Beyond the Blue Mountains Read online

  wearing fine lace at his throat and wrists. And Harriet, one of the few women who had never made him feel a spark of desire, was standing before him getting excited because he complimented her on her sloe wine.

  Cruelty leaped up into his eyes. He was always most cruel when his pride was touched. Inwardly he laughed at Harriet, because Harriet’s niece had scorned him. He foresaw fun; he was a man of his age, and fun to him meant laughing at someone in a weaker position than the one he enjoyed himself.

  Life had been unkind to him. First offering Bess, then snatching her away; and then he had married Amelia. Poor long-suffering Amelia, whose mild submission to his passionate onslaughts infuriated him. She thought him coarse and vulgar; she had never said so; she was too deeply aware of her wifely duty to criticize her husband, but unspoken criticism had been more difficult to bear for a man of his temperament. He had determined to put her out of countenance; perhaps that was why he had flaunted Jennifer before her.

  He thought of Jennifer now, as he smiled at Harriet over the sloe wine. Jennifer’s fierce little body: Jennifer’s parted lips. Jennifer was a devil, but she amused him more than anyone had amused him since Bess; she gave him something of that satisfaction which he had always believed he would have got from Bess. Passionate and calculating, she was clever, methodically clever; she wanted to step up from children’s nurse and general housekeeper to mistress of the house. He knew it it made him laugh.

  “What’s the point of marrying you, Jennifer? What do I get out of it, eh? I mean what more do I get out of it?” He could be decidedly cruel and blunt. He liked to watch her rage; he liked to see her stalk to the door, threaten to leave his house; he liked all that. He had said: “Be reasonable, Jennifer. Why should I marry you? You want children? All right have children!” What a rage she was in! But she wouldn’t go; she hoped she would beat him in the end. Never, Jennifer! Never, my dear!

  He rocked backwards and forwards on his heels, and looked at Harriet.

  “How you manage this house so well, with just those two sluts. I don’t know, Harry. I really do not. But soon you’ll be having your niece to help you.”

  Harriet tossed her head.

  “I’m not hoping for much from that quarter, I can tell you, George Haredon.”

  He smiled; then he thought of her sitting in the window seat, looking so like Bess that he wanted to kill or make love to her, or perhaps both. When he half-closed his eyes he could almost see the red blood in them. He opened them and saw Harriet, very proud of her neat and orderly home, straight from her still-room. She’s got a body like a board! he thought, and tried to imagine himself married to her. Different from marriage to Amelia, of course, for however similar, no two women were alike. More spirit than Amelia, this one had. Would it be possible to raise the blacksmith’s daughter in her.

  Harriet cast down her eyes. He is thinking of marriage, she sensed; and she was faintly alarmed. The marriage in her , thoughts would be very different from a marriage of reality. She took a step backwards.

  “Ah!” he said.

  “I got the idea that you were having the girl here to help you in the house.”

  “Help me!” She was the outraged housewife.

  “I can run my own house, thank you, George. I’m having her because it is my duty to have her. Could I let her stay in London with the company her mother doubtless kept!”

  “Nevertheless,” said the squire slowly, ‘she has kept that company.” A dull anger burned suddenly in him. Doubtless she had, and how haughty she had been with him!

  “I shall be severe with her, if I find it necessary,” said Harriet.

  “She will lead a sheltered life here with me. meeting only my friends.”

  “What a wise woman you are, Harriet!” He smacked his lips over the sloe wine.

  “Another, George?”

  Thank you, Harriet. I could not say no to wine like yours.” When he took the glass from her his fingers touched hers. She was calm, though aware of that gesture, he thought. He wanted to laugh. Queer, how sane women like Harriet Ramsdale had their crazy moments! And she was crazy; he thought of the two of them together like mating a bull with a hinny!

  “You’re amused, George. May I ask you to share the joke?”

  “No joke really just enjoying the wine and your company. But what I came for. Harriet, was this. She’ll come to Exeter. I suppose?”

  “Why, yes.”

  “The coach is due in this evening. You’re meeting her?”

  “I thought of driving in the trap.”

  “A long journey for you. Harry. How’d it be if I sent one of my coachmen with the carriage? Jennifer could go to bear her company on the way back.”

  Her eyes glittered a little as she raised them to his.

  “It’s a very kind offer, George. But what trouble to put you to!”

  He laid a hand on her shoulder. Boney, she was; bonier than Amelia. Never did like thin women, thought the squire.

  “I’d like to do it for you, Harriet.”

  “Well, George! Well!”

  Coy as a schoolgirl, and immensely gratified! He felt suddenly flat.

  “I’ll be getting along, Harriet. I’ll send Jennifer in to meet the girl’ She stood at the door, watching him go striding out to his waiting carriage. Why, she wondered, had he not spoken? She had been sure he was going to.

  Leave-taking was difficult. They sat side by side in the coach now, their hands touching.

  Darrell whispered: “I shall be thinking of you every minute until I see you again.”

  “And that will be soon,” she answered.

  He knew her aunt’s house. It stood back from the road, and near it was a little wood; if she came out of her aunt’s house and turned right she would see the wood. It would shelter them for their first meeting, and .that should be tomorrow evening at eight o’clock. It would be better to wait for evening. He would come to her on his uncle’s chestnut mare, and wait for her just inside the wood; he would tell her what his Uncle Gregory had said about their marrying, because that was a matter he would discuss with him at the earliest possible moment.

  “It is not real parting,” said Kitty, and smiled up at his clear-cut, handsome face and rather delicate features.

  The coach rumbled on. The merchant and the matron were discussing Exeter, and every occupant of the coach was excited because they were nearing the end of the long journey. Under cover of such conversation it was possible to exchange vows of eternal affection.

  “I thought you were wonderful, when I first saw you. I could just see your mouth; your hat hid the rest of your face.” She laughed softly and pressed closer to him.

  “You stared so!”

  “How could I help that?” he murmured.

  “And Kitty … now I have got to know you I’ve learned that you are more wonderful than I ever thought anyone could be.”

  He kissed her ear, and they laughed and laughed round the coach. Had anyone seen? Who cared if they had.

  The coach rumbled into Exeter and pulled up in the inn yard. The door was flung open.

  “Perhaps,” whispered Kitty, “I had better not introduce you to-my aunt… yet. Perhaps it would be better to wait a while and see…”

  There was bustling to and fro whilst the luggage was unloaded. Kitty stood with her bags beside her, looking around her for Aunt Harriet.

  A woman was coming towards her a small woman in a dark cloak and hood. She stood before her; she had sharp, darting black eyes.

  “Are you Miss Kitty Kennedy, who is on her way to Miss Ramsdale?”

  “Why, yes. Are you… my Aunt Harriet?”

  Laughter shook the thin shoulders momentarily.

  “No. But I have come to meet you. I have a carriage here to take you to your aunt’s house.” She looked round and beckoned; a man came and picked up Kitty’s bags.

  Kitty turned and smiled at Darrell who had stood by, watching. His face looked bleak, she thought, but there was no time to ponder on that
, for her companion was hurrying her into a carriage.

  The door slammed. The woman sat back, studying Kitty, and Kitty studied her.

  She had thrown back the hood of her cape and disclosed dark, rather frizzy hair; her brows were dusky, her dark eyes large yet alert. Kitty felt them taking in every detail of her appearance. She wondered if she were a servant of her Aunt Harriet’s; her manner was a little arrogant, hardly that of a servant.

  The carriage rolled out of the yard.

  “Do tell me your name,” said Kitty.

  “Jennifer Jay.”

  “And my aunt…”

  “I have come to meet you on Squire Haredon’s behalf.” She stopped, watching the colour flood into the girl’s face.

  “But,” stammered Kitty, ‘why? I was going to my Aunt Harriet…”

  “So you are. But Squire Haredon thought it would be helpful … to your aunt… to send his carriage.”

  “I see. He is very friendly with my aunt?”

  A scornful smile twisted the woman’s mouth.

  “He has known her for a number of years.” Jennifer leaned forward.

  “I expect you are very like your mother.”

  “I am supposed to be. You knew my mother?”

  “Hardly! She left this place years ago, did she not? I am twenty-one. Besides, I did not live here as a child.”

  “It was good of Squire Haredon to send his carriage.”

  “He is a generous man… at times,” said Jennifer.

  Yes, she was thinking, why had he gone to all this trouble for Harriet Ramsdale? She wanted to marry him, the sly old virgin! And she thought no one knew it. She, Jennifer, knew it; even those half-witted sluts, who worked for her, knew it. The squire knew it; there were times when she could almost get him to laugh with her over it. There were times when it was possible to get almost anything out of the squire. But he was hot tempered; the last time she had mentioned Harriet’s name he had shut her up roughly; she had thought he was going to strike her. It wouldn’t have been the first time, brute that he was, Like a great bull sometimes, rushing at you angrily … and then getting amorous. A smile lifted the side of her mouth.

  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.