Читать книгу The Honourable Jim - Baroness Orczy - Страница 10

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Half an hour later the bridegroom discovered his little bride sitting at her favourite spot, the slanting trunk of the old willow tree that overhung the ornamental lake at the far end of the terraced gardens—the scene of this morning’s adventure.

Urged thereunto by sarcastic speeches from his two brothers and finally commanded by his father and father-in-law to bestir himself, he had—apparently with reluctance—left the festive board and gone out of the room in search of his truant wife.

Babs saw him first as he stood for a moment at the top of the first terrace steps with his legs set wide apart and his hands buried in the pockets of his satin breeches. The whole length of the terraced garden lay between her and this boy whom she had begun to look on as an enemy. She had been very wrathful with him this morning when he was so unkind to Dina and so rough and rude to her—but ever since, after the religious ceremony, people had playfully spoken of him as her lord and master, she felt that she positively hated him. Now all that she wanted was to get away from him; so she gathered up her unwieldy skirt in her small hand and scrambled to her feet. For the space of two seconds she stood quite still, defying him in her mind, frowning at his approaching figure. For he had seen her now and came fast enough down the terrace steps, shouting to her as he came along.

Whereupon Babs started to run. She ran alongside the edge of the lake as fast as she could in her high-heeled shoes. She got hotter and more breathless; that horrid corselet nearly choked her, and once she got entangled in the folds of her gown and came down on her hands and knees on the soft muddy ground. She had had a good start at the beginning, but of course Jim had very long legs; though he did not run—Jim was always lazy—he seemed to cover a terrific deal of ground with those great limbs of his, and though he too had been decked out in wedding clothes, they did not hamper his movements as her own horrible hoops and skirts. And now he was fast gaining on her. Already he was shouting to her to stop. She was sure there was a note of command in his voice. He was already trying his ’prentice hand in the rôle of lord and master, expecting no doubt that she would obey him as she had sworn to do.

Babs came to a halt; not because she had been commanded to stop, but because she could not run any more. She who was as nimble as a young doe, as swift as a hare, was held in bondage by those abominable clothes. And the very next moment Jim was beside her. He still had his hands in his pockets and did not appear the least out of breath.

A while ago she had been quite sure that she had heard him shouting: “Babs! Babs! Stop!” She even thought that his voice had sounded hoarse and rough as if he were anxious or very cross. But now he stood in front of her quite, quite still, and Babs stood before him, proud and defiant. He looked down at her—strangely, she thought. The glow of the sunset was upon his face; it looked hot and flushed, and the unruly chestnut hair about his head had in it warm, ruddy glints. All traces of the wasp stings had certainly vanished; but his eyes she could not see, the heavy lids veiled them, and once or twice he passed his right hand across his forehead. The left hand he kept resolutely hidden from sight. Babs had often heard people say that James Fiennes would be quite nice looking if he had not such an obstinate self-willed look in his face; she herself had never paid much attention to his looks. But now she thought him positively ugly, for there was a mocking line round his mouth which she did not like.

No doubt that he was cross because she had given him a fright, but he was also laughing at her because she had been beaten in the race. Oh! he was positively odious!

She had come to a standstill because she simply could not run any more—not just for the moment. In a second or two she would start off again, away, away from Jim and from everybody else, even from her adopted father, who pretended to love her, and then just gave her away to this loutish, ill-mannered boy, just as if she were a bale of goods. She held her two hands against her breast, because the hammering of her heart well-nigh choked her.

Then all of a sudden Jim threw his arms round her and grasped her round the body so close, so close that she felt as if the last lingering breath was being pressed out of her, and she had not the strength even to struggle.

“Naughty Babs to run away like that!” he said. His face was quite close to hers, and very red and hot. Babs felt that she had never hated any one as she hated Jim at this moment.

“Kiss me, Babs!” he said, and in such an authoritative tone that the dignity of thirteen year old was outraged beyond hope of compromise. She shook her head vigorously, being still too breathless to speak.

“Kiss me,” he reiterated.

And she gasped out an emphatic “I won’t!”

Had she not sworn but a few hours ago that never, never would she allow Jim Fiennes to kiss her?

Whereupon he pressed his hot face against hers, and she felt a horrible burning sensation against her cheek, her eyes, her mouth.

She would have liked to scream, but was too indignant, too deeply humiliated to utter a sound. Some measure of strength returned to her and she fought and struggled with an energy equal to her pent-up fury. After a moment or two she succeeded in freeing herself, and once more started to run; not far this time, only as far as the very edge of the lake, there where the soft ground was already giving way; and the waters began to lap her feet just above her ankles. In fact she had to hold tightly onto a clump of strong reeds or she would have sunk knee-deep amidst the water-lilies. But even so Jim was already after her, stretching out his big, hot hands to seize her again.

“If you touch me again, James,” she said firmly, “I shall throw myself into the lake.”

All her excitement, her breathlessness had gone. She felt perfectly calm and quite sure of herself. If Jim attempted to kiss her again she would throw herself into the lake, and if he tried to jump in after her she would drag him down with her and hold his head under the water until he drowned. She hated him! Oh! how she hated him!

Already she felt herself sinking deeper into the mud. It was a horrible sensation, for though she knew how to swim, she had always, when she wanted to bathe, gone straight into the clear, deep waters of the mill-stream close by. This feeling of being sucked in by water-reeds and mud was awful and paralysing. But she did not flinch. She would drown before she allowed Jim to kiss her again. The glow of the sunset was no longer in his eyes; it came straight into hers, almost blinding her with its glory; and against the crimson and gold of the sky she saw his head like a dark patch with the unruly hair all about it; and what the expression of his face was at the moment she could not tell. He said nothing, however, and for a while she was conscious of nothing so much as of a great stillness above and around her, with the great crimson orb of the sun slowly sinking behind Meon Hill far away and outlining the myriads of tiny, fluffy, grey clouds in the sky with a blood-red glow.

Then suddenly Jim exclaimed:

“What a little vixen to be sure!” And he threw back his head and laughed; yes! laughed in that odious, sarcastic way of his, whilst she was slowly sinking into a cold and watery grave. He put out his hand to her, but though she knew that she would find it very difficult presently to wade out of the sticky mud, she waved his helping hand indignantly aside.

“Shall I send Tubal to get thee out of the pond?” he said without ceasing to laugh. Oh! was he not the most detestable creature on the face of the earth? Then as she preserved a haughty silence he just shrugged his shoulders, put his hands in the pockets of his breeches, swung round on his heel, and walked deliberately away in the direction of the house, leaving her to struggle out of her uncomfortable position as best she could.

She had stained her dress irretrievably, ruined her shoes and stockings and lost her beautiful lace cap; she had never felt so near crying since she was grown up, or so wretched or so hot or so wobegone. Jim had gone away whistling some silly tune; he was spiteful and she hated him. Fortunately he did not take the trouble to turn round and see how she was getting on, though once when she looked in his direction she thought—but no! she was surely mistaken: she hoped she was mistaken because, child though she was, she knew that she presented a pitiable spectacle and her feminine vanity urged her to go and hide herself somewhere where she could be quite sure no one would see her, or else to seek shelter in the arms of her adoring nurse. A moment or two later Jim had disappeared inside the house, and presently as if by magic Nurse arrived, and with many lamentations and not a few coaxings folded the frankly weeping Babs in her motherly arms, then carried her—consoled now and unresisting—to bed.