Richard and Judy Bookclub - 3 Bestsellers in 1: The American Boy, The Savage Garden, The Righteous Men. Andrew Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Chapter 49

      Sir George most obligingly rode over on Thursday morning with the news that a suite of apartments in a house in Westgate had become available for the night of the assembly. Lord Vauden and his party had taken them for several nights but the sudden illness of a near relation from whom he had expectations had compelled him to withdraw. Sir George had taken the liberty of bespeaking the apartments in Mr Carswall’s name, though of course this conferred no obligation upon Mr Carswall, and it would be the work of a moment to cancel the arrangement if it did not suit because Captain Ruispidge was engaged to dine in Gloucester that very evening.

      This was just the encouragement Mr Carswall needed. Not only was he flattered by Sir George’s kind attention but the suggestion removed the chief practical obstacle to the scheme. Sir George added that his mother was greatly looking forward to renewing her acquaintance with Miss Carswall and Mrs Frant. When we were sitting in the drawing room after dinner, Mr Carswall returned to this condescension on the part of Lady Ruispidge.

      “But Papa,” Miss Carswall said, “you know Sophie cannot come to the ball.”

      “Of course not. But there is no reason why she should not come to Gloucester with us, is there?” He turned to Mrs Frant who was seated at the tea table. “You will enjoy the shops, I daresay, eh? We have been very cooped up here at Monkshill, and it will do us good to have a change.”

      “Yes, sir,” she said.

      Groaning with the effort, he leaned on the table and patted her hand with his great paw. “You cannot mope for ever, my dear. You shall buy something pretty for yourself. And something for the boy, perhaps, too.”

      Mrs Frant pulled her hand away and began to gather together the tea things.

      “Sir George brought me a note from Mrs Johnson today,” Miss Carswall said brightly. “She enclosed a receipt for eel soup from Lady Ruispidge. So obliging. I wonder how many of us will go to Gloucester, and how many beds are spoken for us. One would not like to be cramped or thrown together with people one does not care for.”

      “No,” said Mrs Frant. “I can think of nothing worse.”

      The ball at the Bell Inn was on Wednesday, the 12th January. It formed the principal topic of conversation at Monkshill-park in the week before – where our party would lodge, what they should wear, whom they would encounter and whom they would like to encounter. The boys and I were to stay at Monkshill.

      On Monday, two days before the ball, I came into the small sitting room to look for my pupils and found Miss Carswall with her nose in a book on the sofa by the fire. I explained my errand.

      “Why not let them run wild this afternoon?” She yawned, exposing very white, very sharp teeth. “There is nothing so fatiguing as a printed page, I find.”

      “What is it you are reading?”

      She held out a cloth-bound duodecimo volume. “Domestic Cookery, and Useful Receipt Book,” she said. “It is a treasure house of valuable information. Here it tells you how to make a mutton-ham, which sounds a monstrous contradiction, and probably tastes like one too. And here are two and a half pages devoted solely to the laundry maid and her duties. It is so lowering. I had not realised there was so much useful knowledge in the world. It seems quite boundless, like the Pacific Ocean.”

      I said something civil in reply, along the lines of being sure that a student of her ability would soon acquire all the knowledge she needed.

      “The study of books does not come easily to me, Mr Shield. You must not think me a blue, far from it. But Papa believes that every woman should know domestic economy.” Her eyelids fluttered. “He bids me model myself in that respect on Lady Ruispidge.” Her hand flew to her left eye. “Oh!”

      “What is it, Miss Carswall?”

      “I believe I have something in my eye.” Miss Carswall rose unsteadily to her feet, pouting with vexation, and examined her face in the mirror above the fireplace. “I cannot see anything in it but the light is so bad over here. It is such an irritation.”

      “Shall I ring the bell?”

      “They will take an age to come, and then they will have to find my maid. No, Mr Shield, would you be very kind and come with me over to the window and see if you can see it? Whatever it might be. It is unlikely to be a fly at this time of year. Perhaps a speck of soot or a hair. Even an errant eyelash can have such a profound and disproportionate effect on human happiness.”

      I followed her to the window where she turned and held her face up to me. I came close to her and peered into her left eye. When you are near a woman, you smell her scent, not just the perfume she is wearing but the entire olfactory nature of her – a compound of perfume, the odour of her clothes, and the natural animal smell underlying all.

      “Pray turn your head a little to the left,” I said. “There – that is better.”

      “Can you see anything? In the corner.”

      “Which corner?”

      She giggled. “I am not thinking clearly. The inner corner.”

      I brought my face a little closer so that I could see more clearly and, simultaneously, she raised herself on tiptoe and turned her face an inch or so to the right. Her lips brushed mine.

      I gave a startled yelp and jumped back.

      “I’m so sorry, Mr Shield,” she said with complete composure.

      “I – I beg your pardon,” I muttered wildly, my heart beating like a drum.

      “Not at all. At first I thought the hair had been dislodged but I think it is still there. I wonder if I might trouble you to have another look.”

      She raised her face up to me again and smiled. I brought my mouth down on hers and felt her lips move and for an instant part against mine. Then her hands caught mine and she took a step back.

      “Come away from the window,” she murmured, and like figures in a dance we moved a few paces together, as one creature, and then began to kiss again. She rested her hands on my shoulders and I ran my palms over her hips. Her warmth enveloped me like a flame.

      Thirty seconds? A minute at most. There was a clatter on the other side of the door. We sprang apart. In an instant, I was contemplating the view across the terrace to the river far below, while Miss Carswall was seated on the sofa, turning the pages of Domestic Cookery with an expression of rapt concentration on her face. A plump maid with a damp red face carried a scuttle of coals into the room. She made up the fire and tidied the grate. While she was still rattling the fire irons, the boys rushed in.

      “Mr Harmwell is going to show us how to trap rabbits,” Charlie said proudly. “Ain’t it famous? If we was shipwrecked, you know, like Robinson Crusoe, we could dine like kings on rabbits.”

      “How very kind of Mr Harmwell,” Miss Carswall said.

      “He is a very kind man,” Charlie said simply. “Edgar says he is quite different from the niggers they have at home.”

      “Why is that?” I asked.

      “Most СКАЧАТЬ