carolan into this room, and had sat at the dressing-table, twirling her hair while the candlelight played about her face.

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