Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean - Страница 50

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It was her turn to flush, remembering the presents, hearing the slurring voice— “Now, Carrie, give me a kiss. By God, you are your mother all over again! Take all and give nothing.” Not the voice of a father! It was horrible.

“I hated Squire Haredon. You I could have loved.”

He said: “I’ll remember that, Carolan. I’ll remember it.” His heart was beating violently; it would be so good to tell her everything, not all at once of course, but gradually. Odd how he had wanted to talk! He had tried to talk to Kitty. He had told her a little, but she cried and said it was horrible, and he could not bear to make her cry, even though she would have forgotten it all by the morning. With Carolan it would have been different; she would have seen with him; she would have felt with him -humiliation, hunger, torture, desperation. He could not forget what had happened to him, and sometimes he craved to talk as a man will crave for drink. There she sat before him, with her small charming face so vital more so than Kitty’s had ever been and those wonderful green eyes that would flash in anger and sympathy simultaneously; the anger would be for his tormentors, the sympathy for him. No! Talking to Carolan would be a luxury he must deny himself.

He said: “Have you written to your lover yet?”

“No. I intend to do so today.”

He said: “Do so now; and I will take the letter and see that it is dispatched at once.”

He found her writing materials, cleared a space for her on the table, and went out to prepare for a journey, leaving her to write.

Carolan sat at the table and conjured up a picture of Everard, and then began.

Dearest Everard, No doubt you will be surprised to hear from me that I have left Haredon. I found it impossible to stay there. Charles and the squire made it impossible. Please understand me: there seemed but one thing to do, and that to get away quickly; there seemed to be one place to go to, and that the house of my parents. So I am here, dearest Everard, as you will see, at number sixty Grape Street. My father is very, very kind, and my mother is glad to see me. They have the oddest shop, and I hope to help them, but I also hope that it will not be long before you come for me or tell me to come to you. I think of you continually, Everard, and if you should think it was wrong of me to leave Haredon so hastily, please try to understand that I could not stay; I can explain more fully when we meet. My father is going to take this letter and dispatch it for me; he is ready to go out now. Darling Everard, it is only one month since you said au revoir to me; it seems like one year. Two months seems an age. I am longing to see you, darling.

Your ever constant Carolan.

It took a long time to write the letter. She wanted to show him, without actually asking him to do so, that he must break his promise to his mother because her need of him was urgent.

When she read the letter through it sounded cold; it did not adequately express her feelings. She would have written another, had she not known that her father was ready, waiting to go out.

He took the letter and put it into his pocket. He sat on the edge of the table, looking down at her.

He said: “Do you think he will come for you before the two months are up, Carolan?”

“I do not know. He has given his promise…”

“I do not understand how he could give such a promise; not to see you for three months… that seems to me incredible.”

“You do not know Everard. He does not get excited as I do. He thinks clearly; he measures his actions. He loves me; indeed he must, for I shall have to try very hard to be a suitable wife for him; he knows this, but he wants to marry me all the same. He loves his parents … though not as he loves me, but, because beside his love for me his love for them is insignificant, he would try to hide that and be doubly eager that they should not be hurt. So he gave this promise, much as it grieved him to give it. Do you understand. Father?”

He nodded.

“My child, I hope that you will be very, very happy; that you will know a happiness which was denied to me and to your mother.”

Her eyes filled with tears of pity. She could understand their agony now that she knew what it was to love. To be separated for three months from a loved one was sad, but to be separated for years… that was torture. Impulsively she took his hands -his tortured hands and covered them with kisses.

“My sweet Carolan,” he said.

“My sweet daughter.” He tapped the pocket containing the letter.

“I will dispatch this immediately. Carolan, did you beg him to come… at once ?”

She shook her head.

“He has given his promise, Father. I could not ask him to break it.”

He said: “My daughter, life can be cruel; delay is dangerous. You know in a small measure what happened to me and to your mother. I could not bear that you should lose your happiness. Love is all; what is a paltry promise compared with the love of two young people! Take the letter. Add a sentence. Say “Come to me without delay! I need you!” Say that. Carolan.”

There was almost a command in his burning eyes. She broke open the letter, and wrote at the end of it: “Everard, please, please come for me … at once. Don’t wait, Everard, please.” And there was a frantic appeal in those words, for the burning eyes of her father frightened her.

She re-sealed the letter and handed it back to bun.

“He will come,” he said confidently.

“He would not be able to stay away from you…” He went on: “Carolan, what shall you do today?”

“I shall find plenty to do. Remember I have never set foot in London before, and from what I have seen I find it most exciting-‘ “Do not go out, my child. Wait; I shall show you London. But do not go out unaccompanied. It is unfortunate that today I have urgent business, but that will not always be so. I shall take you to Ranelagh, my child. I will take you to hear the talk in the coffee-houses. We shall sit by the river and watch the barges go by. We shall go to the playhouse.”

“I think I am going to enjoy my stay in London, Father.”

“I intend that you shall, child. But for today, promise me this -stay in. The neighbourhood, as you have gathered, is not one in which a gentlewoman should walk alone nor, my dear, are many places in this big city. But give me your word that you will not venture out until I can accompany you.”

“Of course I give my word.”

“Why do you smile?”

“Because it is so good to have an anxious parent. No one bothered whether I went out or stayed in before.”

“London is different from the country.”

“Still, nobody ever cared before.”

“Millie will be here at nine, Carolan.”

“Millie?”

“Our little maid.”

“Ah! I wondered how the work was done. I could not quite imagine Mamma…”

They smiled together.

“No,” he said, “I should not care for your mother to soil her hands. So there is Millie.”

“She does not live here?”

“No, she lives at the end of the street. She comes in at nine o’clock and goes at four. We like it better that she should not spend the night here; we prefer to be alone. She is a little simple, poor Millie.”

“I see.”

“She will be here soon, and will open the shop.”

“But can she deal with customers?”

“There are few customers.”

She looked at him anxiously. That would account for the worry lines about his brow. He was finding it a terrible struggle to make ends meet. And no wonder! Not only was the shop in the wrong neighbourhood, but there was no one to attend to customers when he had to go out no one but a girl who was ‘simple’. How could he hope for a prosperous business!

He saw her thoughts and patted her hands.

“Do not frown, little daughter. I am doing very well; this is a fine business, and very soon I shall retire. It will be to a house in the country, a house which my daughter and her husband … and their children… will not be ashamed to visit.”

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