Esmeralda. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ her, and the journey passed quickly enough, although she thought secretly that he drove a good deal too fast, and felt relieved when they turned off the A35 on to the open road which would lead them to Burley. It was still light, but the sky had paled and the road ribboned between rolling heath and patches of forest, fading into twilight ahead.

      ‘There are ponies,’ she warned him. ‘They roam everywhere.’

      ‘I know that,’ he began impatiently, and then gave an apologetic laugh. ‘Sorry, I must be getting tired—that was quite a list we had this morning.’

      Esmeralda was instantly sympathetic. ‘And Mr Peters goes like the wind, doesn’t he?’

      Leslie grunted. ‘That Dutchman was there—scrubbed too…showing off…’

      She heard the malice in his voice. ‘You don’t like him.’ She started and realized at that moment that she did.

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. He’s so damned sure of himself, though, just because he’s perfected a method of correcting crushed bones—why, anyone could do that.’

      ‘Then why haven’t they?’ she demanded sharply, ‘And that’s a beastly thing to say, for he’s not here to defend himself.’

      Leslie pulled the car savagely round the next bend and had to brake hard to avoid a pony in the middle of the road. He said grudgingly: ‘Sorry again, I told you I was tired—perhaps I shouldn’t have suggested bringing you.’

      She protested warmly at that. ‘And if you’re tired, a day at home will be just the thing,’ she assured him. ‘Mother loves having people to visit her and Nanny will spoil you.’

      But Nanny did no such thing. Esmeralda, getting ready for bed in her own pretty room, looked back on the evening with mixed feelings. Her mother had been delighted to see her; she always was, for they were devoted to each other, and she had welcomed Leslie with gracious friendliness. They had gone into the low-ceilinged sitting room, with its oak beams and beautiful furniture, and had drinks and Leslie had looked about him and made just the right remarks about everything. He had been impressed, and that had pleased her; she loved her home, and his low whistle of involuntary admiration and surprise as they had approached the house had delighted her, for it was indeed beautiful—not large, but perfect of its kind and set in charming grounds of some size, and he had been just as impressed when they went inside.

      It was Nanny who had come to take him to his room. She had entered the sitting room, a round, old-fashioned, cosy woman, no longer so young; submitted to Esmeralda’s affectionate hugs with obvious pleasure and had then said her how do you do’s very correctly, her sharp brown eyes taking in every inch of the young man as she led him away.

      It had been an hour later, while they had been waiting for her mother in the drawing room, that Leslie had commented, half laughing: ‘Your Nanny doesn’t like me, I fancy.’

      Esmeralda had told him that Nanny quite often didn’t like people when she first met them, which was fairly true but a little disturbing, for she had wanted everyone to like him. She frowned as she got into the little fourposter bed she had slept in all her life; she wasn’t quite sure about her mother either. Her parent had been just as she always was, a delightful hostess, a pretty, middle-aged woman, thoughtful for her guest, prepared to entertain and be entertained, and yet there had been something… Esmeralda rearranged her pillows and frowned heavily in the dark.

      It had been a pity that Leslie had made that remark about the silver in the display cabinet—lovely old stuff, worth a fortune, he had said, and although Esmeralda had seen no change in her mother’s expression, she knew quite well that that lady was displeased, and he had made it worse by asking how many servants there were and if the house cost a lot to run. Her mother had answered him lightly without telling him anything at all, and turned the conversation with practised ease to himself and his work. He had made no secret of his ambition, and Esmeralda, defending him, saw nothing wrong in that—young surgeons who wanted to get on early in life, needed ambition to keep them going—only he had rather harped upon money, and she, fortunate to have been brought up in a home where money had been plentiful, and taught from her youth to be glad of it but never to boast of its possession, didn’t quite understand his preoccupation with it. Her father, when he had been alive, had pointed out to her that having money, while pleasant, was by no means necessary for happiness. Leslie seemed to think that it was. She went to sleep thinking about it and woke in the morning with the thought still uppermost in her mind.

      It was a gorgeous morning again. Esmeralda dragged on her dressing gown, stuck her feet into slippers and went along to her mother’s room with the intention of sharing morning tea, a little habit they had formed after her father’s death. Once curled up on the foot of her mother’s bed, sipping her tea, Esmeralda plunged into the subject uppermost in her mind.

      ‘Do you like Leslie, Mother?’ She leaned across and took a biscuit.

      Her parent eyed her fondly. ‘He’s a very attractive man, darling, and I’m sure he’s clever—he should go far in his profession. Is he sweet on you?’

      ‘Mother, how old-fashioned that sounds! I don’t know—would you mind if he were?’ She didn’t give Mrs Jones time to reply but went on eagerly: ‘You see, he doesn’t mind about my foot, and if I had it put right…’

      ‘Yes, dear, we must have a little talk about that—there wasn’t much opportunity last night, was there? You’ve decided to have something done?’

      ‘Do you think I should? It was all rather unexpected and I don’t want to be rushed into anything—only this Mr Bamstra…’

      ‘Such a nice man,’ interpolated her mother unexpectedly.

      ‘Mother, you don’t know him? How could you—you’ve never met.’ Esmeralda turned bewildered green eyes on her mother’s unconcerned face.

      ‘I met him on Thursday; he came to see me about you—to explain about…no, dear, don’t interrupt. I think it was very nice of him. Not every mother likes the idea of her daughter going off to another country, even if it is for an operation by an eminent surgeon.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Pass your cup, love.’

      She poured more tea while her daughter held her impatience in check. ‘I like him,’ said Mrs Jones at length, ‘and so did Nanny; she gave him some of her cowslip wine, and you know what that means—what’s more, he drank it like a man and complimented her on it in a nice sincere way, nothing fulsome.’ She popped a lump of sugar into her mouth and crunched it. ‘Nanny says he’s Mr Right.’

      ‘Mother!’ exploded Esmeralda. ‘He’s years older—at least, I suppose he is—he must be married and have a horde of children. Besides, there’s Leslie.’

      ‘Yes, dear, that’s what I told Nanny just now when she brought me my tea. What would you both like to do today? You don’t need to go back to Trent’s until tomorrow evening, do you?’ She passed the rest of the biscuits to her daughter. ‘What does Leslie think of this operation?’

      ‘He isn’t very keen—well, he wasn’t at first. He doesn’t like Mr Bamstra, although yesterday he said it might be a good idea…’

      ‘A doctor’s wife—a successful doctor’s wife—would have a certain number of social duties,’ mused her astute parent, ‘naturally, it would be very much to your—and his—advantage if you had two pretty feet.’ She paused. ‘Do I sound heartless and flippant, darling? You know I’m not—if I could ever have СКАЧАТЬ