Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean - Страница 9
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And now this niece. Disdainful beauty! He would surely be impressed, but he wasn’t the sort to press where he wasn’t wanted. And who was the young man with the girl when she had got out of the coach, looking at her with those dove’s eyes? This was going to be exciting, if a little dangerous.
It might be a good idea to find out all she could. Knowledge usually came in useful. She had a sharp tongue it was one of the things which amused the squire. It was an easy matter to get into his bed; any kitchenmaid could do that; the art lay in staying there.
“You had a pleasant journey?” she asked conversationally.
“Good companions?”
“Very.”
“I thought one of the young men who got out of the coach looked as if he might be a charming travelling companion.” How easy it was to make her blush.
Did you?”
“Yes. I thought he had specially friendly glances for you.”
“I think,” said Kitty slowly, ‘that you must be referring to Mt. Grey. His uncle, he was telling us, lives in Exeter.”
“Mr. Grey … I do not know him. You see, I came here only four years ago. I don’t know Mr. Grey, but as I said, he is a personable young man and, I should think, a pleasant travelling companion.”
She would garnish the story of this journey she would tell the squire with a description of the flushing young woman who had perhaps been a little indiscreet with a handsome Mr. Grey. She could always make Haredon laugh, and when she made him laugh she was the mistress of the situation … always. She even thought at such times that he really was imagining her at his table, entertaining his guests; after all, it would soon be forgotten that she had come to his house as governess to his children and had been his mistress before she became Ms wife.
Kitty said quickly, to turn the conversation from Darrell: “And you… you are a friend of Squire Haredon’s?”
Jennifer’s head tilted proudly.
“I am in charge of his children.”
“That must be interesting. Tell me about the children.”
“There are two of them. Margaret is nearly two years old; Charles is five.”
Kitty smiled encouragingly. It was more pleasant to think of the squire as a family man.
“I am fond of children; and you must be too. since you have chosen the task of taking care of them.”
“I did not choose it it was thrust upon me. I was at a school for young ladies when my father died suddenly. It was a shock to me to learn that I was penniless. There was nothing to do but earn my living it had not been intended that I should so I acquired this post! Margaret was not born then.” Her eyes were sly, Kitty thought, and wondered what made them so. Jennifer was thinking of her arrival at Haredon, and of the interest she had aroused in the squire right from the beginning; hotly pursuing in those days; quite gallant; now he blew hot and cold. She had been sorry for poor Amelia, but that had not stopped her from thinking of Amelia’s husband. Amusing! Great fun. keeping him at bay! He could be so angry when frustrated; he had no finesse, the great bull! But when Amelia had died that had seemed like fate. Good God, she needed luck. He would marry again. Weakly, but with an element of cunning, she gave in to him; she had thought that was the way. Perhaps it was; she wasn’t sure. She had that in her which could enslave a man … up to a point. She looked at the girl opposite with faint contempt. She was too sure of her beauty, that girl, to think of much else, and beauty was not all-sufficient; wit came into it; the power to make a man laugh, to find the vulnerable spot. Cleverness was every bit as important as beauty. When she thought of that she was stimulated.
“Oh…” said Kitty, ‘the squire’s wife…”
“She is dead.”
Now why did her eyes cloud suddenly like that, as though she were sorry Amelia had died? Soft, this girl! But those eyes, that skin and that mouth, He must be interested, if only momentarily. I “It was after the birth of Margaret; she went to be churched. It was in November, and November can be a damp, unhealthy month in this part of the world.”
“Poor lady!” said Kitty.
“And poor little children!”
“They are well looked after,” said Jennifer almost tartly, and then the secret smile twisted her lips. And so is the squire, she said to herself. I “You know my aunt?” asked Kitty.
Jennifer tossed her head.
“I have not visited her,” she said with scorn.
“A governess does not visit the gentry.”
The carriage rolled on. Kitty closed her eyes: she was not looking at the immediate future; she was looking beyond, to marriage with Darrell.
“You are doubtless tired,” said Jennifer.
“Close your eyes and doze a little.”
Kitty smiled and kept her eyes closed: it removed the necessity of talking to Jennifer, for which she was rather pleased. There was something about the little woman, strange and unfathomable, that was almost anger, and Kitty never had any real desire to fathom. She thought of Darrell, of the fine down on his cheeks and the sudden hard pressure of his mouth on hers.
Harriet heard the carriage draw up, and went out to receive her niece.
She gasped at the sight of Kitty. A young woman, a sophisticated London young woman with clothes that were much too fine for the country, who appeared so startlingly like Bess that she felt the resentment she had always felt towards her pretty sister surging up in her. And with her, that creature from Haredon, looking demure enough in her sober cape; but whenever Harriet saw her she could not shut out of her mind the stories she had heard; imagination could be a mocking enemy ill forced pictures into your mind, and though you tried to ignore them and make your mind a blank, the pictures remained.
Kitty stepped out of the carriage, and the coachman brought in her baggage.
Most definitely, decided Harriet, that creature should not be asked in to drink a glass of cowslip wine. It was really very thoughtless of George to send her to meet a niece of Harriet Ramsdale. If the stories one heard of this woman were true, it was a wicked thing for George to have sent her. Unchastity in George himself was forgivable, because God had made men unchaste creatures; but the women, without whom of course the unchastity of men could not have been, were pariahs, to be despised, to be turned from, to be left to suffer the results of unbridled sin and wickedness. She hated to think of it; she would rather think of her cool still-room or garden laid out with her own hands. But when she was near women such as this one. pictures forced themselves into her mind and would not be ousted.
“Kitty!” she said, and took the girl’s hand. Bess’s eyes and Bess’s mouth! Her skin was flushed and her dress was too low-cut and revealing. Harriet thought uneasily: Is this going to be Bess all over again?
She said: “I have a meal waiting for you.” Then she looked through the carriage window.
“I shall convey my thanks to the squire.” Jennifer’s head was tilted higher and her eyes were really insolent. The first thing Harriet would do, if she married the squire, would be to dismiss that girl.
As Harriet led her through the door to the cool hall, Kitty heard a movement on the stairs, and saw two young excited faces peering down at her. She took off her hat and put it on the oak chest there. Harriet looked at it could not stop looking at it. It was such a ridiculous hat and, lying there, it spoiled the order of the orderly house.
“I do not like litter, my dear. Take up your hat; you can hang it in a cupboard I have cleared in your room.”
Kitty felt chilled by the neatness all around her. Tears suddenly stung her eyelids, and she thought of her mother’s apartment with the cosmetics arrayed before her mirror, and the trail of powder across her dressing-table, and the fluffy garments flung down anywhere. Oh, to be back there! But then she would not have met Darrell, and loving and being loved by Darrell was going to be glorious. She smiled dazzlingly. Harriet was a little shocked by the smile; it expressed such confidence in life, and she, a good and virtuous woman whose future was secure, had never felt that confidence. Bess had had it though; here was Bess all over again.
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