Читать книгу The Alington Inheritance - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 7

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Jenny walked slowly up the drive. It was done. It was finished. It was all over. She was starting a new life. There wasn’t any letter which would change everything for her. Poor darling Garsty had just imagined it. It was silly of her not to have thought of that for herself. And there were Miss Garstone’s eyes too.... But she was glad about one thing. No, there were two things to be glad about. Miss Garstone had let her look for the letter her own self, and just at the end she had been quite astonishingly nice. “Quite human,” said Jenny to herself, and with that she came round the last corner of the drive and caught her breath. Because there at the front door stood Mac’s little red car, and that meant that Mac was there, and perhaps Alan, too. In the back of her mind was the thought, “They wouldn’t have come down in time for the funeral. It wasn’t so very clever to come down the same day.” Because the funeral had only been that morning, and it would have been better to let a day or two go by.

There was anger in her as she had that thought. Didn’t he care what people would think? And the answer was plain enough. It was no, he didn’t, he didn’t care a jot. What he wanted to do he did. What the village thought about him didn’t matter at all. He could get away with it.

As she came across the hall, Meg darted at her and caught her wrist.

“Ssh—they’ve come! Did you see the car? Mac and Alan—they’ve both come! I do think they might have got here in time for the funeral—don’t you? I said so to Alan, and he pinched my arm and said, ‘Ssh!’ I expect I’ve got a black and blue pinch mark on it, and if I have——” She paused dramatically.

Jenny could not help laughing a little.

“What will you do?”

Meg hopped on one leg.

“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. When I’m in bed and there’s nothing to disturb me. Oh, what have you got there? What is it—may I see? Oh, it’s a little chest of drawers!”

Jenny nodded.

“Yes, it was Garsty’s. Her sister gave it to me. It—it was very nice of her.”

“Well, she’s got everything else,” said Meg in a tone which dismissed Miss Garstone with finality.

They were half way up the stairs, when Mac came down them. As always when she saw him again, he made the same deep impression on Jenny. He was so terribly good-looking. He took after his mother, but where she wore her good looks with an air of being disillusioned, in him everything was heightened by a most visible air of enjoyment. And why wouldn’t he enjoy his life? He had looks, and health, and youth, and an adoring mother. And he had Alington.

He came down two steps at a time with both his hands out.

“My poor little Jenny!” he said in his warm voice. “I was just coming down to dig you out of the Garstone woman’s clutches. I hear she’s a terror.”

It was the old trick. When she was with him she forgot everything she had been thinking about him. He had only to smile, to say two words in his sympathetic voice, and she stopped thinking. And that wasn’t right. That was just glamour. Like the fairy stories. Life wasn’t a fairy story, it was real—not fairy gold which had turned into withered leaves when you took it out and looked at it next day. And these thoughts were together in Jenny’s mind. They made a strange confusion there. And then, before she knew what she was going to say, she spoke. She heard herself speaking.

“Why didn’t you come down in time for the funeral?”

She saw the flash in his eyes which meant that she had made him angry. He stood there a couple of steps above her and looked down at her. There was an antagonism between them. For the moment it was stronger than the attraction which had always been there and was sometimes very strong.

He gave a little laugh.

“My dear Jenny! Not really in my line, you know—not funerals! But I’ll come and dance at your wedding if you ask me.”

“I shan’t ask you,” said Jenny. The confusion in her had melted into a steady flame of rage. She looked up at him with a burning look, and then passed him by and was gone.

Mac was rather taken aback. Jenny had always been easy. Too easy really for his taste. This change lent interest to her. So he wasn’t going to have it all his own way? Well, so much the better.

Jenny went on to the top of the stairs, where Meg was waiting for her.

“Were you quarrelling?” she asked. “You sounded as if you were.”

Jenny laughed. It was an angry little laugh. She felt angry. She looked angry. She also looked astonishingly pretty, but she didn’t know that. She tidied her hair, washed her hands, and put the little chest of drawers down on the middle of her big one where she could see it from her bed. Meg was very much interested.

“Oh, what a darling little chest of drawers! Is it yours? May I look at it? Is there anything in it?”

“There are the things I made for Garsty for her birthday and for Christmas when I was a little girl. I’ll show you sometime. Not now.”

“It’s a baby chest of drawers! It’s got a bow front, and it’s got darling little ivory handles too! Oh, I do love it! Don’t you?”

Jenny said, “Yes.” It was just the one word, but there was something in it that stopped Meg’s chatter.

They took hands and went down to the schoolroom, where Joyce was curled up in the sofa corner with a picture book and Alan sat strumming at the piano. He wasn’t as tall as his brother, and he certainly wasn’t as good-looking. He was, in point of fact, very much like his father. Jenny was struck with the resemblance as he swung round to meet her.

He said, “Jenny——” in a moved tone, and then, “I was so s-sorry—I really was.”

She said, “Thank you,” in a little voice. There was a warm feeling at her heart—there always was for Alan.

And then Meg broke in with “She’s got the darlingest little chest of drawers from Garsty! She brought it home with her just now! It’s all round in front, and it’s got the dearest little ivory handles on it!”

Joyce scrambled down off the sofa.

“I want to see it! I want to look! Where is it?”

“It’s in her room on the chest of drawers!” Meg called back to Jenny, “I won’t let her touch it till you say we may,” and was gone.

“I’m so s-sorry, Jenny,” said Alan. He only stammered when he was upset, so she knew that he really meant it.

Jenny said, “I know. But it’s no good talking about it, Alan—it’s happened.” And then the door opened and Carter came in with the tea.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Alan?” she said, putting down the tray.

“I’m going to have tea with the children.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You will have tea in the drawing-room with Mrs. Forbes and Mr. Mac. This is schoolroom tea this is, and not for grown-up young gentlemen like you are now and have been these four years past. Get along with you, for I heard the mistress calling you, and she won’t be a bit pleased if she finds you here!” She turned to Jenny. “Will that be all, miss?”

“Yes,” said Jenny. “Thank you very much, Carter.”

Carter turned and went out of the room. Alan took a couple of steps towards the door, and came back again.

“I’d better go if they’re expecting me,” he said, and paused, hesitating. And went.

Jenny turned round to the table and sat down.