A Fallen Woman. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ to eke some factual information about them, but also keen to divert emphasis from herself. ‘Is it true that you are a descendant of William the Conqueror?’

      The curate roared. ‘Dear me, I doubt it. My ancestors were in fact Huguenots,’ he explained. ‘Somewhat later in history than the Conqueror, but hence the French-sounding name I’m saddled with.’

      ‘Huguenots!’ Priss sighed, as if it were a great relief. ‘I heard that you are a direct aristocratic descendant of William the Conqueror.’

      ‘Then I fear I must be a massive disappointment.’

      ‘Oh…au contraire, Mr Delacroix. They were persecuted then, your ancestors.’

      He shrugged. ‘The persecution of the Huguenots of France is well documented.’

      ‘I understand they were such clever people. They brought brilliant talents with them when they arrived on these shores, to the detriment of France in the long run.’

      ‘Just so. But at the time, the French were more concerned with the Huguenots’ heretical religious beliefs.’

      ‘I trust you don’t follow in their footsteps yourself though, when it comes to heretical beliefs,’ Priss remarked, wide-eyed and gaining in self-confidence.

      ‘I’m afraid I do.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘But that’s strictly between us, Miss Meese.’

      ‘Indeed? Well, there’s a turn-up!’

      ‘Does that shock you?’

      ‘I…I don’t know,’ she answered, half in admiration, half in disappointment. ‘I suppose it rather depends on the degree of heresy. I wonder if I would approve or disapprove.’

      ‘Then might I be so bold as to suggest that we meet sometime and perhaps discuss my heretical beliefs?’

      ‘Oh, Mr Delacroix!’ Priss exclaimed, feeling quite deliciously hot at this entirely unexpected invitation. ‘I would be very happy to. When should we, do you think?’

      * * *

      Harriet had taken the day calmly, a little surprised at her own detachment. For some weeks she had been very excited, wound up about her forthcoming marriage, but on her wedding day a remarkable calm had descended on her. She had married Clarence Froggatt, and all had passed off without a hitch, without anybody claiming at the last minute any just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together in holy matrimony.

      She saw it all with exceptional clarity; the nervous perspiration on Clarence’s nose, his perpetual smile that day; the confidence in Robert Sankey’s demeanour as best man, the clever speech he delivered; the striking figures of those of her sisters in their blossoming teen years – although they were no doubt destined, as she was, to grow stout eventually, like their mother. She was touched by her mother’s tears, which she hoped might be regret at losing a daughter, though more likely just relief that a wedding had come off after all, meaning one less daughter to keep.

      She and Clarence were circulating the room together arm in arm, enjoying brief discourses with each of their guests against a background of tinkling glasses, sporadic laughter and the insistent thrum of many conversations. They reached eventually the foursome comprising Algie, Marigold, Benjamin and Aurelia, standing grouped together, having left the table while it was being cleared. Harriet had something in common with these young people now; she was also married. She was at last content that she had attained that heady state of social acceptance and respectability that was the goal of every self-respecting young woman – wed to a well-set-up young man with a solid future in prospect. At last, she was the equal of Aurelia whom she had envied greatly, not for her man – certainly not for her man – a little for her looks, but mostly for her status.

      Talk at first was complimentary; how marvellous everybody looked, what a terrific spread Mr Meese had arranged, how delightful the bridesmaids were in their identical frocks, how beautifully Priss had decorated the church.

      ‘Oh, Priss was at the church till quite late last evening doing the flowers,’ Harriet commented.

      ‘What it must be to have such a devoted sister,’ Algie remarked, making the mental comparison with his own.

      ‘You think so? I thought you knew our Priss better than that, Algie. I’m sure it had more to do with the likelihood of bumping into the curate.’

      ‘It looks as if her prayers are being answered,’ Clarence commented with a nod in Priss’s direction. ‘Mr Delacroix seems almost indecently attentive. How much has he had to drink?’

      Harriet craned her neck to gain a peek. ‘Oh, but I do hope you’re right, Clarence,’ she gushed. ‘She’s drooled over that man for so long now, poor girl. I’d dearly love to see her settled.’

      ‘Just think of it,’ Aurelia chimed in, ‘the prospect of another wedding on the horizon.’

      ‘Father would have a fit.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The expense.’

      ‘But, Harriet,’ Clarence said, laughing at her reaction, ‘a man with seven daughters must expect to be impoverished for the rest of his life, especially if he pays for their weddings.’

      ‘I don’t recall your father paying for yours, Aurelia,’ Benjamin goaded. ‘I seem to recall that I paid.’

      ‘I have two retorts to that, Benjamin,’ Aurelia replied haughtily, while he swigged his beer. ‘Firstly, I didn’t want my father’s money, or anything else that was his. And secondly, I believe you’ve been repaid since…with interest.’ She was referring to the small legacy from her late, estranged father, money that Aurelia had been pressed into handing to Benjamin to help prop up his ailing business.

      Benjamin flashed narrowed eyes at her in response.

      Algie noticed the exchange, for he knew what Aurelia meant by her comment. ‘Have you played much cricket this summer, Benjamin?’ he asked in an effort to diffuse the moment.

      ‘Too busy,’ he answered brusquely, glancing at Aurelia, for it had been Maude Atkins and the irresistible combination of her horizontal allure and her bed that had kept him busy, not his factory.

      ‘The team has missed you,’ Clarence admitted generously. ‘I’ve only played a few matches myself but, when I have, we could’ve done with your batting. Other people have said the same. You really must make an effort next season, Benjamin.’

      Benjamin afforded himself a smile, but avoided all eye contact. ‘I’d like to, I’ve always loved cricket.’

      ‘You’d get your place back in the team at once.’

      ‘I take it then, Clarence, that you’ll be allowed out on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon to play next season?’

      ‘Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?’

      ‘Isn’t it a question of Harriet allowing it?’

      Clarence, humouring Benjamin, looked at Harriet exaggeratedly and raised his eyebrows to prompt her for a response.

      ‘Oh, I don’t suppose Harriet will have much say in the matter, Benjamin,’ Harriet herself declared. ‘Clarence will do as he pleases СКАЧАТЬ