Читать книгу The Maidens of Walsingham - Анна Морион - Страница 3

– What wrong?

Christine looked indifferently at Catherine, who was staring at her sister and her clay bowl full of porridge with distaste.

– This porridge is disgusting," Christine answered her sister sullenly.

She was lying: it was not the unleavened wheat porridge that was the cause of her thoughtfulness, but thoughts of the handsome landlord who had stared at Christine in the church, and she wondered with rapt attention what his gaze might have meant.

– Disgusted? – Catherine frowned. – Even Cassie eats that porridge, and she doesn't find it disgusting.

– Of course, she does not! Give her slop and she'll eat it," Christine mockingly muttered, annoyed.

– How could you? – Kate asked sharply, angered by the hurtful words about her younger sister. – Apologise now!

– I won't," Christine shrugged. She glanced at Cassie, who was busy scooping porridge with a wooden spoon and not looking at her sisters. – The silly girl hadn't understood a thing.

Catherine's face tensed as she couldn't bear the fact that Christine had been so dismissive of poor Cassandra.

– It wasn't her fault that she had been born unhealthy! God had sent her to us! – she gritted her teeth. – You should be ashamed to say such a thing!

Angry at her older sister's lecture, Christine angrily threw her spoon on the table and left the house. Cassie shuddered at the clatter of the wooden spoon on the table and looked questioningly at Catherine.

– 'It's all right, sweetheart. Christine wanted to go for a walk in the field," Kate reassured her, used to shielding her younger sister from upsetting her.

– Can I go for a walk, too? – Cassie asked, licking the rest of her porridge off her plate.

– I told you it's not nice to do that! – Kate said sternly when she saw her sister's behaviour.

Cassie immediately stopped what she was doing and put her plate on the table.

– Katie, can I go for a walk? – The girl asked hopefully again.

– We have to wait for Dad.

– "Oh," Cassie said disappointedly. – When will he be back?

– He'll be here soon. You know what? Let's fix your dress," Catherine said, getting up from the table and clearing away the dirty plates. – But first we'll wash the dishes.

She grabbed the plates, went out into the yard, washed them thoroughly in a barrel of water and returned home. Then Catherine took Cassie's torn dress out of the clothes chest and began to mend it with short, inconspicuous stitches.

– Why is there such a hole here? – Catherine asked her sister.

– Where?" she said indifferently. – I don't know, Katie.

Cassie sat down on her mattress and began to play with a hideous straw doll, which she loved in spite of its ugliness. She had no other toys.

– Honey, try to be more careful, will you? – Kate told her affectionately. – You know you have to keep things safe, right? Will you try?

– Mm-hmm. Can I go for a walk?

– No. Dad's not back yet.

Cassie glanced sadly at Catherine, tossed the doll into a corner, and watched as her sister deftly stitched her tattered dress. Seeing the curiosity on her younger sister's face, Kate smiled affectionately and stroked her curly hair.

"Poor Cassie! She doesn't realise that Christine doesn't have an ounce of sisterly love for her! But it must be so: the Lord is purposely protecting her sick mind from hurt and regret," thought Catherine sadly.

***

Christine, feeling resentful at Catherine's reproach, hastened to get away from home; she sat down under a large, budding oak tree, wrapped herself in her threadbare woollen shawl, and tearfully reflected on her poverty. Walsingham, which two centuries ago had been a large, flourishing and wealthy village, but which had gradually turned into a dying tiny hamlet, bound this vain beauty. Christine felt trapped in the dark stone house of the Glowfords: the clay floor, the cold walls, the cracked frames of the only window – all this pressed on the girl, deprived of joy and peace. At the same time, her life was poisoned by her younger sister: Christine disliked Cassie because she required delicate care, like a rare flower, and was filled with envy that her father loved Cassie more than she did. And Cassie was so beautiful that Christine's heart oozed with the poisonous bile of envy of her sick sister's beauty. The girl was desperate, and her deepest dream was to escape from the dying Walsingham ruins. However, she lacked the courage to dare to take such a bold step.

"'What should I do? I'm withering away here like a plant deprived of water! What of value is there in my life? Beauty? Only I was noticed by the landlord in the church… He looked at me with such admiring eyes! He's so handsome! But how could he be interested in a poor girl? Only in fairy tales! – Christine thought bitterly, and the tears of despair and hopelessness ran down her cheeks again. – Will I ever get out of this dark corner? When will I finally live in my own beautiful home, eating sweets and wearing fancy dresses?"

When darkness fell, Christine returned to the hovel she hated, where a hot supper and her older sister's silent disapproval awaited her. Christine had no appetite, for once again the meal was a bland porridge, which she had long since had enough of. Christine took off her shoes and her casual work dress and left her in a rough undershirt. She lay down on her bunk, facing the wall, and deliberately hid her head under the blanket, ignoring her sisters and father.

– Are you not ill? – Pastor Christine asked puzzled, noticing her daughter's gloomy mood. – Vespers is coming soon, and you need your strength. Eat, my daughter.

– I'm not hungry," she replied briefly, not wanting to talk.

– Then you will not be able to eat the porridge until tomorrow morning. If you don't share the evening meal with us, you'll be hungry – Pastor was concerned about his middle daughter's behaviour: Catherine had informed him earlier that Christine had left home again.

– I don't want any porridge, Dad. I'm not feeling well," Christine lied indifferently. She did not want to go to vespers: her father's sermons on the nobility of poverty had satiated her oppressed soul. She was melancholy and hopeless and longed to be alone.

– No time! You can't miss vespers! – Kate persisted, displeased at her sister's obstinacy.

– I won't go," said Christine quietly but firmly.

– But did St Christ stop preaching when he was afflicted? – said the pastor in an instructive tone.

– Leave her alone, Dad. God sees her heart and knows what is going on in it," said Catherine to her father: she had guessed her sister's plan to avoid vespers, but she kept silent, thinking it would do Christine good to be alone and think over her "wicked" behaviour. – Just please, Chris, wash the plates. I don't have time.

Christine's response was an exasperated sigh.

A quarter of an hour later, the pastor, Catherine and Cassie put on their best dresses and hurried into the church.

Christine wiped her poor bed with tears for a long time, but when she had calmed down, she took the clay plates and, going out into the yard, began to scrub them with a pig bristle brush. Suddenly, once again, Christine felt a rush of regret for her fading life, but she could not contain her anger and grabbed one of the plates and threw it to the ground, breaking it into several large pieces. Christine returned to the house, put the clean plates on the shelf, lay down on her mattress again, and wept bitterly. When the Glowfords returned from vespers, the girl was already asleep, weary with worries and black thoughts, but Catherine woke her to listen to the passage of Scripture that Pastor Glowford read every evening.

– There's one plate missing," Catherine said, glancing at the shelf.

– It fell out of my hands and broke," Christine told her sullenly.

Kate sat down beside her on the muff, and Cassie, full of joy at her homecoming, sat down beside her, and the family began to listen to the lines of Scripture that Pastor Glowford read with feeling. The pastor's voice was hushed, then filled with power, then with gentleness, then with dire warnings of the futility of existence and the terrible consequences of sin. After reading another passage, the pastor put the book aside. The family held hands and prayed, but the hearts of two of the four were indifferent to prayer: Christine's heart was wounded by dark thoughts and feelings, and Cassie's heart was not at all attentive to prayer, and the girl was more occupied with thoughts of the morrow, for she and the local boys had conspired to rob the apple-tree of a grumpy old neighbour. As she prayed, Cassie watched with delight as a spider crawled up the wall and disappeared into one of the crevices.

– Tomorrow, after morning, I will go to see our new landlord," the parson said after the prayer was over.

– To the Count of Draymore? – Christine exclaimed, stunned by the news. – Why?

– To have a conversation with him about our church. I approached him after the service today, but he was in a hurry, but he invited me to an audience at his estate.

– But is it not in his power to come himself? – Christine hoped to see the lord again, and vaguely felt the need to make him admire her beauty even more.

– The Count of Draymore is a highborn person. I think we shall never again have the honour of seeing him at Walsingham," the parson answered her with a slight chuckle.

Christine's heart sank: she was suddenly seized with an irresistible desire to see the Count, but her father's words disappointed her.

– I hope that during my audience you will not indulge in laziness, but will tidy up the church, – the pastor announced to his daughters.

– When will you be back? Will you be back in time for dinner? – worried Catherine: she jealously watched that her father did not starve.

– I think so. And now we must rest from the day's labours.

The family lay down on their miserable beds.

Cassie was always the first to fall asleep, but this evening she was full of energy and desperate to do something naughty.

– Katie, shall we sing a song? – came a little voice in the darkness.

– It's late, darling, we need to sleep," Catherine answered her.

– But I can't sleep. Let's sing a song!

– Oh, God, Kate, calm her down! – came Christine's disgruntled voice.

– Chris, you should be more restrained," her father told her sternly. – Cassie, we'll sing, but tomorrow.

– But I want it now! It's a funny little song about chickens.

– Will you keep your mouth shut?

Christine's loud shout frightened poor Cassie, and she stopped talking and breathed deeply in fear.

– God will punish you for this! – Kate shouted at Christine, knowing what Cassie's heavy breathing meant. – You scared her! Cassie, come here.

Cassie quickly moved over to Kate's mattress and put her arms around her sister's neck. She couldn't get over her fright, and she couldn't understand why she had made Christine so angry, because all she wanted to do was sing a song about chickens.

She covered her ears with her hands and tried not to hear Cassie's sighs, which only annoyed her.

In the morning Cassie felt sick: her forehead was burning, and her skin was hot and moist. The girl did not go to matins. Cassie tossed and turned on her mattress for a long time, but still managed to fall asleep. When the Glowfords' neighbours heard that Cassie was unwell, they promised to bring some milk for her.

After the morning mass, Pastor Glowford went to the Count of Draymore's estate, Rivershold, which he had never been to during his stay in Walsingham, for the old landlord never took any interest in the fate of his peasants. The pastor walked: he was fond of walking, and at such times felt full of vigour. He had no horse, and he did not want to disturb the parishioners with his problems, and there was only one horse in the village. So, dressed in his best suit, long since worn and patched by Catherine's hands, Pastor Glowford walked along the dusty road to Rivershold. On the way, he prayed that God would listen to the prayers of his parishioners, turn Lord Draymore's heart to them, and meet their needs. He carried with him a large, yellowed paperweight with an old drawing of the church, wishing to show it to the Earl, with a view to its possible restoration. Strangely enough, the pastor believed the new landlord and thought that the Lord himself had brought him to Walsingham. But suddenly the pastor remembered Cassie's illness and became worried: how was his treasure feeling? But the knowledge that Catherine was looking after her reassured him: his face brightened, and with renewed strength and hope in his heart he made his way to the manor.