A Country Girl. Nancy Carson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ it even before I met Marigold, my new sweetheart. Somehow I always seemed to lack the courage to get round to saying it.

       I suppose that, because I wasn’t committed enough to you, it was easy to be captivated by another girl. The trouble is, I wanted to tell you all this myself. I didn’t want you to hear it first from somebody else. However you found out, you knew almost as soon as I knew about Marigold myself. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know who told you, but gossip can be a wicked thing. The benefit for you, Harriet, is that you are now well rid of me and free to do as you please. There are plenty of other fish in the sea. So if another young man pops up who you like, well, you’ll be able to go out with him with a clear conscience if he asks you.

       I am only sorry that your father has forbidden us to meet ever again. Despite everything, I would still like to consider you my friend, and I suppose I always will. If ever I see you about, I hope that you will not ignore me because of my actions, which I realise must appear very unseemly to you.

       I remain, therefore, your friend,

       Algernon Stokes.

      During those long weeks, Marigold pondered deeply this unanticipated love affair which had so radically changed her outlook and expectations of life. She seemed to have grown up, almost overnight. She was no longer the frivolous adolescent girl who ran ahead to the locks as she’d done, even as a child, to help her father, but a woman, with a woman’s feelings. Her love for Algie was earnest, and growing more intense the longer she was away from him. She did not want to lose him, but was fearful that he might lose patience waiting so long, and so seek Harriet’s company again. Harriet was a perpetual concern, somebody Marigold worried about constantly. What if Harriet, eager to welcome Algie back, felt obliged to give in to any sexual demands he might make, just to make sure she held on to him? Such thoughts plagued her incessantly, especially when she went to bed at night. They kept her awake, rousing her jealousy and her anxiety to intolerable heights. It was an unremitting fear, a fear that made her all the more anxious to be with Algie and beat Harriet to it. Consummation of their love was the one factor that she believed had the potential to bind them together irrevocably, totally, both mentally and physically. It was the one single factor which would make sure Harriet Meese was forever shut out of Algie’s thoughts and Algie’s life. And although Algie had implied that that one single factor would at some time be expected in his relationship with Marigold, he had never actually pressed her too hard into feeling that it must happen immediately and at all costs. Whenever she had gently rebuffed his amorous advances, he had never shown any resentment, merely good-humoured resignation.

      Any reluctance had been on her part. Yet it was not a reluctance in the sense that she was unwilling. Oh, she would have been willing enough already. Her uncertainty about Algie had precluded her so far, and she’d told him so honestly. If, when next they met, he was still as keen on her as he had been last time, she would feel much more at ease, much more inclined. They had talked about it, and he had asked her views on whether she felt it was right before marriage. Since then, she had considered everything there was to consider on the subject, and with some preoccupation, including the risks, the shame on her family if she became pregnant, the subsequent worry it would most certainly cause her mother, who had worries of her own without adding to them. She’d anticipated the guilt she might feel doing something which would only collect her mother’s and father’s total disapproval. She’d also pondered the life she could expect if Algie was dishonourable and left her with a child, to a life on the narrowboats with all that it entailed. It was not an arrangement she would wish for. Rather she looked forward already to a life on dry land in a nice warm house with a cosy fireplace … with Algie.

      Yet she had to trust him. For her own peace of mind there was no alternative. She could hardly go through life mistrusting this man she loved so much. It was not that he did not inspire her trust, more that she lacked confidence in her ability to keep him interested, and she was increasingly apprehensive about Harriet in consequence. If she submitted to Algie, she would be doing it out of sheer love and respect for him; to better their relationship; to add a deeper, more understanding dimension to it, to render it more secure.

      Naturally enough, she had no idea of what physical sensations to expect from full-blown lovemaking, but its promise was tantalising. She’d heard other women talk about it from time to time – usually married women – and their comments, whether sincere or boasting, whether guileless or bravado, led her to believe that it must bring some sort of pleasure as yet unimaginable, but intense enough for them to ignore the risks, whatever some might claim.

      She was not too young for that sort of thing, either, especially when she considered that her mother must have been already carrying her at the same age. She was big enough and old enough to bear children, old enough to be married, so certainly old enough to conceive a child. She even knew of girls who’d had babies at sixteen.

      She thought about talking it all over with Algie first, but dismissed the idea. She knew his opinion already. It would be like inviting a hungry man to share a meal with her. In any case, there was nothing he could say that might significantly alter her position. The more she considered it, the clearer it became: it was time to break any hold that Harriet might still have, and achieve it by allowing Algie to make love to her, body and soul. She had already discerned his susceptibility. Besides, the prospect of it thrilled her; she was sure she would enjoy it at least as much as him …

       Chapter 7

      Kate Stokes had quickly fallen into the habit of calling for Harriet and Priss Meese on Wednesday nights so they could arrive together at the Drill Hall for rehearsals. This particular Wednesday towards the end of June was no exception, and Kate tapped on the side door at the top of the entry that led to the Meeses’ house. She was not invited in, however, nor was she likely to be as the sister of that bluebeard Algie, yet neither did Harriet and Priss keep her waiting out of deference to her; after all, she was not Algie, but his sister who had no control, no dominion over him. As they all walked down the entry together, the clickety-tap of their dainty boots echoed off the blue-brick floor.

      They dispensed with the small talk within the first fifty yards and got down to the more serious business of discussing The Forest Princess.

      ‘How are you getting on with your lines, Kate?’ Priss asked.

      ‘Pretty well, I reckon,’ she replied brightly. ‘It’s a big part, but I’m determined to learn the words by heart till I’m sick to death of ’em. I don’t want nobody moaning to Mr Osborne that he should’ve picked somebody with more experience to play Pocahontas.’

      ‘All that archaic language,’ Harriet remarked. ‘All those thees and thous.’

      ‘I know … Still, that’s how they used to talk in the olden days.’

      ‘Even the Redskins, according to whoever wrote the play … What do you think of Mr Osborne as Powhatan?’

      ‘As Pocahontas’s father? I reckon he’ll be all right, ’specially when he’s wearing that feather headdress, and he’s got some o’ that grease paint on to make his fizzog brown.’

      Priss smiled. ‘I think so too … He’s quite a character, you know, is Mr Osborne. So dedicated to the society.’

      ‘You know that Katie Richards who played the lead part in that comedy you did before?’ Kate asked.

      ‘In My First Client, you mean?’

      ‘Yes. She hasn’t СКАЧАТЬ