The Dressmaker’s Daughter. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ have let you kiss me like that. It was naughty of me.’

      ‘You seemed to like it.’

      ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like it,’ she said quietly.

      Neither spoke for long seconds. He knew without any doubt in those moments that he had failed to win her. Deep down he had always known he could never win her. She was beyond his reach.

      ‘If you ever change your mind …’

      ‘If I ever change my mind you’ll be the first to know.’

      ‘Promise?’

      ‘I promise.’

      He hugged her again and they remained holding each other; the warmth of his body detaining Lizzie longer still – much longer than it ought.

      ‘Do me a favour, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘Don’t breathe a word of this to a soul, for fear of it getting back. I intend to finish with Sylvia, but I want her to hear it from me, no one else.’

      ‘I won’t breathe a word, Jesse, I promise. I’d better go back in now. I’m froze to death.’

      ‘Go on, else you’ll catch your death. I’ll be back in a minute. Sylvia thinks I’ve gone up the yard.’

      ‘Sylvia thought you’d gone up the yard,’ a woman’s voice said.

      They both turned. There was no mistaking that tall, willowy frame even in the darkness. Sylvia’s face was in shadow, the street lamp behind her, and they could not see the stony contempt in her eyes. Her tone of voice, however, was cold as frozen marble, and her diction, so prim and correct these days, lent it a colder edge, even frostier than the weather. Lizzie and Jesse instantly, guiltily, let go of each other. They looked at her, then at each other. It was exactly the sort of confrontation neither wanted. They wondered how much she’d heard; but however much, she had seen them embrace, perhaps even witnessed their lingering kiss.

      ‘So this is what’s been going on behind my back, is it? This is why you only want to see me three nights a week, is it, Jesse Clancey?’

      ‘Nothing’s been going on behind your back, Sylvia.’

      ‘It doesn’t seem like it. Well, our Lizzie, you can have him and welcome, and I hope to God as I never see either of you again as long as I live.’ She burst into tears and fished in the pocket of her coat for a handkerchief. ‘I’m disgusted at you, Lizzie, I really am. But I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Not the way I’ve seen you looking at him.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘And to think you’re leading that other poor lad on in there as well. You really ought to be ashamed of yourself. Why, you’re no better than a common harlot … and everybody thinks butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.’

      Lizzie was annoyed at this slur on her innocence. Until now she’d hung her head in sheer embarrassment at being caught in this compromising situation. But why should she feel guilty? She had nothing to hide. It was all innocent enough from her own point of view. She understood how it must have looked to Sylvia, though, so she tempered her pique.

      Sylvia turned to go.

      ‘Sylvia, no matter what it looked like, we were just standing here talking …’

      ‘Yes, in each other’s arms. And I heard what you were saying.’ Sylvia turned to face her again with increasing scorn. ‘I heard him tell you to keep it quiet in case I found out.’ Although she tensed with vehement anger and frustration, her emotions were surprisingly well under control.

      ‘For Christ’s sake, Sylvia,’ Jesse said. ‘You’ve got this all wrong. You’ve got nothing at all to blame Lizzie for. She was trying to protect you.’

      ‘Protect me? Holding you like that? Protect me from what? Do you think I’m completely stupid?’

      ‘Lizzie, you’d best get back inside as you were about to. Leave me and Sylvia to sort this out between us. She might as well know the rest of it.’

      ‘I don’t want to hear anything from either of you,’ Sylvia said, contemptuous of being scolded like a disobedient child. ‘My eyes have never deceived me yet.’

      ‘Well, whether you want to hear or no, you’re going to listen. You can either listen here, or you can listen while I walk you back home, ’cause there’s no way you’re going back into Joe’s house till I’ve told you the truth.’

      Lizzie was about to wish them a happy new year as she walked away, but stopped herself; neither the moment, nor the sentiment were appropriate.

      ‘Lizzie!’ Sylvia called icily. ‘Be sure that after this I shall get my own back. If it takes the rest of my life I’ll get my revenge. No woman steals my man and gets away with it.’

      ‘Sylvia, I haven’t stolen your man. I haven’t even tried.’

      She turned and hurried away, never more glad to be out of an awkward situation. The noise as she passed by the window drowned out any conversation Jesse and Sylvia were now having. Joe was playing ‘Roll out the Barrel’, and most of the guests were singing along to it. Lizzie realised that Sylvia couldn’t have heard very much of what Jesse had said, from that distance at any rate. But seeing her in his arms was enough.

      Back in the house Lizzie shuddered as the warm air enveloped her, displacing the cold. She headed straight for the fire and held her cold hands over it, still reeling from the encounter.

      ‘Every time that door opens the damned cold wafts in,’ Eve complained to Sarah. ‘We might as well be sittin’ up the yard in the privy as sittin’ here. Me belly’s roasted like a bit o’ brisket, and me back’s like ice. It serves me barbarous.’

      As she stood by the fire, thinking, Lizzie didn’t know which experience was having the most profound effect on her: Jesse Clancey’s confession; his scrumptious kisses; or Sylvia’s cold hostility. None should have come as any great surprise. She recalled how Jesse always used to ogle her and smile; and Sylvia had shown signs of resentment then, come to think of it. After her little outburst tonight, though, Lizzie decided she wouldn’t be troubled any more at the thought of going out with Jesse. She resented Sylvia’s accusations to the point where she would welcome the chance to get her own back. If her name was going to be blackened it might as well be justified. Yet she knew she would not do it, not even out of revenge. She couldn’t, for she was not of a vindictive nature; and deep down she understood Sylvia’s possessiveness.

      ‘Lizzie. You’re back.’ It was Ben, standing at her side. She had not noticed him as she gazed into the fire. ‘I went to look for you.’

      She smiled at him absently, politely, as though it were the first time she had ever caught sight of him. Then she strove to shake off the fetters of preoccupation. ‘Hello, Ben,’ she said, her eyes wide, happier now, relieved he hadn’t spotted her with Jesse. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a while.’

      ‘Are you all right? Shall I get you a drink?’

      ‘I should already have one somewhere. You poured me some lemonade before I went out, didn’t you? I think I fancy something stronger now though. Something to warm me up a bit.’

      ‘I’ll get you a glass of port, eh?’

      The piano playing СКАЧАТЬ