Beyond the Blue Mountains Page 8

  The heat in the church was stifling, and the smell of September flowers seemed to overpower her with their sweetness, During the ceremony she was aware of the squire as a pair of hands powerful hands that frightened her, for their strength was great indeed. She thought of Darrell’s hands, long and slender … clever, kindly hands, and wondered if they were roughened now after weeks at sea. What was happening to Barrel!? Terrible things? Cruel things? But not more terrible, Darrell, she thought, than this cruel thing which has happened to me. And if he returned, what then?

  “Wherever you are, Darrell,” she murmured to herself, ‘whatever happens, if you need me I will come to you.”

  The ceremony was over. People crowded about them. The squire was blustering, full of good humour, exuberantly slapping people on the back; having a joke here, a laugh there. His hands longed to caress her, but there was in him a newly born tenderness which subdued his roughness just a little; it was an attempt to please her which was somehow pathetic, because obviously he had rarely thought of pleasing, but chiefly of being pleased.

  She wondered then, if she confessed everything to him, whether he would be kind and tender and promise to look after her until Darrell came back. She laughed at herself. The gentleness in him was a frail plant soon to be hidden and stifled, by the thick growth of other more natural emotions.

  He whispered into her ear: “Cheer up, my dear. You’re not going to the scaffold I Did you think you were?”

  She forced herself to laugh.

  “No! Why should I? Is it a custom in Devon to hang one’s bride?”

  He guffawed with pleasure; laughter came easily to him when he was happy as easily as rage came when he was irritated.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “But I promise, if you please me, you shall be allowed to live.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir! You are indeed a bounteous squire and husband.”

  His great hand well-nigh crushed hers.

  “A squire I have been for years. Kitty, but I feel I have never been a husband until now.”

  His face was close; there was moisture on his lips. She laughed; laughed at herself for imagining she could hold him off, could explain that he was not to touch her but to let her live in his house until Darrell came to her.

  She sat beside him at the table. The smell of the food sickened her, and the warmth of his body as he bent close to her nauseated her. He drank a good deal; he filled her glass. He kissed her ear. and she could feel his teeth against her skin.

  And the day passed into evening. The squire led her in the dance, and the musicians played gaily in the gallery round the hall. There was more drinking and singing and dancing, but the squire never left her side the whole evening. But the evening could not last for ever; she felt as though she were holding back the night with frantic hands while the squire beckoned it impatiently.

  “The bride looks weary!” murmured the guests, and they whispered together and tittered, making references to the nuptial bed. The squire laughed with them, but the tenderness stayed in his eyes.

  Peg and Dolly helped her out of her gown, and prepared her for her bridegroom. She noticed that Peg’s eyes were still red from weeping. They soothed her and patted her but they did not know how to comfort her.

  She lay in the big bed and shivered, and called to Darrell, and prayed to her mother. She waited for a miracle, but all that came was the squire’s step outside her door, and then his heavy breathing as he stood close to the bed.

  Strange days followed for Kitty, warm days with evenings drawing in and autumn showing itself in the changing leaves and morning mists. It was a period of waiting.

  Her feeling for George was not easy to define, nor did it occur to her to define it. His embraces could fill her with repulsion and yet excite her; his sudden change from an almost brutal passion to a gentleness which was pathetic because it sat so uneasily upon him, fostered in her a certain affection for him. Her need to be desired and possessed was satisfied, though her need to love was not; but she found it difficult to differentiate between desire and love, and did not understand herself.

  As for George, he was delighted with his marriage. He thought her very desirable; shrinking at times, afraid of him -but then, he liked his women to be afraid of him; at other times there was a hint of passion in her that seemed reluctant to show itself but could not remain entirely hidden. It fascinated him; he longed to rouse it; it made him feel that, possessing her, he was still the hunter, and there was great zest in the chase. He played a game of make-believe with himself, pretending she was Bessa Bess who had miraculously remained young for him. He was pleased with life. She was a wonderful toy, and, because he did I not understand entirely how she worked, his passion did not I diminish; it was nurtured on the mystery of her. He was happy. He liked to be soft with her, indulge her, show her how truly gentle he could be when he loved; but there were times when he must show his strength; then he would catch her unexpectedly and crush her and force her and feel her resentful and wait for the sudden rising of passion in her. Sometimes when he was in a complacent mood, he imagined she feigned reluctance to please him; then he let himself believe he was the centre of her life and that her thoughts were occupied in his pleasure.

  The days slipped into weeks. Kitty felt a fondness for the house growing in her; it was so big that she could hide herself in it; sometimes, when she heard George calling her, she would hide in one of the attics and feel completely shut away and safe; but one could not remain hidden for long, any more than one could keep a secret for ever. But she had her mother’s gift of living in the present; something might happen, she told herself, so that her secret would never be discovered, and, wishing it, she began to believe it.

  It was pleasant to be mistress of such a place as Haredon. The servants took to her; the housekeeper would discuss the running of the house with her in an indulgent way.

  “The dear little thing!” said the housekeeper.

  “She is not one to poke and pry.” And indeed she was not; she could offer interest without interference. Peg and Dolly, whom she had brought with her, gave her an excellent reference in the servants’ hall.

  “A dearer, sweeter creature never lived!” Dolly declared, and she and Peg showed the gifts Kitty had bestowed upon them, and never thought of whispering a word of those secret meetings with Darrell. There was one, of course, who was not pleased with her presence in the house; that was Jennifer Jay. Kitty heard whisperings of the squire’s relations with Jennifer; that was inevitable. She was sorry for Jennifer. Jennifer’s trouble was just another of those which beset the stormy lives of women. She tried to be friendly, but the glittering eyes of the woman alarmed her a little, and she had a feeling that Jennifer beat little Margaret for being so ready with kisses for her new mamma.

  The time came when she must tell of the baby. It would be better to tell, she thought, than to be discovered. She decided that she must explain everything to her husband.

  It was October. He had been hunting all day. and she had stayed in her room rehearsing what she would say to him. She had planned it all, beginning with the meeting in the coach; she had to make him understand how deeply she and Darrell had loved.

  “I should have told you before I married you,” she would say, for indeed that was what she should have done, ‘but I was frightened, George, so terribly frightened…”

  She knew just how she would appeal to him. She felt exalted, almost unafraid … until she heard his voice downstairs. Then she thought of his anger, and how terrible that could be; and she thought of being turned out of his house, and what had happened to the girl who had loved one of his grooms.

  He came hastily up the stairs.

  “Kitty!” he called in his lusty voice, and she trembled.

  As he came in she stood up, her back to the window, so that he might not see her face.

  “Ah!” he said. There you are. Why the devil didn’t you come down to welcome me home?”

  He was laughing, not
ill-pleased; his face was flushed with exercise and ale. It had been a good day, she saw.

  He strode over to her and took her into his amis; he bent her backwards roughly and kissed her.

  “Why, what’s the matter?” he said.

  “You’re white as a ghost.”

  She was still trembling, and she could not hide it.

  He said: “Why, Kitty?” and the tenderness was in his eyes again, and she felt her resistance weakening.

  “George! There is something I must tell you… I do not know what you will say … I have been meaning to tell you for so long…” His hands were on her shoulders, hurting her; he was always so rough with his great hands. The words came out weakly: “George … there is going to bea baby!”

  Fearfully she looked up at him. Now was the moment. Now. His lips were moving, though no sound came from them. She stared. Was that a glaze of tears in his eyes? It was incredible.

  She had expected some crude remark: then she could have compared him with Darrell, have hated him, have said what she had prepared herself to say.

  He murmured: “Kitty! It is the grandest news. We are going to have a family, Kitty!”

  He threw off his sentimental mood. He was exuberant. He lifted her off her feet and gave her a great smacking kiss on the mouth.

  Downstairs in the hall under the portraits of his ancestors he made the servants drink to the health of the child that was coming.

  The children called her into the nursery.

  “Jennifer is out for the afternoon!” whispered Charles.

  “So you must come and tell us a story,” added Margaret.

  They climbed over her and touched the brooch at her throat. George had given her that only the other day; he delighted in giving her things. He had changed in the last weeks, since he had known of the coming of the child. He gave her little glimpses into his inner nature, told her of how he had felt about Bess, and how he had suffered when she had left him. It was unlike the squire to talk of weakness in himself, but he was so pleased with his life, so enchanted by the prospect of their both being parents of the same child, that he let her peer now and then behind his defences. He was not a monster, after all; just a man, very human, full of hopes and desires and aspirations.

  “You are our new mamma.” announced Margaret; and she and Charles laughed because it seemed so amusing to them that they should suddenly be presented with a new mamma.

  “You see,” explained Charles, ‘until now Margaret never had a mamma at all. and I only had one for a very little time.”

  “Jennifer says you’re not a real mamma.”

  “She says you’re a stepmamma!”

  They watched her from under their eyelashes. Jennifer had said stepmammas hated their stepchildren, beat them and made faces at them in the dark.

  They could not talk of these things, but they were there between them and their desire to love Kitty. For minutes at a time they forgot them though. They showed her their picture books and toys. They had opened Jennifer’s cupboard, when Jennifer came in. Kitty actually had the love potion in her hand when the door opened.

  Jennifer stiffened, and her face went dark red with hatred.

  “Good afternoon, Jennifer,“said Kitty.

  Jennifer said: “Good afternoon. Madam.”

  It was Kitty who apologized.

  “The children so wanted to show me round…”

  “And you so wanted to see. Madam. I quite understand that.” She was staring at the bottle and her rage got the better of her.

  “And you wanted to see what was in my private cupboard, so you…”

  “Not at all,” said Kitty with dignity.

  “I did not know this was your cupboard. The children showed me …”

  The children stood awestruck, aware that this was a battle between two powerful grownups.

  “My own possessions are private. Madam; I will thank you not to pry into them.” Kitty’s temper flared up.

  “You are insolent,” she said, ‘and I will not tolerate that. You shall go at once!” Jennifer retorted: “Perhaps you will speak to the squire about that… I myself will speak to him.”

  Kitty was really angry now. She had not sought this opportunity, but now that it had come she would take it.

  “You may pack and go at once.” she said.

  “I shall myself tell the squire that I have dismissed you.” How insolently the woman stared. Knowledgeably? What did she mean…? Could she know…?

  Kitty began to feel very frightened. She was dizzy with fear; the room swayed; she clutched at the bureau. One of the children began to cry. Kitty saw Jennifer’s face close to hers, and Jennifer was smiling; her cunning black eyes were like monkeys’ eyes. Jennifer’s arms were strong about.

  When Kitty opened her eyes, she was lying on the sofa and Jennifer was kneeling beside her, holding hartshorn under her nose. The children were not there.

  Jennifer said: “Madam should be more careful … her condition… I had not thought that it would be possible for Madam to be so far gone in pregnancy! The greatest care must be taken Kitty managed to get to her feet.

  “I am all right now.”

  “Oh, yes, Madam, you are all right now. It was just a little faint … so natural really. But Madam must take care…”

  That will do,” said Kitty.

  “And do not forget you are to pack your bags and go at once!”

  Jennifer’s eyes were downcast, but her mouth mocked. Kitty went unsteadily to the door. In her bedroom she bathed her face; her hands were hot and clammy, for she knew now that the moment had come. She prayed silently to her mother: “Mother, what shall I do now? What can I do now?”

  She thought of the new tenderness which had sprung up in the squire. Words came into her mind.

  “We loved each other; we were going to marry. It seemed so safe, so right. He was always so careful of me, so eager that I should not suffer any hardship. Do not be cruel to me now. If you will only help me I will try to love you.”

  It seemed to her that she stayed in her room for hours … waiting.

  She heard his horse’s hoofs in the courtyard. It was some time before he came into the room, and she knew, as soon as she saw him, that Jennifer had waylaid him, had spoken to him. His big eyes bulged and there was a knotted vein on his forehead. Fearful as she was, it occurred to her that he was both like a dog that had received a whipping and an enraged bull.

  His eyes searched her face, and his hands moved as though they would tear her secret from her.

  There was no need; she would tell him now.

  He stood before her, and she was aware of his hands again; now they were hanging limply at his sides.

  He said: “What’s this I am hearing? What’s this that girl is saying? By God…”

  And he wanted her to deny it, and he wanted to send Jennifer from his house; he wanted her to lie to him… anything so that he need not believe these suggestions of Jennifer’s. He could still hear her voice, soft and insinuating: “I think I should tell you… Madam fainted clean away in the nursery this afternoon. She must take greater care of herself. I feel and I am no fool in these matters that she is farther advanced in pregnancy than it seems possible to believe …” The fury that had surged up in him! He had gripped the girl’s shoulder and glared down into her impudent face.

  “Do not be angry with me. Is it my fault that she should use you so cunningly because her lover has deserted her?” Jennifer’s eyes were full of the light of battle. She had been told by the mistress of the house to pack her bags, and if she did that and went away she would have lost everything she had fought for; but here was a chance of regaining a good deal. She was bold therefore; and she even laughed when he brought up his great hand and hit her on the side of her head so that she fell to the floor.

  And well she might laugh, for he was a fool indeed. He had only to look into Kitty’s eyes to see what a fool, for her guilt was there and she made no attempt to hide it. What was this she was saying?
He could not hear properly because his blood was pounding on his eardrums, but he grasped its import.

  “We loved each other. It was so right… And then the press gang took him from me … We should have been so happy …” He shrieked at her: “I’ll kill you for this!” And he would have killed her if he had not felt so miserably brokenhearted.

  She said: “Please, George … I was wrong … I was wicked. But I will try, if only… There is the little baby to think of…”

  He pushed her from him, and she fell onto the bed and lay there staring up at the terrible line of his mouth and the red tinge in what should have been the whites of his eyes.

  He said: “So that was why you agreed to marry me, Madam!” He laughed and his laughter was horrible to her ears.

  She hated him; and she hated herself for not hating more violently the last weeks during which he had been her lover. She answered with spirit, just as Bess would have answered: “Why else should I have married you!”

  He had his riding-whip in his hand now; he thought of beating the life out of her for what she had done to him. He would take her life, for she and Bess between them had taken all that mattered in his.

  He saw himself as a complacent fool; and later, people would know, and they would whisper together and laugh at him.

  “Poor Squire! Caught proper, he were!” His own people laughing at him! He was going to kill her; he would beat the life out of her.

  He let out a string of epithets, but his voice broke suddenly. He was afraid that he was going to blubber just as though he were a schoolboy; there was nothing to be done but get out quickly.

  He strode from the room.

  Kitty lay there, dazed. The storm had broken: it was passing over her head. She buried her face in her pillow, and began to cry

  ineffectually. Carolan Haredon They were all going to pay a visit to the rectory.

  Charles said: “Jennifer, must we take that silly little Carolan?”

  Carolan made a face at Charles, for it was safe to do so since his back was turned to her. Charles was eleven almost a man; Carolan was only five quite a baby by Charles’s standards; even Margaret thought her very young.