Beyond the Blue Mountains Read online

  Carolan struggled with her sash; Jennifer never helped her to dress; she would come along afterwards and do up a button perhaps; then she would say: “I do declare you are a little slut!” And she would repeat the word slut, as though it gave her pleasure. And Carolan would retreat a pace or two and grimace at Jennifer, for grimaces were her only method of registering defiance, she being so small and ‘they so big. Sometimes Jennifer merely laughed and said: “Go on! Make yourself uglier than you already are!” Sometimes though she would fly into a sudden rage and slap Carolan’s face or beat her with a slipper.

  Margaret and Charles were talking about Everard, who was twelve and wonderful. Everard must be very good, thought Carolan, for one day he was to be a parson like his father. He was taller than Charles, and he had kind eyes; and although he never took much notice of Carolan, he had never called her silly or a baby; he had never pushed her nor pulled her hair nor teased her about being afraid of darkness. Carolan was tormented so much that she felt quite a fondness for people who ignored her. Mamma was the only person whom she could really trust; Margaret next, she supposed, only she never knew when Margaret, even after a show of friendship, would say: “Oh, go away. You are such a baby!” And if there was one thing Carolan hated more than the dark it was being called a baby. Mamma sometimes said: “My baby!” but that was a secret between them and it did not hurt at all; it just meant that Mamma was her mother, and once she, Carolan, had been her mother’s baby. Why, perhaps dignified Mrs. Orland called Everard her baby sometimes. She laughed at the thought.

  “Here!” said Charles.

  “Are you laughing at me?” He caught her arm and dug his nails into her skin; he was rough, Charles was: he could not pass her without pushing her aside; when he touched her it was like a blow. He has the eyes of a pig! she thought.

  “No,” she said with dignity, “I was not laughing at you.” That’s lucky for you!” He put his face close to hers.

  “Do you know what I would do to you if you had been laughing at me?”

  “No,” she said, and she was filled with a morbid desire to know what he would do.

  “I would beat you till the blood ran.” said Charles.

  “Then I would cut you into little pieces and tie you in a parcel and send you to our stepmamma.”

  Silly! thought Carolan. As if he could! Now, if he had said he would creep into her room at night and pretend he was a ghost, he would really have frightened her.

  “They would hang you on a gibbet if you did!” she said. He pulled at her sash, which she had tied at great pains, and it fell to the floor. Jennifer came over.

  “Good gracious me!” said Jennifer.

  “What are you doing with your sash? A nice state you will be in, Miss! And talking of gibbets at your age!” Jennifer slapped Carolan’s face, not roughly, just insultingly.

  “Come here… baby!”

  Charles retreated, grinning, satisfied that he had left his victim in the hands of a more subtle torturer.

  “Stand still! Or I swear I’ll put you to bed and call the squire up to whip you.”

  That started a train of thought in Carolan’s mind. Why did Jennifer always say “Your papa’ to Charles and Margaret, and The squire’ to her? It was something to do with that mystery she had never been able to solve. She could never resist trying to find out.

  Jennifer why is Charles my stepbrother and Margaret my stepsister?”

  Jennifer was never angry at such questions; Carolan was yet to learn that she provoked them.

  “Stepbrothers and sisters have not the same papa or mamma.”

  Carolan stood on one leg and considered this.

  “My mamma is not their mamma!” she said, pointing at Charles and then at Margaret, who at that moment came into the room.

  “Silly!” said Margaret.

  “You know your mamma is not our mamma!”

  “But is papa my papa then?” Carolan’s wide green eyes looked eagerly at Jennifer.

  “Do I have to tell you again to stand still, Miss Impudent? I shall tell the squire I really cannot cope with all your impertinence. They shall go away.”

  Carolan looked hopeful, and Jennifer put her face close to Carolan’s and said: “And you will have a new nurse who will not let you share Margaret’s room, but put you in a dark room all by yourself.”

  Carolan was silent with horror. She had never known anyone who could convey so much as Jennifer could in a few seemingly commonplace words.

  Margaret said: “Oh, Carolan’s a silly baby; she is scared of the dark!”

  Margaret did not mean to be unkind like the others did; she was merely stating a fact.

  “She is afraid of ghosts and hobgoblins,” chanted Charles.

  Jennifer, pretending to take Carolan’s part, said: “Well, in a house like this where so many people have died there is bound to be a ghost or two.”

  “Are there ghosts at the rectory?” asked Margaret.

  “I shall ask Everard. Everard would know.”

  The door opened then and Mamma came in; her eyes went straight to Carolan, just as though the others were not there. Carolan ran to her and flung her arms round her neck.

  “Carolan… Miss.” cried Jennifer in reproach. But Jennifer could say what she liked now. Mamma was soft and warm and smelt sweetly.

  “So you are going to see Everard, darling?”

  “Yes, Mamma. How nice you smell. You come too.”

  “No, I cannot do that, but you shall tell me all about it when you come back.”

  Carolan kept her arms round her mother’s neck, and laughed with pleasure. Over her daughter’s brown head with reddish tints in it, Kitty looked fearfully at Jennifer Jay.

  Is she unkind to Carolan? wondered Kitty. It was not easy to know. Of course there had to be certain corporal punishment for all children, and especially for a high-spirited child such as Carolan who could at times be very naughty. But was she really unkind?

  “Come, Miss!” said Jennifer.

  “The carriage will be here at any moment.”

  “Yes, Carolan, you must go.”

  How I wish, thought Kitty, that I could get rid of that woman! She knew now that she ought to have got rid of her years ago, before Carolan was born before George had known that Carolan was going to be born. It would have been easy then. But now Jennifer was back in the position she had occupied when Amelia was alive; it amused George to give Jennifer a certain influence in this house. It was a way of humiliating Kitty as she. to the knowledge of the whole neighbourhood, had humiliated him.

  When she was in the nursery Kitty was full of love for little Carolan. Such a lovely creature with her brown hair that glinted quite red in the sunshine, and whose wide green eyes were alert with interest in everything that went on around her. She had a heart-shaped face and a sweet mouth that was going to be rather like Kitty’s own; she had charm and appeal which Charles and Margaret, good-looking as they were, lacked. The years had left a certain mark on Kitty. She was modishly dressed almost showily; indeed there were those in the county and among them her Aunt Harriet who thought her fast, flamboyant a characteristic which displayed itself in her clothes. But the squire liked to see her thus, so there was a handsome enough dress allowance. She had a French maid, Therese, and a little black boy, Sambo, whom she petted. She spent a good deal of time before her mirror, while Therese tried new hair styles and discussed clothes. Once George, coming into her room suddenly and seeing her before her mirror with Therese combing her hair and the black boy sitting at her feet eating sweetmeats, had said: “You were born a harlot, Kitty.” and he dismissed Therese and the boy and made love to her there and then. She was so angry that she fought him, and he seemed to like that; but now she was indifferent to his humiliations. He did things like that, getting great satisfaction from them. Openly he lived with Jennifer. He was the same squire who had always been chasing the prettiest village girls, for he had lost his dreams of becoming the perfect squire, and when he remembered them h
e blamed Kitty and tried to hurt her. She was impregnable. At first she had had Carolan, and Carolan had been all-sufficing; how she had loved the little girl with the dainty hands and feet and the wide wondering eyes! She had bathed her and powdered her, and lived for her. But motherhood could only be a secondary emotion with Kitty, and there were lovers. First there was the young son of a neighbouring squire, who had reminded her of Darrell because he was so gentle and grateful. Later there were others. Therese was an adept at intrigue; she made the deception of the squire an adventure which was always on the point of being discovered, but never was. So Kitty loved Carolan when she was in the nursery, but when she was not there she forgot her for hours at a time.

  Carolan did not know this. She adored her mother; she thought that she longed as deeply as Carolan for them to be together always, to go away somewhere, right away from Haredon, where they would live alone and never see Charles and Jennifer and the squire; though sometimes Margaret should come to see them and bring some of the servants those whom Carolan liked best.

  Carolan usually lost herself in this dream when she and her mother were together, even in the nursery with others around them. Perhaps, she thought now, Charles and Jennifer should come and she would say all the things she had wanted so many times to say to them; she would tell Jennifer that she was ugly, and Charles that he was silly. And they would not be able to do anything about it, because the cottage in which she lived with her mother would be a magic place and she only had to snap her fingers and two great dogs, breathing fire, would spring from nowhere and drive Jennifer and Charles away. Such a lovely cottage it was, with fruit trees all round it; and in the cottage it was always daytime. Only on very rare occasions should the squire come there, because she was frightened of the squire in much the same way as she was frightened of the dark. This fear was inexplicable, because she did not always want to run away from it. It called her to it, even as it terrified her. She always thought of George Haredon as the squire, because both her mother and Jennifer referred to him by that name when they spoke of bun to her. He was a colossus of a man; he wore the biggest riding-boots in the world, and his hands were not like human hands; they were covered in black hair like the hair he had on his face. And his black eyes had a lot of red in them which she could not stop looking at. Sometimes he would lift her on to his knee and caress her as though he loved her; he would stroke her hair. He had a hoarse voice; often he said: “By God, Carrie, you’re going to be such another as your mother.” His face would look very ugly when he said that, and he would put it so near hers that she could see each thick black hair of his eyebrows, and the red in his eyes formed itself into shapes like rivers on a map. Then he would say: “And if you are, girl, I’ll break every bone in your body before I’ve finished with you!” which sounded very frightening coming from him, but was not meant to be perhaps, because he laughed when he said it. And sometimes he would kiss her in the hollow of her neck which Jennifer said was like a salt cellar, she being so thin and ugly, and sometimes he would put his great mouth on her eye so that she had to shut it quickly. A terrifying person, the squire. She hated the smell of him. Once she had wrinkled her nose, and he had said: “What does that mean?” And she had answered: “You have a horrid smell.” And because she thought that might be very rude, she added: “The Squire!” She had called him that once or twice, as though it were his name, and it had amused him. But it did not amuse him then; he put her from him in a tantrum and strode away, and she hid herself thinking that if he found her he really would break every bone in her body. And next time he picked her up and set her on his knee, she made a great effort not to show that she did not like his smell. But for all this he fascinated her, and sometimes she would deliberately get in his way just to see whether he would be angry with her or caress her; and either was equally terrifying to her. Aunt Harriet should come to see them at the cottage too, and she, Carolan, would call up the dogs that breathed fire, very quickly if Aunt Harriet was unpleasant, for Aunt Harriet could be very unpleasant. She had hard hands that hurt when she slapped, but Carolan did not mind that so much; it was Aunt Harriet’s cold eyes and grim mouth that Carolan hated. They seemed to be holding a secret a horrible secret about Carolan.

  But the dream of the cottage and its visitors and fire-breathing dogs was over, for Kitty was gently disengaging her hands and Jennifer was gripping her shoulder.

  “It is time the children went now, Ma’am.” Jennifer released Carolan, and going over to the mirror put on her bonnet.

  Kitty thought how desolate Carolan looked, standing there. So much smaller than the others … And was Jennifer kind? Margaret took Carolan’s hand and pulled her to the door. It was pleasant to think of the older girl’s keeping an eye on little Carolan, and Kitty had always liked Margaret. Now Carolan was looking over her shoulder at her mother, and her face puckered a little; she looked such a baby, scarcely her five years now, though one was apt to think her older at times; she was such an old-fashioned little thing. Kitty wondered whether she would give up her afternoon to the child, keep her with her. But no! She had an engagement. Besides, children were moody; you were apt to think them unhappy when they were just a little peevish. And, in any case, all the children had been invited to the rectory; it would seem rude if one of them stayed behind. So Kitty eased her conscience; if Jennifer was unkind to her, surely Carolan would say so. She watched Their getting into the carriage, and told herself how good it was to know that Carolan was being brought up with other children. Jennifer would not be different from what she was to the others; she would not dare.

  The carriage rattled over the stony roads. Carolan began to bounce up and down on the seat for the sheer joy of riding along country roads in a carriage. Jennifer slapped her.

  “Still. Miss.”

  She was going to be the image of her mother, thought Jennifer; not so beautiful perhaps she would be darker for one thing and her eyes were green but those thick red-tinted lashes and that provocative tilt of the head, She had… what her mother had, and if one could believe the stories one heard, what her grandmother and great-grandmother had had too. Jennifer wanted to beat that small wriggling body, but what was the good. There would be trouble if she went too far in that direction; the artful little imp already had some sort of influence with the squire; Jennifer believed he was more interested in Carolan than in his own children. Sometimes he could not keep his mouth from smiling when he spoke of her. What witchery was this she had inherited, when at five years old she, the very sight of whom should have enraged the squire, could command a special indulgence?

  “Now you must all be very good at the rectory,” said Jennifer.

  “You must not let your crumbs fall upon the floor. And when Mr. or Mrs. Orland speaks to you, you must answer up promptly and very respectfully. And if Everard should take you into the graveyard, you must be very quiet.” She gripped Carolan’s arm, for the child who had been staring out of the window before she had mentioned the graveyard, was now sitting up tense in her seat.

  “Don’t go prying around too much in the graveyard.”

  Margaret, who was very matter-of-fact and without much imagination, said: “Why mustn’t you pry round the graveyard? I can’t see that it matters; everybody there is dead.”

  “Hush!” said Jennifer, and looked at Carolan.

  “The vaults are interesting,” said Charles.

  “Full of dead people!”

  They put the coffins on shelves,” added Margaret.

  “So that one family can keep together,” said Jennifer.

  “I’ve heard stories about what happens in the graveyard at night; it would make your flesh creep to hear them!”

  “They are like little houses,” said Charles.

  “Houses where the dead lie,” said Jennifer.

  “Now, Carolan. there is no need to look so frightened, Miss. Nobody is going to put you there. But mind you don’t go prowling round where you should not go, and get shut in with the dead. A nice thing
that would be!”

  Carolan was white to the lips at the thought of it.

  “Baby!” said Margaret contemptuously.

  Carolan shut her eyes and tried to tell herself that she was not in the carriage at all, but in the cottage with Mamma.

  “Sparks!” she murmured to herself.

  “Rover!” For those were the names of the dogs which breathed fire.

  The carriage had drawn up outside the rectory gates, and Mrs. Orland and Everard came out to greet them. Mrs. Orland was very gracious. She was sure, she said, that Jennifer would like a chat with her friend, Mrs. Privett. Mrs. Privett was the housekeeper at the rectory, and Jennifer hated her. This was one of the humiliations which made her so angry. She might have been riding in her own carriage to pay a call, had her plans not gone wrong; now she was here in The role of governess, and Mrs. Orland’s drawing-room was closed to her; she must go to the housekeeper’s room and chat with that stupid Mrs. Privett whose talk was all of apple jelly and inferior servants.

  “Well,” said Mrs. Orland, ‘and how is little Carolan?” Carolan was quite the most charming of the Haredon children, even though she had made such a distressing entry into the world. Mrs. Orland was afraid she was a little too broad-minded, but one could not help liking the child.

  Carolan put her hand in Mrs. Orland’s and they went into the drawing-room.

  Everard looked very handsome today, and bigger than Carolan had been thinking him. He sat down, and his feet looked just like a man’s feet; Carolan’s did not reach the floor, and she longed for her legs to grow so that they would. Margaret sat staring at Everard; she was always like that in Everard’s company; she doted on him, and he did not like it very much. Margaret knew it, but she could not help staring at him. Carolan stared a little at him too, but there were other things to stare at in Mrs. Orland’s drawing-room, because it was such a wonderful place, and Mamma’s mamma had lived here once, when she was Carolan’s age, which made it a very exciting place to be in.

  Mrs. Orland talked to them very brightly while they ate seedcake and drank their milk. She talked of lessons, but that was not to Carolan who was too young to know much about them, but to Charles chiefly, occasionally bringing in Margaret. Carolan did not mind being ignored; she was quite happy; she loved seedcake and the milk was delicious, and on a stand near her chair was a fascinating ornament which represented a woodland scene; it was set on a wooden stand, and there was a glass shade over it. It was wonderful. There was green moss and some trees, and on one of the branches a real stuffed bird. When she pressed her face close to the grass she could imagine she was standing under the trees, and that her cottage was not far away, and that her dogs would come leaping out at her from behind those trees. Mrs. Orland was saying: “Would you like me to take off the glass shade?”