The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ more, chewing over Brooke, and then rounded on me. “But he doesn’t matter – not now. You do. You’re here, and you’re inopportune.” He paused, considering me. “Yes … you should have died.”

      I wished to G-d he’d stop harping on that – you could see where it was going to lead. This wasn’t Don Solomon of Brook Street any longer, not so you’d notice – this was a beastly aborigine who went plundering about in ships festooned with skulls, and I was an inconvenient husband, ’nuff said. In addition, he clearly had more screws loose than a drunk sapper – all that moonshine about worshipping Elspeth, not being able to live without her, making her a queen – well! It would have been laughable if it hadn’t been true; after all, when a man kidnaps a married woman and fights a war over her, it ain’t just a passing fancy.

      But one thing was plain – his wooing hadn’t prospered, or I’d have been overside long ago, with a bag of coal round my ankles. Why the h--l couldn’t he have rattled her in London, and got tired of it, and we’d have been spared all this? But here we were, in a pickle whose delicacy made my flesh crawl. I considered, took a deep breath, and tried not to talk shrill.

      “Well, now, Don Solomon,” says I, “I take note of what you’ve said, and – ah – I’m glad we’ve had this little prose together, you know, and you’ve told me – um – what you think. Yes – you’ve put it very fair, and while I can’t but deplore what you’ve done, mind – well, I understand your feelings, as any man of sensibility must – and I’m that, I hope – and I see you were deeply affected by … well, by my wife – and I know what it’s like, of course – I mean, she’s a little stunner, we agree-heavens yes,” I babbled on, while he gaped in bewilderment, small blame to him.

      “But you’ve got it quite wrong you know; we’re a devoted couple, Elspeth – Mrs Flashman – and I, ask anyone – never a cross word – sublimely happy—”

      “And that whore Lade?” he snarled. “Is that your devotion?”

      “Why, my dear chap! The merest accident – I mean, that I noticed her at all – pure jealousy at seeing my wife flattered by your attentions – a man of your address, I mean, polished manners, charming, stinking rich – no, no, I mean, I found myself quite cut out – and Mrs Lade, well … heat of the moment – you know yourself how one can be carried away—”

      It was touch and go that he didn’t savage me on the bed, considering the drivel I was talking – but it sometimes works, rubbish with a ring of sincerity, when you’re stuck with a hopeless case. It didn’t here; he strode to the bed, seized me by the shoulder, and drew back his great fist.

      “You infernal liar!” cries he. “D’you think you can gammon me with your snivelling?”

      “I’m not!” I bawled. “I love Elspeth, and she loves me, and you know it! She don’t want you!” I’d done it now, I could see, so I went roaring on: “That’s why you wish I’d died – because you know if you harm me now, your last hope of winning her is gone! Don’t – I’m an invalid – my wound!”

      His fingers bit my shoulder like a vice; suddenly he flung me back and straightened up, with an ugly laugh.

      “So that’s what you’re counting on! Why, you miserable toad, she doesn’t even know you’re here. I could drop you overboard, and she’d never know. Aye, you go pale at—”

      “I don’t believe you! If that were true you’d have done me in already – you tried it in Singapore, rot you, with your foul black gangsters!”

      He stared at me. “I’ve no notion what you’re talking about,” and he sounded sincere, curse him. “I don’t expect you to understand it, Flashman, but the reason you’re still alive is that I’m a man of honour. When I take her to her throne – and I shall – it will be with a clean hand, not one fouled with a husband’s blood – even a husband like you.”

      That was reassuring enough to banish my immediate terrors; I even recovered sufficiently for a cautious sneer.

      “Talk’s cheap, Solomon. Honour, says you – but you ain’t above wife-stealing, and cheating at cricket – oh, aye, breaking a chap’s wicket when you’ve laid him out foul! If you’re such a man of honour,” I taunted him, “you’d let Elspeth choose for herself – but you daren’t, ’cos you know she’d plump for me, warts and all!”

      He stood stock still, just looking at me, without expression, fingering his earring again. Then after a moment, he nodded, slowly.

      “Yes,” says he quietly. “It must come to that, must it not? Very well.”

      He threw open the door, and barked an order, glancing oddly at me while we waited. Feet sounded – and I felt my heart begin to thump uncontrollably as I sat up in bed; G-d knows why, but I was suddenly dizzy – and then she was there in the doorway, and for a moment I thought it was someone else – this was some Eastern nymph, in a clinging sarong of red silk, her skin tanned to the gold of honey, whereas Elspeth’s was like milk. Her blonde hair was bleached almost white by the sun – and then I saw those magnificent blue eyes, round with bewilderment like her lips, and I heard a sob coming out of me: “Elspeth!”

      She gave a little scream, and stumbled in the doorway, putting her hand to her eyes – and then she was running to my arms, crying “Harry! Oh, Harry!” flinging herself at me, her mouth against mine, clutching my head in wild hands, sobbing hysterically, and I forgot Solomon, and the ache of my wound, and fear, and danger, as I pressed that lovely softness against me and kissed and kissed her until she went suddenly limp, and slid from my arms to the floor in a dead faint. It was only then, as I scrambled out, clutching my bandaged side, that I realized the door was closed, and Solomon was gone.

      I tried to haul her up to the bed, but I was still weak as a kitten from my wound and confinement, and couldn’t manage it. So I had to be content with pawing and fondling until her eyes fluttered open, and then she clung to me, muttering my name, and after we had babbled thankfully for a few minutes and exchanged our news, so to speak, we got down to the reunion in earnest – and in the middle of it, while I was just wondering if my wound was about to come asunder, she suddenly pulled her mouth free of mine and cried:

      “Harry – what is Mrs Leo Lade to you?”

      “Hey?” I yelped. “What? What d’ye mean? Who’s she? I mean—”

      “You know her very well! The Duke’s … companion, who paid you such singular attention. What is between you?”

      “Good G-d! At a time like this – Elspeth, my dear, what has Mrs Lade to do with anything?”

      “That is what I am asking. No, desist – Don Solomon said … hinted … of an attachment. Is this true?”

      You wouldn’t credit it – here she was, on a pirate ship, having been abducted, shanghaied round half the East, through war, ambush, and confounded head-hunters, reunited with her long-lost spouse, and just as he was proving his undying affection at grievous risk to his health, her jealous little pea-brain was off on another tack altogether. Unbelievable – and most unflattering. But I was equal to the occasion.

      “Solomon!” cries I. “That viper! Has he been trying to poison your mind against me with his lies? I might have guessed it! Not content with stealing you, the villain traduces me to you – don’t you see? He’ll stop at nothing to win you away from me.”

      “Oh.” She frowned up at me – G-d, she was lovely, СКАЧАТЬ