I’ll Bring You Buttercups. Elizabeth Elgin

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘He’ll be coming down, soon. What will he do then, do you think?’

      ‘Holy orders, I imagine. Strange isn’t it, that I’ve sired a saint and a sinner – and a gigolo.’

      ‘Oh, poor Albert! Don’t call him that!’

      ‘Then what else should I say, will you tell me, when our youngest goes off with a woman fifteen years older – though he did have the sense to pick a wealthy one and the decency to marry her. But he’s a kept man, Helen, though I suppose I’m the last one to talk about being kept.’

      ‘Don’t, my dear.’ Her eyes showed pity. ‘He did what he thought best, I shouldn’t wonder. And you do hear from him from time to time. Only last week, Clemmy said there had been a letter from Capetown.’

      ‘Yes, and Auckland before that. And three months ago, one from St Petersburg. The lady must have a liking for travel. But it’s Elliot who caused the upset this morning. Somehow Clemmy found out – there was a caller, so maybe that was how. About the girl in Creesby – but I don’t have to tell you, do I?’

      ‘No.’ Helen studied her glass. ‘I’d – heard. Is the girl – I mean, did he get –’

      ‘Get her pregnant? I don’t believe so, but nothing Elliot does now would surprise me. And it isn’t the first time there’s been a scandal. There won’t be a father in the county lets his daughter within a mile of him if he carries on like this. He’ll end up with a butcher’s daughter, just see if he doesn’t. You’ve heard the saying, Helen: from clogs to clogs in three generations – back to Mary Anne Pendennis, it’ll be.’ Morosely he held out his empty glass. ‘Do you mind, m’dear?’

      ‘Don’t blame yourself, Edward.’ She placed the decanter on the table at his elbow. ‘Elliot has been spoiled and we can’t expect our children to be as perfect as we are,’ she smiled impishly. ‘But you aren’t alone. I have doubts and worries, too – Robert, you know …’

      ‘Trouble with the tea? Nothing wrong, I hope. Last time I asked you seemed to think there’d be a good picking.’

      ‘I was talking about his liking for bachelorhood. I want him home, Edward, not growing tea. And I want him married, and children – sons – about the place.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘And he stays unmarried and won’t tell me why. But I think he’s taken up with a married woman or someone who isn’t suitable, so I don’t ask. But why else would he go back to Assam after John died, when his place is here, now, at Rowangarth? And with almost indecent haste, too. Why doesn’t he tell me, Edward? Why the secrecy?’

      ‘As you just said – why can’t our youngsters be like us.’ He reached for her hand and held it gently, briefly. ‘But tell me about Julia? She’ll be having a fine time in London with Anne Lavinia away in France.’

      ‘She does have Hawthorn with her,’ Helen hastened to say. ‘I’ve missed her, but she’ll be home soon, full of the things they’ve seen. I wonder what they’re doing now?’

      ‘Oh, my Lor’,’ Alice muttered to the brass taps she was polishing furiously. ‘I didn’t ought to have let her go.’ ‘No, Miss Julia,’ she should have said, arms folded defiantly, ‘you don’t take one step in the direction of that Newgate Street motor bus without me beside you. And don’t you dare go to his lodgings, even if you don’t intend setting a foot over the doorstone, without your maid with you!’

      But she hadn’t said it. She had stood there, lips set in disapproval as Julia Sutton, hat at an angle to hide the worst of the bruising, set out to find a street called Little Britain and a door with 53A upon it. Lord alone knew what trouble she could land herself in, her being so straightforward in her ways and a believer in votes for women. Only the Lord Himself knew, and for sure He’d never tell. Closing her eyes tightly she prayed fervently, ‘Get her back home in one piece, will you? And soon, please, afore she lands herself in more trouble. And if you do, Lord, I swear I’ll never let her go out alone again – not ever!’

      Julia Sutton had stepped off the motor bus, walked the length of King Edward Street and found Little Britain with no trouble at all. Yet it came as a shock to see the street he lodged in, for though 53A was situated above the premises of a stationer and bookbinder, it was a rundown, cheap-looking shop and close by – too close – was an establishment whose sign announced that its owner was the purveyor of sweetbreads and pickled oxtongues.

      Yet the doctor’s lodgings were comfortingly near the gates of St Bartholomew’s church, and the curtains at his windows were bright and clean. Doubts gone, she lifted the knocker and brought it down firmly, the noise of it echoing hollowly inside, mocking her that she’d been foolish enough ever to hope to find him at home and more foolish still to imagine that anyone who lived in so unfashionable a street could have employed a scrubbing-maid, let alone a housekeeper. And why had she come here – come without thinking – because might not Andrew MacMalcolm be in love with a nurse; might it not even be his wife who opened the door to her, in spite of those missing shirt buttons?

      There were footfalls on the stairs – on uncarpeted stairs – then the sound of a bolt being drawn. She ran her tongue round dry lips as the door opened.

      He was there as she had hoped, wished, prayed he might be, and for a long moment they stood, her eyes raised to his. Then he said, ‘Miss Sutton.’

      His voice was low, indulgent; his eyes kind. He lifted his hand and laid gentle fingertips to the bruising beneath her eye.

      ‘My dear,’ he said, smiling softly, ‘I hoped you would come …’

      ‘So you see, it was right. Oh, I had doubts,’ Julia murmured huskily as they shared the firelight in the small parlour. ‘When I was waiting for the door to be answered I nearly turned and ran. But he was there and he isn’t married. Such a relief …’

      ‘Relief. Yes.’ Alice rose to build coal on the fire. Indeed, she in her turn had never been so relieved as when Miss Julia walked in, none the worse, it had seemed. ‘But miss, I’ve been thinking and I’ve made up my mind. If you’re to go out again, I shall go, too. I promised her ladyship I would see to you, and don’t tell me no, because it’ll do you no good.’

      She had suffered agonies of conscience for almost three hours, and if there was to be a next time, it was best Miss Julia was given fair warning.

      ‘Hawthorn, listen. I didn’t go into his rooms. He was gentleman enough not to ask me to, because we’d have been alone together. At six tonight he goes on duty – all night – and tomorrow he’ll be sleeping till noon.’

      He had told her that, walking her slowly back to the motor bus, seeing her safely aboard it, raising his hat as it moved away.

      ‘He’s very proper, Hawthorn. He’s invited you and me to walk in the park. At two tomorrow. And because you’ll be there, it’s perfectly all right for me to invite him back to tea.

      ‘So are you satisfied, you straight-laced Hawthorn, or are you going to be stuffy about it and say I can’t meet him because we haven’t been properly introduced?’

      Alice pursed her mouth into a Mrs Shaw button, and frowned sufficiently deeply to make sure that Julia understood she was not giving in easily. Then, carefully considering every word, she murmured, ‘I think, just this once, miss, you might accept the invitation, since I’m to be there.’

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