Swing, Brother, Swing. Ngaio Marsh

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      ‘My dearest Carlisle,’ she said crisply, and kissed her niece with precision, on both cheeks.

      ‘Dear Aunt Cile, how nice to see you.’

      ‘It is charming of you to come.’

      Carlisle thought that they had uttered these greetings like characters in a somewhat dated comedy, but their pleasure, nevertheless, was real. They had an affection for each other, an unexacting enjoyment of each other’s company. ‘What I like about Aunt Cecile,’ she had said to Edward, ‘is her refusal to be rattled about anything.’ He had reminded her of Lady Pastern’s occasional rages and Carlisle retorted that these outbursts acted like safety-valves and had probably saved her aunt many times from committing some act of physical violence upon Lord Pastern.

      They sat together by the large window. Carlisle, responding punctually to the interchange of inquiries and observations which Lady Pastern introduced, allowed her gaze to dwell with pleasure on the modest cornices and well-proportioned panels; on chairs, tables and cabinets which, while they had no rigid correspondence of period, achieved an agreeable harmony born of long association. ‘I’ve always liked this room,’ she said presently. ‘I’m glad you don’t change it.’

      ‘I have defended it,’ Lady Pastern said, ‘in the teeth of your uncle’s most determined assaults.’

      ‘Ah,’ thought Carlisle, ‘the preliminaries are concluded. Now, we’re off.’

      ‘Your uncle,’ Lady Pastern continued, ‘has, during the last sixteen years, made periodic attempts to introduce prayer-wheels, brass Buddhas, a totem-pole, and the worst excesses of the surrealists. I have withstood them all. On one occasion I reduced to molten silver an image of some Aztec deity. Your uncle purchased it in Mexico City. Apart from its repellent appearance I had every reason to believe it spurious.’

      ‘He doesn’t change,’ Carlisle murmured.

      ‘It would be more correct, my dear child, to say that he is constant in inconstancy.’ Lady Pastern made a sudden and vigorous gesture with both her hands. ‘He is ridiculous to contemplate,’ she said strongly, ‘and entirely impossible to live with. A madman, except in a few unimportant technicalities. He is not, alas, certifiable. If he were, I should know what to do.’

      ‘Oh, come!’

      ‘I repeat, Carlisle, I should know what to do. Do not misunderstand me. For myself, I am resigned. I have acquired armour. I can suffer perpetual humiliation. I can shrug my shoulders at unparalleled buffooneries. But when my daughter is involved,’ said Lady Pastern with uplifted bust, ‘complaisance is out of the question. I assert myself. I give battle.’

      ‘What’s Uncle George up to, exactly?’

      ‘He is conniving, where Félicité is concerned, at disaster. I cannot hope that you are unaware of her attachment.’

      ‘Well –’

      ‘Evidently you are aware of it. A professional bandsman who, as no doubt you heard on your arrival, is here, now, at your uncle’s invitation, in the ballroom. It is almost certain that Félicité is listening to him. An utterly impossible young man of a vulgarity –’ Lady Pastern paused and her lips trembled, ‘I have seen them together at the theatre,’ she said. ‘He is beyond everything. One cannot begin to describe. I am desperate.’

      ‘I’m so sorry, Aunt Cile,’ Carlisle said uneasily.

      ‘I knew I should have your sympathy, dearest child. I hope I shall enlist your help. Félicité admires and loves you. She will naturally make you her confidante.’

      ‘Yes, but Aunt Cile –’

      A clamour of voices broke out in some distant part of the house. ‘They are going,’ said Lady Pastern, hurriedly. ‘It is the end of the repetition. In a moment, your uncle and Félicité will appear. Carlisle, may I implore you –’

      ‘I don’t suppose –’ Carlisle began dubiously, and at that juncture, hearing her uncle’s voice on the landing, rose nervously to her feet. Lady Pastern, with a grimace of profound significance, laid her hand on her niece’s arm. Carlisle felt a hysterical giggle rise in her throat. The door opened and Lord Pastern and Bagott came trippingly into the room.

       CHAPTER 3 Pre-Prandial

      He was short, not more than five foot seven, but so compactly built that he did not give the impression of low stature. Everything about him was dapper, though not obtrusively so; his clothes, the flower in his coat, his well-brushed hair and moustache. His eyes, light grey with pinkish rims, had a hot impertinent look, his underlip jutting out and there were clearly defined spots of local colour over his cheek-bones. He came briskly into the room, bestowed a restless kiss upon his niece and confronted his wife.

      ‘Who’s dinin’?’ he said.

      ‘Ourselves, Félicité, Carlisle, of course, and Edward Manx. And I have asked Miss Henderson to join us, tonight.’

      ‘Two more,’ said Lord Pastern. ‘I’ve asked Bellairs and Rivera.’

      ‘That is quite impossible, George,’ said Lady Pastern, calmly.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Apart from other unanswerable considerations, there is not enough food for two extra guests.’

      ‘Tell ‘em to open a tin.’

      ‘I cannot receive these persons for dinner.’

      Lord Pastern grinned savagely. ‘All right. Rivera can take Félicité to a restaurant and Bellairs can come here. Same numbers as before. How are you, Lisle?’

      ‘I’m very well, Uncle George.’

      ‘Félicité will not dine out with this individual, George. I shall not permit it.’

      ‘You can’t stop ‘em.’

      ‘Félicité will respect my wishes.’

      ‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Lord Pastern. ‘You’re thirty years behind the times, m’dear. Give a gel her head and she’ll find her feet.’ He paused, evidently delighted with the aphorism. ‘Way you’re goin’, you’ll have an elopement on your hands. Comes to that, I don’t see the objection.’

      ‘Are you demented, George?’

      ‘Half the women in London’d give anything to be in Fée’s boots.’

      ‘A Mexican bandsman.’

      ‘Fine well set-up young feller. Inoculate your old stock. That’s Shakespeare, ain’t it, Lisle? I understand he comes of a perfectly good Spanish family. Hidalgo, or whatever it is,’ he added vaguely. ‘A feller of good family happens to be an artist and you go and condemn him. Sort of thing that makes you sick.’ He turned to his niece: ‘I’ve been thinkin’ seriously of givin’ up the title, Lisle.’

       СКАЧАТЬ