Flashman’s Lady. George Fraser MacDonald

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Mr Tighe all the way to Canterbury, too, and concluded that if he was fool enough to throw money away, that was his business – what kind of odds could he hope to get on my losing my wicket, for after all, I batted well down the list, and might easily carry my bat through the hand?¹⁰ Who’d wager above three hundred on that? Well, that was his concern, not mine – but I’d have to keep a close eye on him, and not become entangled with his sort; at least he wasn’t expecting me to throw the game, but quite the reverse; he was trying to bribe me to do well, in fact. H’m.

      The upshot of it was, I bowled pretty well for Mynn’s eleven, and when I went to the wicket to bat, I stuck to my blockhole like glue, to the disappointment of the spectators, who expected me to slog. I was third last man in, so I didn’t have to endure long, and as Mynn himself was at t’other end, knocking off the runs, my behaviour was perfectly proper. We won by two wickets, Flashy not out, nil – and next morning, after breakfast, there was a plain packet addressed to me, with three hundred in bills inside.

      I near as a toucher sealed it up again and told the footman to give it back to whoever had brought it – but I didn’t. Warm work – but three hundred is three hundred – and it was a gift, wasn’t it? I could always deny I’d ever seen it – G-d, I was an innocent then, for all my campaign experience.

      This, of course, took place at the house which Haslam had taken just outside Canterbury, very splendid, gravel walks, fine lawns, shrubbery and trees, gaslight throughout, beautifully appointed rooms, best of food and drink, flunkeys everywhere, and go-as-you-please. There were about a dozen house guests, for it was a great rambling place, and Haslam had seen to every comfort. He gave a sumptuous party on that first Monday night, at which Mynn and Felix were present, and the talk was all cricket, of course, but there were any number of ladies, too, including Mrs Leo Lade, smouldering at me across the table from under a heap of sausage curls, and in a dress so décolleté that her udders were almost in her soup. That’s one over we’ll bowl this week that won’t be a maiden, thinks I, and flashed my most loving smile to Elspeth, who was sparkling radiantly beside Don Solomon at the top of the table.

      Presently, however, her sparkle was wiped clean away, for Don Solomon was understood to say that this week would be his last fling in England; he was leaving at the end of the month to visit his estates in the East, and had no notion when he would return; it might be years, he said, at which there were genuine expressions of sorrow round the table, for those assembled knew a dripping roast when they saw one. Without the lavish Don Solomon, there would be one luxurious establishment less for the Society hyenas to guzzle at. Elspeth was quite put out.

      ‘But dear Don Solomon, what shall we do? Oh, you’re teasing – why, your tiresome estates will do admirably without you, for I’m sure you employ only the cleverest people to look after them.’ She pouted prettily. ‘You would not be so cruel to your friends, surely – Mrs Lade, we shan’t let him, shall we?’

      Solomon laughed and patted her hand. ‘My dear Diana,’ says he – Diana had been his nickname for her ever since he’d tried to teach her archery – ‘you may be sure nothing but harsh necessity would take me from such delightful company as your own – and Harry’s yonder, and all of you. But – a man must work, and my work is overseas. So—’ and he shook his head, his smooth, handsome face smiling ruefully. ‘It will be a sore wrench – sorest of all in that I shall miss both of you’ – and he looked from Elspeth to me and back again – ‘above all the rest, for you have been to me like a brother and sister.’ And, d---e, the fellow’s great dark eyes were positively glistening; the rest of the table murmured sympathetically, all but old Morrison, who was champing away at his blancmange and finding bones in it, by the sound of him.

      At this Elspeth was so overcome that she began piping her eye, and her tits shook so violently that the old Duke, on Solomon’s other side, coughed his false teeth into his wine-glass and had to be put to rights by the butler. Solomon, for once, was looking a little embarrassed; he shrugged and gave me a look that was almost appealing. ‘I’m sorry, old boy,’ says he, ‘but I mean it.’ I couldn’t fathom this – he might be sorry to miss Elspeth; what man wouldn’t? But had I been so friendly? – well, I’d been civil enough, and I was her husband; perhaps that charming manner of mine which Tom Hughes mentioned had had its effect on this emotional dago. Anyway, something seemed called for.

      ‘Well, Don,’ says I, ‘we’ll all be sorry to lose you, and that’s a fact. You’re a d----d stout chap – that is, I mean, you’re one of the best, and couldn’t be better if … if you were English.’ I wasn’t going to gush all over him, you understand, but the company murmured ‘Hear, hear,’ and after a moment Mynn tapped the table to second me. ‘Well,’ says I, ‘let’s drink his health, then.’ And everyone did, while Solomon gave me his bland smile, inclining his head.

      ‘I know,’ says he, ‘just how great a compliment that is. I thank you – all of you, and especially you, my dear Harry. I only wish—’ and then he stopped, shaking his head. ‘But no, that would be too much to ask.’

      ‘Oh, ask anything, Don!’ cries Elspeth, all idiot-imploring. ‘You know we could not refuse you!’

      He said no, no, it had been a foolish thought, and at that of course she was all over him to know what it was. So after a moment, toying with his wine-glass, he says: ‘Well, you’ll think it a very silly notion, I daresay – but what I was about to propose, my dear Diana, for Harry and yourself, and for your father, whom I count among my wisest friends—’ and he inclined his head to old Morrison, who was assuring Mrs Lade that he didn’t want any blancmange, but he’d like anither helpin’ o’ yon cornflour puddin’ ‘—I was about to say, since I must go – why do the three of you not come with me?’ And he smiled shyly at us in turn.

      I stared at the fellow to see if he was joking; Elspeth, all blonde bewilderment, looked at me and then at Solomon, open-mouthed.

      ‘Come with you?’

      ‘It’s only to the other side of the world, after all,’ says he, whimsically. ‘No, no – I am quite serious; it is not as bad as that. You know me well enough to understand that I wouldn’t propose anything that you would not find delightful. We should cruise, in my steam-brig – it’s as well-appointed as any royal yacht, you know, and we’d have the most splendid holiday. We would touch wherever we liked – Lisbon, Cadiz, the Cape, Bombay, Madras – exactly as the fancy took us. Oh, it would be quite capital!’ He leaned towards Elspeth, smiling. ‘Think of the places we’d see! The delight it would give me, Diana, to show you the wonder of Africa, as one sees it at dawn from the quarterdeck – such colours as you cannot imagine! The shores of the Indian Ocean – yes, the coral strand! Ah, believe me, until you have anchored off Singapore, or cruised the tropical coasts of Sumatra and Java and Borneo, and seen that glorious China Sea, where it is always morning – oh, my dear, you have seen nothing!’

      Nonsense, of course; the Orient stinks. Always did. But Elspeth was gazing at him in rapture, and then she turned eagerly to me. ‘Oh, Harry – could we?’

      ‘Out o’ the question,’ says I. ‘It’s the back of beyond.’

      ‘In these days?’ cries Solomon. ‘Why, with steam you may be in Singapore in – oh, three months at most. Say, three months as my guests while we visit my estates – and you would learn, Diana, what it means to be a queen in the Orient, I assure you – and three months to return. You’d be home again by next Easter.’

      ‘Oh, Harry!’ Elspeth was positively squeaking with joy. ‘Oh, Harry – may we? Oh, please, Harry!’ The chaps at the table were nodding admiringly, and the ladies murmuring enviously; the old Duke was heard to say that it was an adventure, d----d if it wasn’t, and if he was a younger man, by George, wouldn’t he jump at the chance?

СКАЧАТЬ