"Christopher Priest - I, Haruspex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Priest Christopher)

I, Haruspex
Christopher Priest
The morning of that January day was icy cold with bright but slanting sunlight, the blue sky
lending an electric radiance to the hoar frost that lay sharply on the grass and shrubs of
the Abbey grounds. Earlier I had taken a brief walk across the Long Lawn, but the
pre-dawn chill had driven me indoors again after a few minutes. Now I waited in the
draughty main entrance hall of the Abbey, behind the closed double doors, listening for
the sound of tyres on the gravel drive outside.
The car sent by the solicitor arrived punctually, only a few seconds after the clock in
the stairwell had finished chiming nine oтАЩclock. I snatched the doors open as soon as I
heard the car come to a halt. The frozen air swirled in and around me.
The simple formality began.
The chauffeur climbed out of the driverтАЩs seat, lowering his head to one side to avoid
dislodging his cap, then straightened his full-buttoned jacket with a jerking motion at the
hem. He stood erect. Without looking in my direction he walked smartly to the rear
compartment of the car, and held the door open. He stared into the distance. Miss Wilkins
stepped down: a brief vision of silken stockings, a tight black skirt, glossy shoes,
mousquetaire gloves, a discreet hat with a wide brim and a veil. She was clutching the
small, box-shaped parcel I was expecting.
As she climbed the double flight of steps towards the main door the chauffeur
followed. He stood protectively behind her as she confronted me. As usual she did not
look directly at me but held out the package for me to take. She was looking down at the
steps, a parody of demureness. Intoxicating waves of her civet-based perfume drifted
across to me, and I could not suppress a relishing sniff.
I took the package from her, and also the release form that required my signature, but
now I had the parcel in my hands I was no longer in any hurry. I shook the package beside
my ear, listening to the satisfying, provocative sound of the hard little pellets rattling
around inside. All that potential locked within! I stared directly at Miss Wilkins, challenging
her to look back at me, but her expression remained frightened and evasive. She could
not leave without my signature on the release, so naturally I made her wait. I like to see
fear in another personтАЩs face, and in spite of her seeming composure, and her deliberate
avoidance of my gaze, Miss Wilkins could hide her apprehension no better than she could
conceal her youthful allure. She was trembling, a hint of convulsive movement that induced
a terrible bodily craving in me. As usual, she had gone to manifest efforts to make herself
unattractive to me. The jacket and skirt of her suit, made of heavy, businesslike serge,
and of forbidding stiffness, for me only served to emphasize the hint of feminine ripeness
that lay beneath. The delay I was causing interested me, the fear in the young woman
stimulated me, and her scents were all but irresistible.
I said softly, тАЬWill you enter my house, Miss Wilkins?тАЭ
Beneath the veil, her steadfast gaze at the ground was briefly interrupted; I saw her
long lashes flicker.
тАЬI dare not,тАЭ she said, in a whisper.
тАЬThenтАФтАЭ
The moment was interrupted by the chauffeur, who shifted his weight in an impatient,
threatening manner.
тАЬPlease just sign the receipt, Mr Owsley,тАЭ he said.
I did not mind him intervening, although I resented the sense of intimidation. He had
his job to do; I expected only that he should do it civilly. I gave the young woman an
appreciative smile for bringing me my pellets, hoping to excite another response, perhaps
even a glimpse of her eyes, but during the many brief visits she had made in the last few