"Frenchman's Creek" - читать интересную книгу автора (du Maurier Daphne)

CHAPTER XVI

Once again William glanced up the stairway, his small eyes gleaming in his pale face, but Dona shook her head silently, and crossing the hall on tiptoe she led the way into the salon. William lit two candles and then stood before her, waiting for her to speak.

"What reason did he give?" she said. "Why have they come?"

"I gather that Sir Harry was becoming restless in London without you, my lady," said William, "and a word from Lord Rockingham decided him. It seems that his lordship met a relative of Lord Godolphin's at Whitehall, who told him that Sir Harry's presence in Cornwall was urgently needed at the present time. That is all I could discover from their conversation at supper, my lady."

"Yes," said Dona, as though she had not heard him. "Yes, it would be Rockingham. Harry is too lazy to come without persuasion."

William stood motionless before her, the candle in his hand.

"What did you tell Sir Harry?" she asked. "How did you keep him from my room?"

For the first time a trace of a smile appeared on William's face, and he looked at his mistress with understanding.

"Sir Harry would not have passed into your room, my lady," he said, "he must have slain me first. I explained to the gentlemen, as soon as they had dismounted, that you had been in bed for several days with a high fever, that at last you were obtaining some measure of sleep, and that it would be extremely prejudicial to your health if Sir Harry as much as ventured into the room. Absolute quiet was essential."

"And he accepted your story?"

"Like a lamb, my lady. He swore a trifle at first, and cursed me for not having sent for him, but I explained that it was your ladyship's strict orders that he was not to be told. And then Miss Henrietta and Master James came running to meet Sir Harry, telling the same tale, that your ladyship was poorly and confined to your bed, and Prue of course came too, with a woebegone face, that your ladyship would not even admit her to tend upon you. So after having played with the children, and supped, and taken a turn around the gardens, my lady, Sir Harry and Lord Rockingham retired. Sir Harry is in the blue room, my lady."

Dona smiled at him, and put her hand on his arm.

"Faithful one," she said, "and then you did not sleep yourself for thinking of the morning that was to come. And supposing I had not returned?"

"No doubt I would have arrived at some decision, my lady, although the problem was a little hard."

"And my lord Rockingham? What did he say to all this?"

"His lordship appeared disappointed, my lady, that you were not down to receive them, but he said very little. It seemed to interest him when Prue told Sir Harry that no one was looking after you but myself. I observed that his lordship looked upon me with some curiosity, my lady, and if I might venture to say so, with new eyes."

"He would, William, Lord Rockingham has that sort of mind. He is a person to watch, for he has a long nose like a terrier dog."

"Yes, my lady."

"It is strange, William, what fatality lies in the making of plans. I thought to breakfast with your master in the creek, and to fish with him, and to swim, and to cook our supper under the stars again as we did last night, and now all that is finished and done with."

"But not for long, my lady."

"That we cannot tell. At all costs word must be sent to La Mouette, and she must leave the creek with the next tide."

"It would be more prudent to wait until night-fall, my lady."

"Your master will decide of course. Ah, William."

"My lady?"

But she shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, telling him with her eyes the things that she could never say in speech, and suddenly he bent down, patting her shoulder as though she were Henrietta, his funny button mouth twisted.

"I know, my lady," he said, "but it will come all right. You will be together again," and then because of the anticlimax of home-coming, because she was tired, because he patted her shoulder in his kind ridiculous way, she felt the tears running down her cheeks, and she could not stop them. "Forgive me, William," she said.

"My lady."

"So foolish, so unutterably foolish and weak. It is something to do with having been so happy."

"I know, my lady."

"Because we were happy, William. And there was the sun, and the wind, and the sea, and - loveliness such as has never been."

"I can imagine it, my lady."

"It does not happen often, does it?"

"Once in a million years, my lady."

"Therefore I will shed no more tears, like a spoilt child. For whatever happens we have had what we have had. No one can take that from us. And I have been alive, who was never alive before. Now, William, I shall go to my room, and undress, and get into bed. And later in the morning you shall call me, with my breakfast, and when I am sufficiently prepared for the ordeal, I will see Sir Harry, and find out how long he intends to stay."

"Very good, my lady."

"And somehow, in some way, word must be sent to your master in the creek."

"Yes, my lady."

And so, with the daylight coming through the chinks in the shutters, they left the room, and Dona, her shoes in her hands and her cloak about her shoulders, crept up the stairway she had descended some five days earlier, and it seemed to her that a year and a life-time had passed since then. She listened for a moment outside Harry's room, and yes, there were the familiar snuffling snores of Duke and Duchess, the spaniels, and the heavy slow breathing of Harry himself. Those things, she thought, were part of the pattern that irritated me once, that drove me to absurdities, and now they no longer have any power to touch me, for they are not of my world now, I have escaped.

She went to her own room, and closed the door. It smelt cool and sweet, for the window was open on to the garden, and William had put lilies-of-the-valley beside her bed. She pulled aside the curtains and undressed, and lay down with her hands over her eyes, and now, she thought, now he is waking beside the creek, putting out his hand for me beside him and finding me gone, and then he remembers and smiles, and stretches, and yawns, and watches the sun come up over the trees. And later he will get up and sniff the day, as I have seen him do, whistling under his breath, scratching his left ear, and then walk down to the creek and swim. He will call up to the men on La Mouette, as they scrub the decks, and one of them will lower the rope ladder for him to climb, and another launch a boat to bring back the little boat and the supper things and the blankets. Then he will go to the cabin, and rub himself dry with a towel, glancing out of the port-hole on to the water as he does so, and presently, when he has dressed, Pierre Blanc will bring breakfast, and he will wait a little, but then because he will be hungry he will eat it without me. Later he will come up on deck and watch the path through the trees. She could see him fill his pipe, and lean against the poop rail, looking down into the water, and perhaps the swans would come back, and he would throw bread to them, idle, contented, filled with a warm laziness after his morning swim, thinking perhaps of the day's fishing to come, and the hot sun, and the sea. She knew how he would glance up towards her, if she came through the trees down to the creek, and how he would smile, saying nothing, never moving from the rail on the deck, throwing the bread down to the swans as though he did not see her. And what is the use, thought Dona, of going over this in my mind, for all that is finished, and done with, and will not happen again, for the ship must sail before she is discovered. And here am I, lying on my bed at Navron, and there is he, down in the creek, and we are not together any more, and this then, that I am feeling now, is the hell that comes with love, the hell and the damnation and the agony beyond all enduring, because after the beauty and the loveliness comes the sorrow and the pain. So she lay on her back, her arms across her eyes, never sleeping, and the sun came up and streamed into the room.

It was after nine o'clock that William came in with her breakfast, and he put the tray down onto the table beside her bed, and "Are you rested, my lady?" he asked. "Yes, William," she lied, breaking off a grape from the bunch he had brought her.

"The gentlemen are below breakfasting, my lady," he told her. "Sir Harry bade me enquire whether you were sufficiently recovered for him to see you."

"Yes, I shall have to see him, William."

"If I might suggest it, my lady, it would be prudent to draw the curtains a trifle, so that your face is in shadow. Sir Harry might think it peculiar that you look so well."

"Do I look well, William?"

"Suspiciously well, my lady."

"And yet my head is aching intolerably."

"From other causes, my lady."

"And I have shadows beneath my eyes, and I am exceedingly weary."

"Quite, my lady."

"I think you had better leave the room, William, before I throw something at you."

"Very good, my lady."

He went away, closing the door softly behind him, and Dona, rising, washed and then arranged her hair, and after drawing the curtains as he had suggested, she went back to her bed, and presently she heard the shrill yapping of the spaniels, and their scratching against the door, followed by a heavy footstep, and in a moment Harry was in the room, and the dogs with delighted barking hurled themselves upon her bed.

"Get down, now, will you, you little devils," he shouted. "Hi, Duke, hi, Duchess, can't you see your mistress is ill, come here, will you, you rascals," making, as was his wont, more ado than the dogs themselves, and then, sitting heavily upon the bed in place of them, he brushed away the marks of their feet with his scented handkerchief, puffing and blowing as he did so.

"God dammit, it's warm this morning," he said, "here I am sweating through my shirt already, and it's not yet ten o'clock. How are you, are you better, where did you get this confounded fever? Have you a kiss for me?" He bent over her, the smell of scent strong upon him, and his curled wig scratching her chin, while his clumsy fingers prodded her cheek. "You do not look very ill, my beautiful, even in this light, and here was I expecting to find you at death's door itself, from what the fellow told here. What sort of a servant is he, anyway? I'll dismiss him if you don't like him, you know."

"William is a treasure," she said, "the best servant I have ever had."

"Ah, well, as long as he pleases you, that's all that matters. So you've been ill, have you? You should never have left London. London always suits you. Although I admit it's been damned dull without you. Not a play worth seeing, and I nearly lost a fortune at piquet the other night. The King has a new mistress, they tell me, but I haven't seen her yet. Some actress or other. Rockingham's here, you know, and all agog to see you. God dammit, he said to me, in town, let's go down to Navron and see what Dona is up to, and here we are, and you a confounded invalid in bed."

"I am much better, Harry. It was only a passing thing."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. As I say, you look well enough. You have a tan on you, haven't you? You're as dark as a gypsy."

"The illness must have made me yellow."

"And your eyes are larger than ever they were, dammit."

"The result of the fever, Harry."

"Queer sort of fever. Must be something to do with the climate down here. Would you like the dogs up on your bed?"

"No, I think not."

"Hi, Duke, give your mistress a kiss, and then get down. Here, Duchess, here's your mistress. Duchess has a sore patch on her back, and she's nearly scratched herself raw, look at that now, what would you do to her? I've rubbed in some pomade, but it does her no good. I've bought a new horse, by-the-way, she's down there in the stable. A chestnut, with a deuce of a temper, but she covers the ground quick enough. 'I'll give you a thousand for her,' says Rockingham, and 'Make it five thousand,' I tell him, 'and I might bite,' but he won't play. So the county's infested with pirates, is it, and robbery, rape and violence causing havoc amongst the people?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Well, Rockingham brought back a story in town one day. Met a cousin of George Godolphin's. How is Godolphin?"

"A little out of temper when I saw him last."

"So I should think. He sent me a letter a while back, which I forgot to answer. And now his brother-in-law has lost a ship, it seems. Do you know Philip Rashleigh?"

"Not to speak to, Harry."

"Well, you'll meet him soon. I invited him over here. We met him in Helston yesterday. He was in a devil of a temper, and so was Eustick, who was with him. It seems this infernal Frenchman sailed the vessel straight out of Fowey harbour, right under the nose of Rashleigh and Godolphin. What infernal impudence, eh? And then off to the French coast, of course, with not a damned ship in pursuit. God knows what the vessel was worth, she was just home from the Indies."

"Why did you invite Philip Rashleigh here?"

"Well, it was Rockingham's idea really. 'Let's take a hand in the game,' he said to me, 'you're an authority, you know, in this part of the world. And we might have some sport out of it.' 'Sport?' says Rashleigh, 'you'd think it sport no doubt if you'd lost a fortune like I've done.' 'Ah,' says Rockingham, 'you're all asleep down here. We'll catch the fellow for you, and then you'll have sport enough.' So we'll hold a meeting, I thought, and collect Godolphin and one or two others, and set a trap for the Frenchman, and when we've caught him we'll string him up somewhere, and give you a laugh."

"So you think you'll succeed, Harry, where others have failed?"

"Oh, Rockingham will think of something. He's the fellow to tackle the job. I know I'm no damn use, I haven't got a brain in my head, thank God. Here, Dona, when are you going to get up?"

"When you have left the room."

"Still aloof, eh, and keeping yourself to yourself? I don't get much fun out of my wife, do I, Duke? Hi, then, fetch a slipper, where is it, boy, go seek, go find," and throwing Dona's shoe across the room he sent the dogs after it, and they fought for it, yapping and scratching, and returning, hurled themselves upon the bed.

"All right then, we'll go, we're not wanted, dogs, we're in the way. I'll go and tell Rockingham you're getting up, he'll be as pleased as a cat with two tails. I'll send the children to you, shall I?"

And he stamped out of the room, singing loudly, the dogs barking at his heels.

So Philip Rashleigh had been in Helston yesterday, and Eustick with him. And Godolphin too must have returned by now. She thought of Rashleigh's face as she had seen it last, scarlet with rage and helplessness, and his cry, "There's a woman aboard, look there," as he stared up at her from the boat in Fowey Haven, and she, with the sash gone from her head, and her curb blowing loose, had laughed down at him, waving her hand.

He would not recognise her. It would be impossible. For then she was in shirt and breeches, her face and hair streaming with the rain. She got up, and began to dress, her mind still busy with the news that Harry had given her. The thought of Rockingham here at Navron, bent on mischief, was a continual pin-prick of irritation, for Rockingham was no fool. Besides, he belonged to London, to the cobbled streets, and the playhouses, to the overheated, overscented atmosphere that was St. James's, and at Navron, her Navron, he was an interloper, a breaker of the peace. The serenity of the place was gone already, she could hear his voice in the garden beneath her window, and Harry's too, they were laughing together, throwing stones for the dogs. No, it was done with and finished. Escape was a thing of yesterday. And La Mouette might never have returned after all. The ship might still have lain becalmed and quiet off the coast of France, while her crew took the Merry Fortune into port. The breakers on the white still beach, the green sea golden under the sun, the water cold and clean on her naked body, and after swimming, the warmth of the dry deck under her back, as she looked up at the tall, raffish spars of La Mouette stabbing the sky.

Then there were knockings on the door, and the children came in, Henrietta with a new doll that Harry had brought her, and James stuffing a rabbit into his mouth, and they flung themselves upon her with small hot hands and generous kisses. Prue curtseying in the background with anxious enquiries for her health, and somewhere, thought Dona, as she held them to her, somewhere there is a woman who cares for none of these things, but lies upon the deck of a ship and laughs with her lover, and the taste of salt is on their lips, and the warmth of the sun and the sea. "My doll is nicer than James's rabbit," said Henrietta, and James, jigging up and down on Dona's knee, his fat cheek pressed against hers, shouted "No, no, mine, mine," and taking his rabbit from his mouth hurled it in his sister's face. So then there were tears, and scoldings, and reconciliations, and more kisses, and a finding of chocolate, and much fuss and chatter, and the ship was no more, and the sea was no more, but Lady St. Columb of Navron, with her hair dressed high off her forehead, and clad in a soft blue gown, descended the stairs to the garden below, a child in either hand.

"So you have had a fever, Dona?" said Rockingham, advancing towards her, and kissing the hand she gave him. "At all events," he added, drawing back to look at her, "it was a most becoming fever."

"That's what I say," said Harry. "I told her so upstairs, she's got a tan on her like a gypsy," and bending down he seized the children, bearing them high on his shoulder, and they screamed delightedly, the dogs joining in the clamour.

Dona sat down on the seat on the terrace, and Rockingham, standing before her, played with the lace at his wrists.

"You don't appear very delighted to see me," he said.

"Why should I?" she answered.

"It's some weeks since I saw you," he said, "and you went off in such an extraordinary way, after the escapade at Hampton Court. I suppose I did something to offend you."

"You did nothing," she said.

He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders. "What have you been doing with yourself down here?" he asked. Dona yawned, watching Harry and the children as they played on the lawn with the dogs. "I have been very happy," she said, "alone here, with the children. I told Harry, when I left London, that I wanted to be alone. I am angry with the both of you for breaking my peace."

"We have not come entirely for pleasure," said Rockingham, "we are here on business as well. We propose catching the pirate who seems to be giving you all so much trouble."

"And how do you propose doing that?"

"Ah, well… we shall see. Harry is quite excited at the idea. He's been getting bored with nothing to do. And London in midsummer stinks too much, even for me. The country will do us both good."

"How long do you propose to stay?"

"Until we have caught the Frenchman."

Dona laughed, and picking a daisy from the grass, began tearing off the petals. "He has gone back to France," she said.

"I think not," said Rockingham.

"Why so?"

"Because of something that fellow Eustick was saying yesterday."

"The surly Thomas Eustick? What had he to say?" said Dona.

"Only that a fishing craft from St. Michael's Mount had reported seeing a vessel in the early hours of yesterday morning, making towards the English coast."

"Slender evidence. Some merchantman returning from abroad."

"The fisherman thought not."

"The coast of England goes a long way, my dear Rockingham. From the Land's End to the Wight is a precious stretch to watch."

"Yes, but the Frenchman leaves the Wight alone. It seems he leaves everything alone, but for this narrow strip of Cornwall. Rashleigh will have it that he has even visited your Helford river here."

"He must do it by night then, when I am in bed and asleep."

"Possibly he does. At any rate, he will not dare to do it much longer. It will be vastly amusing to stop his little game. I suppose there are many creeks and inlets round your coast here?"

"No doubt. Harry could tell you better than I."

"And the country hereabouts is sparsely inhabited. Navron is the only big house in the district I understand."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"How ideal for a law-breaker. I almost wish I were a pirate myself. And if I knew the house was without masculine protection, and that the lady of the manor was as beautiful as you, Dona…"

"Yes, Rockingham?"

"If I were a pirate, I repeat, knowing all these things, I should be most tempted to return to the district again and again."

Dona yawned once more, and threw away the mutilated daisy.

"But you are not a pirate, my dear Rockingham, you are only a grossly spoilt, overdressed, exceedingly decadent member of the aristocracy, with too great a fondness for women and for alcohol. So shall we leave the subject alone? I am becoming rather bored."

She got up from her seat, and began to wander towards the house.

"Time was," he said casually, "when you were not bored either by me or by my conversation."

"You flatter yourself."

"Do you remember a certain evening at Vauxhall?"

"I remember many evenings at Vauxhall, and one in particular, when because I had drunk two glasses of wine and was feeling intolerably sleepy, you had the audacity to kiss me and I was too idle to protest. I disliked you ever afterwards, and myself more so."

They stopped at the long window, and he gazed at her, a flush on his face. "What a delightful speech," he said. "The Cornish air has made you almost venomous. Or possibly it is the result of the fever."

"Possibly it is."

"Were you as churlish as this to the curious-looking manservant who attended you?"

"You had better ask him."

"I think I shall. If I were Harry I should ask him many questions, and all of an extremely personal nature."

"Who's this, what's this all about?" and Harry himself joined them, flinging himself down in a chair in the salon, wiping his forehead with a lace handkerchief. "What are you discussing, both of you?"

"We were discussing your manservant," said Rockingham, with a brilliant smile, "so strange that Dona would permit no one else to attend her while she was ill."

"Yes, by heaven, he's a rum-looking devil, and no mistake. Wouldn't trust him too far, if I were you, Dona. What d'you see in the fellow?"

"He is quiet, he is discreet, he walks soundlessly, and nobody else in the house does those things. Therefore I determined I should be nursed by him and by no one else."

"Extremely pleasant for the manservant," said Rockingham, polishing his nails.

"Yes, hang it," blustered Harry, "Rock's quite right, you know, Dona. The fellow might have taken infernal liberties. It was a damned risky thing to do. You lying weak and helpless in bed, and the fellow creeping about round you. He's not like an old retainer either, I know very little about him."

"Oh, so he has not been in your service long?" said Rockingham.

"No. Hang it, Rock, we never come to Navron, as you know. And I'm so confounded idle I never know half the time who my servants are. I've a mind to dismiss him."

"You will do nothing of the kind," said Dona; "William shall remain in my service for as long as it pleases me.

"All right, all right, no need to be tricky about it," said Harry, picking up Duchess and fondling her, "but it looks a trifle queer to have the fellow hanging about your bedroom. Here he is anyway, bringing a letter from someone. He looks as if he were sickening for some fever himself." Dona glanced at the door, and there was William, with a note in his hand, and his face paler than usual, and there was something of strain in his eyes.

"What's this, eh?" said Harry.

"A letter from Lord Godolphin, Sir Harry," answered William. "His man has just brought it, and waits for an answer."

Harry tore open the letter, and then threw it across to Rockingham with a laugh. "The hounds are gathering, Rock," he said, "we shall have some fun out of this."

Rockingham read the note with a smile, and then tore it into fragments.

"What answer will you give?" he said.

Harry examined the back of his spaniel, pulling aside the dog's coat. "She has another patch of eczema here, confound it," he said, "that pomade I'm trying is no use at all. What d'you say? Oh, yes, an answer for Godolphin. Tell the man, will you, William, that her ladyship and I will be delighted to receive his lordship and the other gentlemen this evening for supper."

"Very good, sir," said William.

"And what invitation is this?" asked Dona, patting her curls in the mirror, "and who shall I be delighted to receive?"

"George Godolphin, Tommy Eustick, Philip Rashleigh, and half-a-dozen others," said Harry, flinging the dog off his knee, "and they're going to catch the froggie at last, aren't they, Duchess, and we shall be in at the kill."

Dona said nothing, and looking back into the room through the mirror she saw" that Rockingham was watching her.

"It will be an amusing party, do you not think?" he said.

"I rather doubt it," said Dona, "knowing Harry as a host. You will all be under the table by midnight."

She went out of the room and when she had closed the door she called to William softly, and he came to her at once, his eyes troubled.

"What is it?" she said, "you are anxious. Lord Godolphin and his friends, they can't do anything, it will be too late, La Mouette will have sailed."

"No, my lady," said William, "she will not have sailed. I have been down to the creek to warn my master. And I found the ship had grounded with this morning's tide, a rock piercing her planking under water. They were working on her when I went to the creek. And she will not be fit to sail for twenty-four hours."

His eyes wandered from her face, he moved away, and Dona, glancing over her shoulder saw that the door she had just closed had been opened again, and Rockingham was standing in the entrance, playing with the lace at his wrists.