Виктория Холт - Beyond the blue Mountains

The door slammed. The woman sat back, studying Kitty, and Kitty studied her.

She had thrown back the hood of her cape and disclosed dark, rather frizzy hair; her brows were dusky, her dark eyes large yet alert. Kitty felt them taking in every detail of her appearance. She wondered if she were a servant of her Aunt Harriet's; her manner was a little arrogant, hardly that of a servant.

The carriage rolled out of the yard.

"Do tell me your name," said Kitty.

"Jennifer Jay.”

"And my aunt...”

"I have come to meet you on Squire Haredon's behalf." She stopped, watching the colour flood into the girl's face.

"But," stammered Kitty, 'why? I was going to my Aunt Harriet...”

"So you are. But Squire Haredon thought it would be helpful ... to your aunt... to send his carriage.”

"I see. He is very friendly with my aunt?”

A scornful smile twisted the woman's mouth.

"He has known her for a number of years." Jennifer leaned forward.

"I expect you are very like your mother.”

"I am supposed to be. You knew my mother?”

"Hardly! She left this place years ago, did she not? I am twenty-one.

Besides, I did not live here as a child.”

"It was good of Squire Haredon to send his carriage.”

"He is a generous man... at times," said Jennifer.

Yes, she was thinking, why had he gone to all this trouble for Harriet Ramsdale? She wanted to marry him, the sly old virgin! And she thought no one knew it. She, Jennifer, knew it; even those half-witted sluts, who worked for her, knew it. The squire knew it; there were times when she could almost get him to laugh with her over it. There were times when it was possible to get almost anything out of the squire. But he was hot tempered; the last time she had mentioned Harriet's name he had shut her up roughly; she had thought he was going to strike her. It wouldn't have been the first time, brute that he was, Like a great bull sometimes, rushing at you angrily ... and then getting amorous. A smile lifted the side of her mouth.

And now this niece. Disdainful beauty! He would surely be impressed, but he wasn't the sort to press where he wasn't wanted. And who was the young man with the girl when she had got out of the coach, looking at her with those dove's eyes? This was going to be exciting, if a little dangerous.

It might be a good idea to find out all she could. Knowledge usually came in useful. She had a sharp tongue it was one of the things which amused the squire. It was an easy matter to get into his bed; any kitchenmaid could do that; the art lay in staying there.

"You had a pleasant journey?" she asked conversationally.

"Good companions?”

"Very.”

"I thought one of the young men who got out of the coach looked as if he might be a charming travelling companion." How easy it was to make her blush.

Did you?”

"Yes. I thought he had specially friendly glances for you.”

"I think," said Kitty slowly, 'that you must be referring to Mt. Grey.

His uncle, he was telling us, lives in Exeter.”

"Mr. Grey ... I do not know him. You see, I came here only four years ago. I don't know Mr. Grey, but as I said, he is a personable young man and, I should think, a pleasant travelling companion.”

She would garnish the story of this journey she would tell the squire with a description of the flushing young woman who had perhaps been a little indiscreet with a handsome Mr. Grey. She could always make Haredon laugh, and when she made him laugh she was the mistress of the situation ... always. She even thought at such times that he really was imagining her at his table, entertaining his guests; after all, it would soon be forgotten that she had come to his house as governess to his children and had been his mistress before she became Ms wife.

Kitty said quickly, to turn the conversation from Darrell: "And you... you are a friend of Squire Haredon's?”

Jennifer's head tilted proudly.

"I am in charge of his children.”

"That must be interesting. Tell me about the children.”

"There are two of them. Margaret is nearly two years old; Charles is five.”

Kitty smiled encouragingly. It was more pleasant to think of the squire as a family man.

"I am fond of children; and you must be too. since you have chosen the task of taking care of them.”

"I did not choose it it was thrust upon me. I was at a school for young ladies when my father died suddenly. It was a shock to me to learn that I was penniless. There was nothing to do but earn my living it had not been intended that I should so I acquired this post!

Margaret was not born then." Her eyes were sly, Kitty thought, and wondered what made them so. Jennifer was thinking of her arrival at Haredon, and of the interest she had aroused in the squire right from the beginning; hotly pursuing in those days; quite gallant; now he blew hot and cold. She had been sorry for poor Amelia, but that had not stopped her from thinking of Amelia's husband. Amusing! Great fun. keeping him at bay! He could be so angry when frustrated; he had no finesse, the great bull! But when Amelia had died that had seemed like fate. Good God, she needed luck. He would marry again. Weakly, but with an element of cunning, she gave in to him; she had thought that was the way. Perhaps it was; she wasn't sure. She had that in her which could enslave a man ... up to a point. She looked at the girl opposite with faint contempt. She was too sure of her beauty, that girl, to think of much else, and beauty was not all-sufficient; wit came into it; the power to make a man laugh, to find the vulnerable spot. Cleverness was every bit as important as beauty. When she thought of that she was stimulated.

"Oh..." said Kitty, 'the squire's wife...”

"She is dead.”

Now why did her eyes cloud suddenly like that, as though she were sorry Amelia had died? Soft, this girl! But those eyes, that skin and that mouth, He must be interested, if only momentarily. I "It was after the birth of Margaret; she went to be churched. It was in November, and November can be a damp, unhealthy month in this part of the world.”

"Poor lady!" said Kitty.

"And poor little children!”

"They are well looked after," said Jennifer almost tartly, and then the secret smile twisted her lips. And so is the squire, she said to herself. I "You know my aunt?" asked Kitty.

Jennifer tossed her head.

"I have not visited her," she said with scorn.

"A governess does not visit the gentry.”

The carriage rolled on. Kitty closed her eyes: she was not looking at the immediate future; she was looking beyond, to marriage with Darrell.

"You are doubtless tired," said Jennifer.

"Close your eyes and doze a little.”

Kitty smiled and kept her eyes closed: it removed the necessity of talking to Jennifer, for which she was rather pleased. There was something about the little woman, strange and unfathomable, that was almost anger, and Kitty never had any real desire to fathom. She thought of Darrell, of the fine down on his cheeks and the sudden hard pressure of his mouth on hers.

Harriet heard the carriage draw up, and went out to receive her niece.

She gasped at the sight of Kitty. A young woman, a sophisticated London young woman with clothes that were much too fine for the country, who appeared so startlingly like Bess that she felt the resentment she had always felt towards her pretty sister surging up in her. And with her, that creature from Haredon, looking demure enough in her sober cape; but whenever Harriet saw her she could not shut out of her mind the stories she had heard; imagination could be a mocking enemy ill forced pictures into your mind, and though you tried to ignore them and make your mind a blank, the pictures remained.

Kitty stepped out of the carriage, and the coachman brought in her baggage.