Дэвид Лоуренс - Lady Chatterley's Lover [С англо-русским словарем]

And in this Mrs Bolton triumphed. “How he’s getting on!” she would say to herself in pride. “And that’s my doing! My word, he’d never have got on like this with Lady Chatterley. She was not the one to put a man forward. She wanted too much for herself.”

At the same time, in some corner of her weird female soul, how she despised him and hated him! He was to her the fallen beast, the squirming monster. And while she aided and abetted him all she could, away in the remotest corner of her ancient healthy womanhood she despised him with a savage contempt that knew no bounds. The merest tramp was better than he.

His behaviour with regard to Connie was curious. He insisted on seeing her again. He insisted, moreover, on her coming to Wragby. On this point he was finally and absolutely fixed. Connie had promised to come back to Wragby, faithfully.

“But is it any use?” said Mrs Bolton. “Can’t you let her go, and be rid of her?”

“No! She said she was coming back, and she’s got to come.”

Mrs Bolton opposed him no more. She knew what she was dealing with.

I needn’t tell you what effect your letter has had on me [he wrote to Connie to London]. Perhaps you can imagine it if you try, though no doubt you won’t trouble to use your imagination on my behalf.

I can only say one thing in answer: I must see you personally, here at Wragby, before I can do anything. You promised faithfully to come back to Wragby, and I hold you to the promise. I don’t believe anything nor understand anything until I see you personally, here under normal circumstances. I needn’t tell you that nobody here suspects anything, so your return would be quite normal. Then if you feel, after we have talked things over, that you still remain in the same mind, no doubt we can come to terms.

Connie showed this letter to Mellors.

“He wants to begin his revenge on you,” he said, handing the letter back.

Connie was silent. She was somewhat surprised to find that she was afraid of Clifford. She was afraid to go near him. She was afraid of him as if he were evil and dangerous.

“What shall I do?” she said.

“Nothing, if you don’t want to do anything.”

She replied, trying to put Clifford off. He answered:

If you don’t come back to Wragby now, I shall consider that you are coming back one day, and act accordingly. I shall just go on the same, and wait for you here, if I wait for fifty years.

She was frightened. This was bullying of an insidious sort. She had no doubt he meant what he said. He would not divorce her, and the child would be his, unless she could find some means of establishing its illegitimacy.

After a time of worry and harassment, she decided to go to Wragby. Hilda would go with her. She wrote this to Clifford. He replied:

I shall not welcome your sister, but I shall not deny her the door. I have no doubt she has connived at your desertion of your duties and responsibilities, so do not expect me to show pleasure in seeing her.

They went to Wragby. Clifford was away when they arrived. Mrs Bolton received them.

“Oh, your Ladyship, it isn’t the happy home-coming we hoped for, is it!” she said.

“Isn’t it?” said Connie.

So this woman knew! How much did the rest of the servants know or suspect?

She entered the house, which now she hated with every fibre in her body. The great, rambling mass of a place seemed evil to her, just a menace over her. She was no longer its mistress, she was its victim.

“I can’t stay long here,” she whispered to Hilda, terrified.

And she suffered going into her own bedroom, re-entering into possession as if nothing had happened. She hated every minute inside the Wragby walls.

They did not meet Clifford till they went down to dinner. He was dressed, and with a black tie: rather reserved, and very much the superior gentleman. He behaved perfectly politely during the meal and kept a polite sort of conversation going: but it seemed all touched with insanity.

“How much do the servants know?” asked Connie, when the woman was out of the room.

“Of your intentions? Nothing whatsoever.”

“Mrs Bolton knows.”

He changed colour.

“Mrs Bolton is not exactly one of the servants,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

There was tension till after coffee, when Hilda said she would go up to her room.

Clifford and Connie sat in silence when she had gone. Neither would begin to speak. Connie was so glad that he wasn’t taking the pathetic line, she kept him up to as much haughtiness as possible. She just sat silent and looked down at her hands.

“I suppose you don’t at all mind having gone back on your word?” he said at last.

“I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“But if you can’t, who can?”

“I suppose nobody.”

He looked at her with curious cold rage. He was used to her. She was as it were embedded in his will. How dared she now go back on him, and destroy the fabric of his daily existence? How dared she try to cause this derangement of his personality?

“And for what do you want to go back on everything?” he insisted.

“Love!” she said. It was best to be hackneyed.

“Love of Duncan Forbes? But you didn’t think that worth having, when you met me. Do you mean to say you now love him better than anything else in life?”

“One changes,” she said.

“Possibly! Possibly you may have whims. But you still have to convince me of the importance of the change. I merely don’t believe in your love of Duncan Forbes.”

“But why should you believe in it? You have only to divorce me, not to believe in my feelings.”

“And why should I divorce you?”

“Because I don’t want to live here any more. And you really don’t want me.”

“Pardon me! I don’t change. For my part, since you are my wife, I should prefer that you should stay under my roof in dignity and quiet. Leaving aside personal feelings, and I assure you, on my part it is leaving aside a great deal, it is bitter as death to me to have this order of life broken up, here in Wragby, and the decent round of daily life smashed, just for some whim of yours.”

After a time of silence she said:

“I can’t help it. I’ve got to go. I expect I shall have a child.”

He too was silent for a time.

“And is it for the child’s sake you must go?” he asked at length.

She nodded.

“And why? Is Duncan Forbes so keen on his spawn?”

“Surely keener than you would be,” she said.

“But really? I want my wife, and I see no reason for letting her go. If she likes to bear a child under my roof, she is welcome, and the child is welcome: provided that the decency and order of life is preserved. Do you mean to tell me that Duncan Forbes has a greater hold over you? I don’t believe it.”

There was a pause.

“But don’t you see,” said Connie. “I must go away from you, and I must live with the man I love.”

“No, I don’t see it! I don’t give tuppence for your love, nor for the man you love. I don’t believe in that sort of cant.”

“But you see, I do.”

“Do you? My dear Madam, you are too intelligent, I assure you, to believe in your own love for Duncan Forbes. Believe me, even now you really care more for me. So why should I give in to such nonsense!”

She felt he was right there. And she felt she could keep silent no longer.

“Because it isn’t Duncan that I do love,” she said, looking up at him.

“We only said it was Duncan, to spare your feelings.”

“To spare my feelings?”

“Yes! Because who I really love, and it’ll make you hate me, is Mr Mellors, who was our game-keeper here.”