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

CHAPTER XIX

They might have all been dead men, frozen in their seats at the table. No one spoke a word, but every man watched the Frenchman as he stood there smiling, his hand outstretched for the jewels.

Five against twelve, but the five were armed, and the twelve had supped unwisely and too well, and the swords by their sides were sheathed. Eustick still had his hand upon the door, but Luc Dumont from La Mouette stood beside him, pointing a pistol at his ribs, and slowly Eustick closed the door, and drew the bolts into their sockets. Down the staircase from the gallery above came Pierre Blanc and his companion, and they took up positions at either end of the long hall, so that if any man's hand strayed to his sword that man would have fallen, even as their master said. Rockingham leant against the wall, watching the point of William's cutlass, and he passed his tongue over his lips and did not speak. Only the host, who had sunk once again into his chair, surveyed the scene with bland bewilderment, a glass, half-filled with wine, raised to his lips.

Dona unscrewed the rubies from her ears, and laid them in the outstretched hand before her.

"Is that all?" she said.

He pointed with his sword to the pendant around her throat.

"Won't you spare me that as well?" he said, one eyebrow raised, "my cabin-boy will curse me otherwise. And the bracelet on your arm, I must ask you for that too."

She unfastened the bracelet and the pendant, and without a word and without a smile she placed them in his hand.

"Thank you," he said, "I trust you are recovered from your fever?"

"I thought so," she answered, "but your presence here will doubtless bring it back again."

"That would be a pity," he said gravely. "My conscience would be uneasy. My cabin-boy suffers from fever from time to time, but the sea air does wonders for him. You ought to try it." And bowing he placed the jewels in his pocket, and turned away from her.

"Lord Godolphin I believe," he said, standing before his lordship. "Last time we met I relieved you of your wig. That also was the fault of a wager. This time, perhaps, I might take something a little more substantial." He reached for the decoration on Godolphin's breast, a ribbon and a star, and cut it away with his sword.

"Your weapon also, I regret to say, is something I cannot leave upon your person," and Godolphin's sheath clattered upon the ground. The Frenchman bowed again, and passed on to Philip Rashleigh. "Good evening, sir," he said, "you are looking a trifle less warm than when I saw you last. I must thank you for the gift of the Merry Fortune. She is a splendid vessel. You would not recognise her now, I swear. They have given her a new rig on my side of the channel, and a coat of paint into the bargain. Your sword, sir, if you please. And what have you in your pockets?"

The veins stood out in Rashleigh's forehead, and his breath came quick and fast. "You'll pay for this, God damn you," he said.

"Possibly," said the Frenchman, "but in the meanwhile, it is you who are paying," and he emptied Rashleigh's sovereigns into a bag tied at his waist.

Slowly he made the circuit of the table, and each guest in turn lost the weapon at his side, and the money from his pockets, with the rings from his fingers, and the pin from his cravat. And as the Frenchman strolled round the table, whistling a tune under his breath, he would lean, now and again, to the bowl of fruit, and pluck a grape, and once, while waiting for the stout guest from Bodmin to divest himself of the many rings on his fingers, swollen with gout, he sat on the edge of the table, amongst the silver and the dishes, and poured himself a glass of wine from a carafe.

"You have a good cellar, Sir Harry," he said. "I should advise you to keep this a year or so longer; it is a wine that will improve. I had some half-dozen bottles of the same vintage in my own house in Brittany, and like a fool I drank it all too soon."

"Death and damnation," spluttered Harry, "of all the confounded…"

"Don't worry," smiled the Frenchman, "I could have the key of the cellar from William if I wanted it, but I would not deprive you of the fun of drinking this in four or five years' time." He scratched his ear, and glanced down at the ring on Harry's finger. "That is a very fine emerald," he said. For answer Harry tore it from his finger and threw it at the Frenchman's face, but he caught it in his hands, and held it to the light.

"Not a single flaw," he said, "which is rare in an emerald. However, I will not take it. On second thoughts, Sir Harry, I have robbed you enough." And bowing, he handed the ring back to Dona's husband. "And now, gentlemen," he said, "I have a last request to make. It is, perhaps, a little crude, but under the circumstances, very necessary. You see, I wish to return to my ship, and to have you join your fellows in the woods and give chase to me would, I fear, somewhat prejudice my plans. In short, I must ask you to take off your breeches and hand them over to my men here. Likewise your stockings, and your shoes." One and all they stared at him in rage, and "By heaven, no," shouted Eustick, "have you not made game of us enough?"

"I am sorry," smiled the Frenchman, "but really I must insist. The night is warm, you know, and yesterday was midsummer. Lady St. Columb, perhaps you would be good enough to go into the salon? These gentlemen will not care to undress themselves before you in public, however much they may desire to do so in private."

And he held open the door for her to pass, and looking over his shoulder to the guests he called, "I will give you five minutes, but no more. Pierre Blanc, Jules, Luc, William - keep a close watch upon the gentlemen, and while they are disrobing, her ladyship and I will discuss the affairs of the day."

He followed her into the salon and shut the door.

"And you," he said, "with your proud smile, standing at the head of the table, shall I make you do the same, my cabin-boy?" and he threw his sword on the chair, and laughed, and held out his arms. She went to him, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Why are you so reckless?" she asked, "so shameless, and so wicked? Do you know that the woods and the hills are black with men?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why did you come here then?"

"Because, as in all my undertakings, the most hazardous performance is usually the most successful. Besides, I had not kissed you for nearly twenty-four hours." And he bent his head, and took her face in his hands.

"What did you think," she said, "when I did not come for breakfast?"

"There was little time to think," he answered, "because I was woken just after sunrise by Pierre Blanc, to tell me La Mouette was aground, and taking in water. We have had the devil's own time with her, as you can imagine. And then, later on, when we were all stripped to the waist and working on her, William came down with your news."

"But you did not know then, what was being planned for - tonight?"

"No, but I soon had a shrewd suspicion. One of my men saw a figure on the beach, up the river, and another in the hills opposite. And we knew then, that we were working against time. Even so, they had not found La Mouette. They were guarding the river and the woods, but they had not come down to the creek." "And then William came the second time?" "Yes, between five and six this evening. He warned me of your party here at Navron, and I decided then what I should do. I told him of course, but that cut he received from the fellow in the woods on his way back to you did not help much."

"I kept thinking of him, during supper, lying wounded and fainting on my bed."

"Yes, but he dragged himself to the window, all the same, to admit us, just as we had planned. Your servants, by the way, are all shut up in your game larder, tied back-to-back, like the fellows we found on the Merry Fortune. Do you want your trinkets back again?" He felt in his pocket for her jewels, but she shook her head.

"You had better keep them," she said, "to remember me by."

He said nothing, but looked over her head, stroking her curls.

"La Mouette will sail within two hours, if all goes well," he said. "The patch in her side is rough, but it must hold until she reaches the French coast."

"What of the weather?" she asked.

"The wind is fair and steady enough. We should reach Brittany in eighteen hours or less."

Dona was silent, and he went on touching her hair. "I have no cabin-boy," he said. "Do you know of a likely lad who would sail with me?"

She looked at him then, but he was not smiling any more, and he moved away from her, and picked up his sword.

"I shall have to take William, I'm afraid," he said. "He has played his part at Navron, and your household will know him no longer. He has served you well, has he not?"

"Very well," she answered.

"If it were not for the scrap he had tonight with Eustick's man, I would have left him," he said, "but recognition would come swift and fast, and Eustick would have hanged him without scruple. Besides, I hardly think he would have stayed to serve your husband."

He glanced about the room, his eyes alighting for a foment on Harry's portrait, and then he walked to the long window, and flung it open, drawing back the curtains. "Do you remember the first night I supped with you?" he said, "and afterwards you stared into the fire, and I drew your picture. You were angry with me, were you not?"

"No," she said, "not angry. Only ashamed, because you guessed too much."

"I will tell you one thing," he said, "you will never make a fisherman. You are too impatient. You will keep getting tangled up in your line."

Someone knocked at the door, and "Yes?" he called in French, "have the gentlemen done what I commanded them?"

"They have, monsieur," answered William, through the door.

"Very well then. Tell Pierre Blanc to tie their hands behind their backs, and escort them to the bedrooms above. Close the doors upon them and turn the keys. They will not trouble us for two hours, which will give me the time we need."

"Very good, monsieur."

"And William?"

"Monsieur?"

"How is your arm?"

"A trifle painful, monsieur, but not seriously so."

"That is good. Because I want you to take her ladyship by carriage to that spit of sand three miles this side of Coverack."

"Yes, monsieur."

"And there await my further orders."

"I understand, monsieur."

She stared at him, puzzled, and he came and stood before her, his sword in his hand. "What are you going to do?" she said.

He waited a moment before he answered, and he was not smiling any more, and his eyes were dark.

"You remember how we talked together last night by the creek?"

"Yes," she said.

"And we agreed that it was impossible for a woman to escape, except for an hour and a day?"

"Yes."

"This morning," he said, "when I was working on the ship, and William brought me the news that you were alone no longer, I realised that our make-believe was over, and the creek was our sanctuary no more. From this time forward La Mouette must sail other waters, and find different hiding-places. And although she will be free, and the men on board her free, her master will remain captive."

"What do you mean?" said Dona.

"I mean that I am bound to you, even as you are bound to me. From the very first, I knew that it would be so. When I came here, in the winter, and lay upstairs in your room, my hands behind my head, and looked at your sullen portrait on the wall, I smiled to myself, and said, 'That - and none other.' And I waited, and I did nothing, for I knew that our time would come."

"What else?" she said.

"You, too," he said, "my careless indifferent Dona, so hard, so disillusioned, playing the boy in London with your husband and his friends, you guessed that somewhere, in heaven knew what country and what guise, there was someone who was part of your body and your brain, and that without him you were lost, a straw blown by the wind."

She went to him, and put her hands over his eyes.

"All that," she said, "all that you feel, I feel. Every thought, every wish, every changing mood. But it's too late, there is nothing we can do. You have told me so already."

"I told you so last night," he said, "when we had no cares, and we were together, and the morning was many hours away. At those times a man can afford to shrug his shoulders at the future, because he holds the present in his arms, and the very cruelty of the thought adds, in some desperate fashion, to the delight of the moment. And when a man makes love, my Dona, he escapes from the burden of that love, and from himself as well."

"Yes," she said, "I know that. I have always known it. But not every woman."

"No," he said, "not every woman." He took the bracelet from his pocket and clasped it on her wrist. "And so," he went on, "when the morning came and I saw the mist on the creek, and you were gone from my side, there came also, not disillusion, but realisation. I knew that escape, for me too, was impossible. I had become like a prisoner in chains, and the dungeon was deep."

She took his hand, and laid it against her cheek.

"And all day long you worked upon your ship," she said, "and you sweated, and toiled, and said nothing, and frowned that frown of concentration I have come to understand, and then - when you had finished - what was your answer?"

He looked away from her, towards the open window.

"My answer," he said slowly, "was still the same. That you were Dona St. Columb, wife of an English baronet, and mother of two children, and I was a Frenchman, and an outlaw, a robber of your country, an enemy to your friends. If there is an answer, Dona, you must make it and not me."

He crossed to the window once more, and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"That is why I have asked William to take you to the cove near Coverack," he said, "so that you can decide what you wish to do. If I, and Pierre Blanc and the rest of us, return safely to the ship through this cordon in the wood, and hoist sail without delay, and leave with the tide, we shall be abreast of Coverack by sunrise. I will put off in a boat to have your answer. Should there be no sign of La Mouette by daylight, you will know that something has gone amiss with my plan. And Godolphin perhaps will have at last the satisfaction of hanging that hated Frenchman from the tallest tree in his park."

He smiled, and stepped out onto the terrace. "I have loved you, Dona," he said, "in almost every mood. But mostly, I think, when you threw yourself down on the deck of the Merry Fortune, in Pierre Blanc's breeches, with blood on your face, and the rain streaming down your torn shirt, and I looked at you and laughed, and a bullet whistled over your head."

Then he turned, and vanished in the darkness. She stood still, without moving, her hands clasped in front of her, while the minutes sped. Then at last she realised, like someone who has woken from a dream, that she was alone, and the house was silent, and that she held her ruby earrings and her pendant in her hands. A draught came from the open window, blowing the candles on the wall, and hardly aware of what she did she went to it, and closed and bolted it, and then went to the door leading to the dining-hall, and opened it wide.

There were the plates and the dishes on the table, and the bowls piled high with fruit, and the silver goblets and the glasses. The chairs were pushed back, as though the guests had risen from their supper, and withdrawn, and there was a strange forlorn air about the table, like a still-life picture drawn by an amateur brush, in which the food, and the fruit, and the spilt wine lack life and reality. The two spaniels crouched on the floor, and Duchess, lifting her nose from between her paws, looked up at Dona, and whined uncertainly. One of the men from La Mouette must have snuffed the candles, and then left, in haste, before extinguishing them all; for there were three that remained burning, the grease dripping on the floor, and the light they gave was sinister and queer.

One of them went out, and only two stayed now to flicker and dance upon the wall. The men of La Mouette had done their work and departed. They were creeping through the woods now to the ship in the creek, and their master was with them, his sword in his hand. The clock in the stable yard struck one; a high thin note, like the echo of a bell. Upstairs, unclothed and with their wrists tied, the guests of Navron House would be lying helpless and enraged upon the floor. All except Harry, and he would be asleep, on his back, and snoring, his wig askew and his mouth wide open, for not all the ill-treatment in the world would keep a St. Columb from his bed, when he had supped too well. William must be attending to his own hurt, in his own room, and her conscience reproached her, for she had been forgetting him. So she turned then, to the great staircase, and placed her hand on the rail, when a sound from above made her look upwards to the gallery. And there, staring down at her with narrow, unsmiling eyes, stood Rockingham with a gash across his face, and a knife in his hand.