A Strange Likeness. Paula Marshall

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СКАЧАТЬ the yard below: he was her frequent companion in naughtiness. ‘Nat! Nat! Did you get it?’

      ‘Yes, Miss Eleanor, you can see it later…’

      ‘No, I want to see it now. Wait there. I’ll be down presently.’

      She shot down the stairs even faster than she had mounted them and ran through a side door into the yard, where she found Nat cuddling an animal which was squirming beneath his jacket.

      Nat Swain was a stocky youth from a family which had worked for the Hattons for generations. Although he was three years older than Eleanor he was not much taller than she was, but he was broad and strong, the perfect shape for a stable lad. He, Ned, Stacy and Eleanor had birds-nested and played together as children, and until recently the four of them had been companions and apparent equals.

      But then Ned and Stacy had left for Oxford and the wider world outside to which Nat had no access. Ned, nearly four years older than Eleanor, was now a young man about town, and Stacy, almost the same age, was growing up fast, too.

      Eleanor, once the two boys had gone, had been forbidden the stables and Nat’s companionship by both her grandfather, who was also her guardian, and her good-natured but ineffectual mother. She had responded by apparently agreeing with them—and then doing exactly as she pleased when no one was about. Sir Hart’s warning that her friendship with Nat must be a thing of the past went unheeded.

      Nat showed her his prize: a ferret. Eleanor exclaimed delightedly over it and was impatient to see it running free.

      ‘No, Miss Eleanor, it’s not safe; it moves so quick we might lose it.’

      ‘Well, then, at least allow me to hold it.’

      Nat looked doubtfully at her. He was well aware that Miss Eleanor was, as Ned, young for her age and that he was not. He had already pleasured one of the village girls out on the moors which surrounded the great house, and had pretended that it was Miss Eleanor in his arms, that grey eyes were really deep blue ones and russet hair was black.

      He knew that to desire Miss Eleanor was crying for the moon, but there were times when his longing for her grew unbearable. He also knew that Sir Hart—as everyone called him—had forbidden them to associate with one another once Ned and Stacy had left, and that their recent return had not lifted his prohibition. If Miss Eleanor continued to ignore it, though, then so would he.

      Unable to refuse her anything, he handed the wriggling creature over to her. Eleanor, ignoring her fine clothing and recent toilette, cuddled the feral thing, exclaiming over it until she almost drove Nat mad with desire for her, thus justifying all Sir Hart’s prohibitions.

      She petted and stroked the little creature, holding it up so that it hung slack from her hands, but her raptures were cut short when the impudent beast bit her finger. With a sharp cry she relaxed her grip. It leapt out of her arms and, before she and Nat could recapture it, the little animal scuttled away in the direction of the house.

      Nat’s desire for Eleanor was replaced by an even greater desire to catch the ferret before he could be in trouble for involving Eleanor in this escapade!

      Alas, it was more nimble than they were. Scurrying and flowing along, it turned the corner of the house, found the tall glass doors opening on to the Elizabethan knot garden and ran through the drawing room, where Eleanor’s mama was entertaining the Lorimers, the Harshaws and other gentry of the district to tea.

      Feminine screams bore witness that the arrival of the ferret had devastated the party.

      In the middle of the noise Eleanor’s mama appeared at the doors to face her daughter and Nat, who were both transfixed by the enormity of a prank which had gone sadly wrong.

      ‘Run, Nat, run,’ Eleanor had said, once the outcry had begun. ‘It was my fault, not yours.’

      Too late! Even as he turned her mama said, in a voice severe for her, ‘Miss Hatton, did you release that animal? Shame on you. Is that Nat Swain with you?’

      ‘Yes, but it was my fault, Mama, not his. It was an accident. I did not mean to upset the tea party. I am sorry.’

      ‘Sorry! Yes, you should be sorry, Miss Hatton. Swain, you had better come and rescue the tea party by taking the animal away. Sir Hartley must be informed of your misbehaviour once you have removed it. Having done so you will report immediately to him. And you, Miss Hatton, will go to your room at once. At once, I say.’

      Her mother was rarely firm, but today she showed no signs of relenting.

      Obedient for once, Eleanor, her head hanging, walked to the stairs, where she met Ned and Stacy attracted by the uproar.

      ‘Well, you’ve really done it this time, little sister,’ said Ned, grinning.

      Stacy, just behind him, was more serious. ‘Oh, Eleanor, you’ve got poor Nat into trouble again! You know what Sir Hart said last time.’

      ‘Oh, Stacy, don’t preach,’ exclaimed Eleanor sharply. ‘It wasn’t deliberate. It was an accident.’

      ‘Which will cost Nat a thrashing,’ returned Stacy bluntly. ‘It will cost you, as well. Sir Hart won’t be best pleased. You’re not fair to Nat, you know.’

      He was not referring to the prank, but Eleanor was too immature to grasp his real meaning—that she was a temptation to him.

      ‘Oh, Nat’ll take it in his stride,’ said Ned carelessly, nearly as blind as Eleanor. ‘Best you go to your own room, Nell. Mama was really in a taking this time.’

      It was nearly an hour before her mother’s maid came knocking on her bedroom door to tell her that her grandfather wished to see her in his study. By then Eleanor had begun to regret her recent rash behaviour and the tears were not far away.

      She made her way slowly downstairs, through the long picture gallery and past the giant Gainsborough portrait of Sir Hart’s father, Sir Beauchamp. Sir Beauchamp always frightened Eleanor: he was so cold, so stern and so handsome. It was strange that Sir Hart resembled him so much in appearance but was so different in his kind goodness from his redoubtable and severe father.

      Sir Hart’s goodness was legendary; Sir Beauchamp’s ruthless will was equally so. Even in the days when Sir Hart had been a member of Lord Liverpool’s government his virtue had been a byword. It made it difficult to oppose him.

      What was remarkable was that Sir Hart had always stuck to his principles first in his difficult youth, under Sir Beauchamp, and then with his equally difficult problems with his two worthless sons, one of whom had been Eleanor’s father. Both of them had died young as a consequence of their dissolute lives.

      It must be hard, thought Eleanor, to have had someone like Papa to contend with. And for the first time she felt guilt at her own thoughtless conduct. She wondered how Sir Beauchamp would have dealt with her.

      Her great-aunt Almeria, Sir Beauchamp’s only daughter, had said once to Eleanor’s mama that he had never suffered nonsense from anyone. She had added that he’d had the coldest heart she had ever encountered. Eleanor thought that her great-aunt resembled Sir Beauchamp—but was a little kinder.

      By the time she had reached Sir Hart’s study door Eleanor was in a mood which was new to her. Seeing Sir Beauchamp as though for the first time had set her thinking of how unsatisfactory Ned was. СКАЧАТЬ