"Warrington, Freda - A Taste of Blood Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

"I surely hope you haven't a hangover," said Anne, "because it's a perfect morning to go riding."
Charlotte felt a delicious sense of relief at escaping the dream; and then the memories of the previous day flowed back, a multicoloured patchwork of disasters. Yes, it would be good to avoid the ordeal of breakfast; having to listen to her family dissecting the party, having to be polite to the house guestsЕ having to see Karl, or think about Henry. One good thing had come out of the party; her deepening friendship with Anne, which held her steady like a talisman against her fears.
***
The park slanted before them, shining with watered-gold sunlight and silver-green shadow. They moved beneath the rustling branches of copper beeches and ash trees; Charlotte on a chestnut mare, Anne on a headstrong bay hunter. Birds broke upwards through the leaves as they passed; showers of birds, wheeling all together in a wave.
Tonight I shall have to go back to Cambridge with Father; tomorrow, I shall have to face Henry. Now the laboratory will no longer be my refuge but a cage with two lions loose in itЕ Still, for now, nothing can touch me.
"I can't wait to get home," said Anne, turning in the saddle to look at her. "I miss my horses desperately."
Charlotte smiled. "I suppose Elizabeth's horses aren't quite the same."
"Of course not. I still couldn't bear to go a day without riding. I came out with an ulterior motive, though; I want to go and look at the manor house. It will be ages before it's ready for David and me to move in. I don't think they've even started work on it yet, but I want a good look round without Elizabeth and half a dozen others talking my head off."
"Wouldn't you rather have come with David?"
Green-speckled tunnels of woodland drew them in. The horses' hooves thudded softly on the earth. "Well, it would have been nice if he'd come with us," Anne replied. "But the Prof asked him to take Karl on a tour of the estate."
"OhЧto keep Karl away from Edward?"
"And away from Madeleine, I think. I gather your father's none too pleased at the way she was flirting with him last night."
Charlotte sighed. "That doesn't surprise me. But it's only a gesture. If Maddy wants something, I don't think it's in Father's power to stop her."
"What did you make of Karl, now that you've met him properly?" Anne said, teasing her. "Didn't you find him attractive?"
"I don't want anything to do with him!" Charlotte said vehemently.
Anne seemed taken aback by her reaction. Then she said thoughtfully, "Too attractive, perhaps. You're right, I wouldn't trust him, either."
"I wish Maddy had never met him. What was he doing at Fleur's party, anyway? I can't think what possessed FatherЕ " she trailed off. "Oh, what's the point?"
"The point is, Charli, there's no sense in upsetting yourself about Karl. Just keep reminding yourself, he's only a human being. He might be quite nice, when you get to know him."
"You're right." Charlotte tried to shake off her unease. "I don't know why I'm such an idiot about these things."
"That's better. You may have to get used to the idea of Karl being your brother-in-law. As your father seems to like him so much, I can't imagine he'll object for long to Maddy seeing him. But I have this feelingЕ "
"What?"
"Men like Karl can be very charming, but they leave trails of broken hearts behind them. I'm afraid he might hurt Madeleine."
"He'd better not!" Charlotte said fiercely. "I should kill him!"
A mile along the woodland path they came in sight of the manor house. It rose stern and grey through a clearing in the trees, shouldering up through a covering of ivy and moss. Brambles massed around its flanks, spilling into drifts of cow parsley and willow herb. Charlotte and Anne halted the horses and looked up at its stone walls and leaded windows.
"Pretty grim, isn't it?" said Anne. "At least they've cleared the path. It looks as if they're making a start."
There was scaffolding piled up by the front door, lengths of pipe and piles of brick left ready by the estate workmen. Anne and Charlotte dismounted and tethered the horses, then walked up four steps to the iron-clad front door. It was unlocked. It swung open to Anne's touch and an exhalation of damp and dust sighed out to meet them.
"It's years since I last came here," said Charlotte, remembering childhood days.
They stepped into the hall. The flags echoed under the heels of their riding boots. "You know this place, then?"
"Oh, yes. When we came to stay with Aunt Lizzie, when my sisters were home from school, we often came to play up here."
"Weren't you frightened?" Anne shivered.
"Not really. I always liked it. Strange, isn't it? It must have been the only time Fleur and Maddy were scared, and I wasn't."
Charlotte looked up into the lofty hall. It was all pale stone and dark wood, a medieval priory crystallized in time. A broad staircase swept up to a landing, lit by wedges of gossamer light from the windows. Dust lay thick on the sills, cobwebs curtained the banisters and the candelabras. The huge firegrate was full of ashes and shadows. The atmosphere lay heavy as if it had not been disturbed for centuries.
"It seems such a shame to modernise it," said Charlotte. Anne hung behind her a little. "I have a confession to make. This place actually rather gives me the creeps."
"You? I didn't think anything frightened you!"
"I'm not frightened," Anne said crisply. "Just a bitЕ well it does have rather an atmosphere, doesn't it? I shall be glad when we have electric lights and all that. We shan't ruin it, Charli; the idea is to preserve it rather than let it fall down."
"You won't be the first. I think it dates from the Wars of the Roses or before, but it's been lived in on and off since then. That's why you'll find Elizabethan and Georgian alterations. I think it was last inhabited before the beginning of the last century."
Charlotte went up the stairs to the landing as she spoke and stood looking over the banister at the hall below and the ceiling arching above them. The black, ornately carved beams made her think of an ancient church; slightly sinister, intruding from a lost time. She remembered her sisters trying to terrify her with tales of hauntings, or by leaving her alone here; failing, because the house intrigued her more than it repelled her.
Anne went past her, through a door to a solar. "There's a bed in here that looks as if it hasn't been slept in since the sixteenth century. The most beautiful tapestry cover and it's absolutely grey with dustЕ " There was the sound of flapping cloth, a cloud of dust billowed out and Anne emerged, coughing.
"It will take an army to clean this place!" she said, waving a hand in front of her face. "The first thing I am going to do is have the chimneys cleaned and a fire lit in every grate and kept burning for as long as it takes to dry out the damp. That's the sort of thing men don't think of."
Downstairs, they went into a dimly-lit kitchen with iron-grilled windows and store rooms in which the debris of centuries lay piled up. Anne became subdued. Presently Charlotte asked, "Are you sure you really want to live here?"
"Of course! It's a challenge. Where does this lead?" Anne struggled with the latch of a cracked, age-darkened door.
"It's the cellar," said Charlotte. "It's not very nice down there."
"Unless you're a rat or a spider." The door came open and a stagnant scent rolled up, heavy as stone. Faint gauzy light spilled down the steps, forming oblongs barred with shadow, and across one of these oblongs Charlotte clearly saw the silhouette of a cat walking.
It padded across the light and was gone. There was a moment of silence. Then Anne said, "Did you see that?"
"A cat?" said Charlotte.
Anne nodded. "How could it have got down there?"
"I don't know, but we can't leave it." Charlotte started down the steps. She remembered coming down here as a child, caught between delicious terror and excitement at daring to brave the darkness. Now that feeling caught her again, electric.
There is no cat, she thought.
At the bottom, the steps turned round on themselves and into a dark space like the crypt of a church. She could see nothing, but peeing into the blackness she could feel the shape of the cellar, the weight of the walls and ceiling. The air was frosted with the stench of damp stone and age.
"Charlotte!" Anne's voice came from half-way down the stairs. "It's silly to go down without a torch. If we just leave the door open, the stupid animal can come out on its own. Give me a dog any day."