The True Darcy Spirit. Elizabeth Aston
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Название: The True Darcy Spirit

Автор: Elizabeth Aston

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

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isbn: 9780007385805

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СКАЧАТЬ to a single life, knowing every day that you have incurred the wholehearted disapproval of every single member of your family, close and distant, and that you are cast off from everything you have known up until now: a home, the affection and concern of those nearest to you, and the life of a young girl of good family and fortune. There are places where you can live on ninety pounds a year, but it would not permit your residence in London, for example.”

      “I shall have to earn my living, I can see, just as you do.”

      He looked affronted. “I hardly think that any duties you may undertake to augment your income are on a par with my profession. Besides, with a tarnished reputation and no references, you will find it very hard to secure employment of any kind. To be brutally frank, the future that awaits you is far more likely to be that you will come upon the town.”

      “You do indeed have a low opinion of my morals if you assume that I would ever become one of those women.”

      “I am a realist. I know what London is, that is all, and what is the fate of most women in your situation. My recommendation to you, should you commit yourself to an independent life, is that you move to a provincial town where you may live quietly and inexpensively.”

      “Could not you give me a reference, so that I might find respectable employment?”

      “Certainly not.”

      “I thought, the very first time I met you, that you had a kindness about you. I remember you picking me up when I fell off my pony, and defending me against my governess’s wrath. I see that I was mistaken.” Cassandra got up.

      “I do not expect you to give me an answer now. I am instructed to allow you a week to—”

      “Come to my senses, is that what my stepfather says? Believe me, Mr. Darcy, I do not need three minutes to make my decision.”

      Horatio hesitated. “Speaking, not as a lawyer, but as your cousin, Cassandra, and as a man who has lived in London long enough to know what a terrifying place it can be to those cast adrift upon it, I beseech you to think most carefully what you are about.”

      “You are worried lest a Miss Darcy be known to have joined the impures, is that it?”

      “Really, I do think…Cassandra, you have no idea what it means to come upon the town!”

      “You may set your mind at rest. I shall not use the name of Darcy from now on. My family casts me off; very well, I do the same to them.”

      Cassandra went slowly down the staircase from Mr. Darcy’s chambers, blinking as she came out of the shadows into the bright sunlight. She felt numb, as though all power of sensation had drained away from her. Her mind, though, was far from numb, and indeed she saw the outside world with an extra clarity; grass, pathways, trees, figures all as though they had been outlined with a sharp pen.

      In that brief half hour within Mr. Darcy’s chambers, her life had changed. A door had shut behind her and she was excluded from every part of her life that she had formerly known. Why should she feel this now, and not think that her old life had ended some other critical moment? Why not when she had left Rosings; now, as she knew, for the last time? Why not when she had arrived in Bath, or left it, with James? Why not when she had reached London, and had spent a night in his arms?

      It was, her mind told her, because, in those chambers, she had made the decision. It was not circumstances or chance or the authority or advice of a parent or a lover—or, indeed, of a lawyer—that had, inside that room, laid down the pattern of her future life. It owed nothing to any other being, only to herself.

      She walked away across the green towards the broad gravel walk that ran alongside the river. On such a fine day, there were several people promenading up and down beside the river; it was a favourite spot for Londoners, the clerk had grudgingly informed her. She watched a middle-aged couple strolling along, the man in a brown hat and his wife holding a parasol at an elegant angle to shield her complexion from the sun. A pair of young women walked arm in arm, laughing and talking together, the feathers on their hats fluttering in the slight breeze, their muslin skirts playing around their ankles as they walked. One of them was leading a little dog that pranced along on its short legs, excited to be out and snuffing the smells of the river bank.

      Not being a Londoner, and having spent no more than a few hours in her whole life in the capital before she came there with James Eyre, Cassandra had never seen the Thames. James, learning this, and laughing at her for being a mere country girl, had taken her to see the river on their first morning in London, and she had been entranced by the teeming waterway.

      “It is never twice the same,” he told her, and she had seen it dark under grey skies with him, and now, gleaming and glinting under a blue sky, with the sun shining upon it. She stood and watched strings of barges under sail going up and down, and the watermen plying their trade and calling to one another across the water. These moving craft made their way among a forest of masts, more than three thousand, James had said, amused at her amazement, promising that they would take a day out on the river, travel up to Kew to visit the botanic gardens, or ride to Richmond.

      Excursions they would never take, she thought despairingly. But she wasn’t going to give in to despair, nor let regrets cloud her mind, she told herself as she walked up and down, the gravel scrunching lightly under her feet. She could not allow herself the indulgence of reflections and memories.

      Horatio stood at the window. A tap on the door and Thomas Bailey, a colleague of Horatio’s, came into the room and went across to the window, his eyes following Horatio’s as they dwelt on the slim, upright figure walking to and fro upon the gravel.

      “Damned fine woman,” said Bailey.

      Horatio turned on him. “That happens to be my cousin, Miss Darcy.”

      Bailey took a step backwards. “She’s still a very good-looking young lady. Isn’t she the one who ran away with a naval officer, causing all your family no end of trouble? An heiress, no doubt, all you Darcys are as rich as Croesus, and to throw herself away on a mere lieutenant! It doesn’t bear thinking of.”

      “You have a vulgar mind, Thomas,” Darcy said coldly. “And as for rich, you know very well I have a younger son’s portion.” He was silent for a moment. “She is a very distant cousin,” he added in a harsher voice.

      “What is she doing here, in the Inner Temple?” said Bailey. “Oh, I suppose she has come to see you. Has her father asked you to crack the whip? And who’s the lucky fellow, I wouldn’t mind—” He saw the fury on Horatio’s face and stopped himself in time, turning the rest of his sentence into a half cough.

      Normally, Horatio found Bailey a very good kind of fellow, but today he was filled with irritation at the sight of him. “Haven’t you any work to do?”

      “I can take a hint,” said Bailey, amiably enough. He went out with Henty, telling him to look out the papers on Lady Ludlow’s estate.

      Horatio, still standing at the window, saw Cassandra check her pace and then straighten her shoulders, as though taking up a burden, before she made her way to the gate that led out of the Inner Temple.

      He was filled with a sudden rage, at her obstinacy, her refusal to see sense, to conform to the rules and proprieties of that order of society into which she had been born. Would her stepfather really cast her off? Would her mother, who was after all her own flesh and blood, allow him to do so? He was not closely acquainted with Mrs. Partington, but what little he had seen of her he hadn’t СКАЧАТЬ