Читать книгу Cursed by a Fortune - Fenn George Manville - Страница 7

“Why, there then, my precious, you are ever so much better. You look quite bright this morning.”

“Do I, ’Liza?” said Kate sadly, as she walked to her bedroom window and stood gazing out at the sodden park and dripping trees.

“Ever so much, my dear. Mr Leigh has done you a deal of good. I do wonder at finding such a clever gentlemanly Doctor down in an out-of-the-way place like this. You like him, don’t you?”

The girl turned slowly and gazed at the speaker, her brow contracting a little at the inner corners of her straight eyebrows, which were drawn up, giving her face a troubled expression.

“I hardly thing I do, nurse, dear; he is so stern and firm with me. He seems to talk to me as if it were all my fault that I have been so weak and ill; and he does not know – he does not know.”

The tears rose to her eyes, ready to brim over as she spoke.

“Ah! naughty little girl!” cried the woman, with mock anger; “crying again! I will not have it. Oh! my own pet,” she continued, changing her manner, as she passed her arm lovingly about the light waist and tenderly kissed her charge. “Please, please try. You are so much better. You must hold up.”

“Yes, yes, nurse, I will,” cried the girl, making an effort, and kissing the homely face lovingly.

“And what did I tell you? I’m always spoken of as your maid now – lady’s maid. It must not be nurse any longer.”

“Ah!” said Kate, with the wistful look coming in her eyes again; “it seems as if all the happy old things are to be no more.”

“No, no, my dear; you must not talk so. You not twenty, and giving up so to sadness! You must try and forget.”

“Forget!” cried the girl, reproachfully.

“No, no, not quite forget, dear; but try and bear your troubles like a woman now. Who could forget dear old master, and your poor dear mother? But would they like you to fret yourself into the grave with sorrow? Would they not say if they could come to you some night, ‘Never forget us, darling; but try and bear this grief as a true woman should’?”

“Yes,” said the girl, thoughtfully, “and I will. But I don’t feel as if I could be happy here.”

The maid sighed.

“Uncle is very kind, and my aunt is very loving in her way, but I feel as if I want to be alone somewhere – of course with you. I have lain awake at night, longing to be back home.”

“But that is impossible now, darling. Cook wrote to me the other day, and she told me that the house and furniture had been sold, and that the workmen were in, and – oh, what a stupid woman I am. Pretty way to try and comfort you!”

“It’s nothing, ’Liza. It’s all gone now,” said the girl, smiling piteously.

“That’s nice and brave of you; but I am very stupid, my dear. There, there, you will try and be more hopeful, and to think of the future?”

“Yes, I will; but I’m sure I should be better and happier if I went away from here. Couldn’t we have a cottage somewhere – at the seaside, perhaps, and live together?”

“Well, yes, you could, my dear; but it wouldn’t be nice for you, nor yet proper treatment to your uncle and aunt. Come, try and get quite well. So you don’t like Doctor Leigh?”

“No, I think not.”

“Nor yet Miss Jenny?”

“Oh, yes, I like her,” said Kate, with animation. “She is very sweet and girlish. Oh, nurse, dear, I wish I could be as happy, and light-hearted as she is!”

“So you will be soon, my darling. I don’t want to see you quite like her. You are so different; but she is a very nice girl, and by-and-by perhaps you’ll see more of her. You do want more of a companion of your own age. There goes the breakfast bell! What a wet, soaking morning; but it isn’t foggy down here like it used to be in the Square, and the sun shines more; and Miss Kate – ”

“Oh, don’t speak like that, nurse!”

“But I must, my dear. I have to keep my place down here.”

“Well, when we are alone then. What were you going to say?”

“I want you to try and make me happy down here.”

“I? How can I?”

“By letting the sunshine come back into your face. You’ve nearly broken my heart lately, what with seeing you crying and being so ill.”

“I’m going to try, nurse.”

“That’s right. What’s that? Hail?”

At that moment there was a tap at the door.

“Nearly ready to go down, my darling?”

The door opened, and Mrs Wilton appeared.

“May I come in? Ah, quite ready. Come, that’s better, my pretty pet. Why, you look lovely and quite a colour coming into your face. Now, don’t she look nice this morning?”

“Yes, ma’am; I’ve been telling her so.”

“I thought we should bring her round. I am pleased, and you’re a very good girl. Your uncle will be delighted; but come along down, and let’s make the tea, or he’ll be going about like a roaring lion for his food. Oh! bless me, what’s that?”

“That” was a sharp rattling, for the second time, on the window-pane.

“Not hail, surely. Oh, you naughty boy,” she continued, throwing open the casement window. “Claud, my dear, you shouldn’t throw stones at the bedroom windows.”

“Only small shot. Morning. How’s Kate? Tell her the breakfast’s waiting.”

“We’re coming, my dear, and your cousin’s ever so much better. Come here, my dear.”

Kate coloured slightly, as she went to the open window, and Claud stood looking up, grinning.

“How are you? Didn’t you hear the shot I pitched up before?”

“Yes, I thought it was hail,” said Kate, coldly.

“Only number six. But come on down; the guv’nor’s been out these two hours, and gone to change his wet boots.”

“We’re coming, my dear,” cried Mrs Wilton; “and Claud, my dear, I’m sure your feet must be wet. Go in and change your boots at once.”

“Bother. They’re all right.”

“Now don’t be obstinate, my dear; you know how delicate your throat is, and – There, he’s gone. You’ll have to help me to make him more obedient, Kate, my dear. I’ve noticed already how much more attention he pays to what you say. But there, come along.”

James Wilton was already in the breakfast-room, looking at his letters, and scowling over them like the proverbial bear with the sore head.

“Come, Maria,” he growled, “are we never to have any – Ah, my dear, you down to breakfast! This makes up for a wet morning,” and he met and kissed his niece, drew her hand under his arm, and led her to a chair on the side of the table nearest the fire. “That’s your place, my dear, and it has looked very blank for the past fortnight. Very, very glad to see you fill it again. I say,” he continued, chuckling and rubbing his hands, “you’re quite looking yourself again.”

“Yes,” said Mrs Wilton, “but you needn’t keep all the good mornings and kisses for Kitty. Ah, it’s very nice to be young and pretty, but if Uncle’s going to pet you like this I shall grow quite jealous.” This with a good many meaning nods and smiles at her niece, as she took her place at the table behind the hissing urn.

“You’ve been too much petted, Maria. It makes you grow too plump and rosy.”

“James, my dear, you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I should,” said her husband, chuckling. “I know Kitty has noticed it. But is that boy coming in to breakfast?”

“Yes, yes, yes, my dear; but don’t shout so. You quite startle dear Kitty. Recollect, please, that she is an invalid.”

“Bah! Not she. Going to be quite well again directly, and come for rides and drives with me to the farms. Aren’t you, my dear?”

“I shall be very pleased to, Uncle – soon.”

“That’s right. We’ll soon have some roses among the lilies. Ha! ha! You must steal some of your aunt’s. Got too many in her cheeks, hasn’t she, my dear – Damask, but we want maiden blush, eh?”

“Do be quiet, James. You really shouldn’t.”

“Where is Claud? He must have heard the bell.”

“Oh, yes, and he, came and called Kitty. He has only gone to change his wet boots.”

“Wet boots! Why, he wasn’t down till nine. Oh, here you are, sir. Come along.”

“Did you change your boots, Claud?”

“No, mother,” said that gentleman, seating himself opposite Kate.

“But you should, my dear.”

Wilton gave his niece a merry look and a nod, which was intended to mean, “You attend to me.”

“Yes, you should, my dear,” he went on, imitating his wife’s manner; “and why don’t you put on goloshes when you go out?”

Claud stared at his father, and looked as if he thought he was a little touched mentally.

“Isn’t it disgusting, Kitty, my dear?” said Wilton. “She’d wrap him up in a flannel and feed him with a spoon if she had her way with the great strong hulking fellow.”

“Don’t you take any notice of your uncle’s nonsense, my dear. Claud, my love, will you take Kitty’s cup to her?”

“She’d make a regular molly-coddle of him. And we don’t want doctoring here. Had enough of that the past fortnight. I say, you’re going to throw Leigh overboard this morning. Don’t want him any more, do you?”

“Oh, no, I shall be quite well now.”

“Yes,” said her uncle, with a knowing look. “Don’t you have any more of it. And I say, you’ll have to pay his long bill for jalap and pilly coshy. That is if you can afford it.”

“I do wish, my dear, you’d let the dear child have her breakfast in peace; and do sit down and let your cousin be, Claud, dear; I’m sure she will not eat bacon. It’s so fidgeting to have things forced upon you.”

“You eat your egg, ma! Kitty and I understand each ether. She wants feeding up, and I’m going to be the feeder.”

“That’s right, boy; she wants stamina.”

“But she can’t eat everything on the table, James.”

“Who said she could? She isn’t a stout elderly lady.”

The head of the family looked at his niece with a broad smile, as if in search of a laugh for his jest, but the smile that greeted him was very wan and wintry.

“Any letters, my dear?” said Mrs Wilton, as the breakfast went on, with Kate growing weary of her cousin’s attentions, all of which took the form of a hurried movement to her side of the table, and pressure brought to bear over the breakfast delicacies.

The wintry look appeared to be transferred from Kate’s to her uncle’s face, but it was not wan; on the contrary, it was decidedly stormy.

“Yes,” he said, with a grunt.

“Anything particular?”

“Yes, very.”

“What is it, my dear?”

“Don’t both – er – letter from John Garstang.”

“Oh, dear me!” said Mrs Wilton, looking aghast; and her husband kicked out one foot for her special benefit, but as his leg was not eight feet long the shot was a miss.

“Says he’ll run down for a few days to settle that little estate business; and that it will give him an opportunity to have a few chats with Kate here. You say you like Mr Garstang, my dear?”

“Oh, yes,” said Kate, quietly; “he was always very nice and kind to me.”

“Of course, my darling; who would not be?” said Mrs Wilton.

“Claud, boy, I suppose the pheasants are getting scarce.”

“Oh, there are a few left yet,” said the young man.

“You must get up a beat and try and find a few hares, too. Uncle Garstang likes a bit of shooting. Used to see much of John Garstang, my dear, when you were at home?”

“No, uncle, not much. He used to come and dine with us sometimes, and he was always very kind to me from the time I was quite a little girl, but my father and he were never very intimate.”

“A very fine-looking man, my dear, and so handsome,” said Mrs Wilton.

“Yes, very,” said her husband, dryly; “and handsome is as handsome does.”

“Yes, my dear, of course,” said Mrs Wilton; and very little more was said till the end of the breakfast, when the lady of the house asked what time the guest would be down.

“Asks me to send the dog-cart to meet the mid-day train. Humph! rain’s over and sun coming out. Here, Claud, take your cousin round the greenhouse and the conservatory. She hasn’t seen the plants.”

“All right, father. Don’t mind me smoking, do you, Kitty?”

“Of course she’ll say no,” said Wilton testily; “but you can surely do without your pipe for an hour or two.”

“Oh, very well,” said Claud, ungraciously; and he offered his cousin his arm.

She looked surprised at the unnecessary attention, but took it; and they went out through the French window into the broad verandah, the glass door swinging to after them.

“What a sweet pair they’ll make, James, dear,” said Mrs Wilton, smiling fondly after her son. “How nicely she takes to our dear boy!”

“Yes, like the rest of the idiots. Girl always says snap to the first coat and trousers that come near her.”

“Oh, James, dear! you shouldn’t say that I’m sure I didn’t!”

“You! Well, upon my soul! How you can stand there and utter such a fib! But never mind; it’s going to be easy enough, and we’ll get it over as soon as we decently can, if you don’t make some stupid blunder and spoil it.”

“James, dear!”

“Be just like you. But a nice letter I’ve had from John Garstang about that mortgage. Never mind, though; once this is over I can snap my fingers at him. So be as civil as you can; and I suppose we must give him some of the best wine.”

“Yes, dear, and have out the china dinner service.”

“Of course. But I wish you’d put him into a damp bed.”

“Oh, James, dear! I couldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you could; give him rheumatic fever and kill him. But I suppose you won’t.”

“Indeed I will not, dear. There are many wicked things that I feel I could do, but put a Christian man into a damp bed – no!”

“Humph! Well, then, don’t; but I hope that boy will be careful and not scare Kitty.”

“What, Claud? Oh, no, my dear, don’t be afraid of that. My boy is too clever; and, besides, he’s beginning to love the very ground she walks on. Really, it seems to me quite a Heaven-made matter.”

“Always is, my dear, when the lady has over a hundred thousand pounds,” said Wilton, with a grim smile; “but we shall see.”