“I’ll — I’ll speak to him about it,” she promised Judith.
The door of the parlour jerked open again and Roger came back into the room to stand facing her, his lean body tense, his fists balled at his sides, his snub-featured face compressed into an expression of mingled defiance and determination.
“I want to go with you to Cudlingham,” he announced with a pugnaciousness that showed he expected argument and refusal.
Tansy nodded and lightly clasped her hands. “I think it would be best — but on one condition.”
Roger’s whole face changed, incredulous delight washing over it, his eyes almost vanishing in crinkled exultation, his grin a little shaky. “I never thought you’d agree. I can hardly believe it. Does it mean — could it be —?”
He did not dare to voice his most secret hope, and Tansy put it into words for him with a smile. “I’ve no objection to your finding work connected with horses, if that’s what you want to know. But what would you do?”
“I’ll be a jockey!” he announced triumphantly.
“Rubbish!” Nina taunted, giving Tansy no chance to answer. “Nobody starts off as a jockey, you should know that, except for gentlemen who own their own race horses and can do what they like. You’d have to serve an apprenticeship as a stable lad, and if you’re lucky — and only if you’re lucky — you may become good enough at riding and handling horses to be tried out eventually in a race, but that’s only if you don’t grow too tall or too heavy or fail to achieve what is expected of you. We heard Papa talk enough about it all, heaven only knows.”
His complacent, exhilarated air did not diminish. “Well, now I’ll tell you something that was a secret in the family between Father and me — and heaven too, of course.” It was obvious that he could scarcely contain the joyous wonder of what he had to tell. “I have been trained already. Not to a professional peak yet, but trained. Every time Father came home he arranged for me to get hours of riding in over the hill at Squire Brompton’s racing stables. You should have seen me on the gallops there!”
“Mercy me!” Judith exclaimed, sitting down in the nearest chair.
Tansy raised her eyebrows in bewilderment. “So you didn’t go along to reload Papa’s fowling pieces when he went shooting with the Squire!”
“I used to join the shooting party after riding,” he explained hastily. “It was the same when Father and I went coursing or out snaring rabbits or fishing in the river. I just used to ride first. Neither Father nor I ever told Mama a lie about it. We didn’t have to, simply because she never knew.”
Nina’s lip curled scornfully. “It wasn’t easy to keep anything from Mama. She was probably getting suspicious, and that was why she was quick to set you to a carpenter apprenticeship last March as soon as Papa left for the season.”
“She was wrong to do it,” Judith said quietly. They all looked at her. Never before had she uttered a word of criticism against their mother, but a new Judith was emerging, almost as if she had found the power to speak out after years of remaining silent in the background. “Everyone should have the chance to live their own lives. I want to see Roger become a fully fledged jockey.”
Tansy, getting over her surprise at Judith’s outspokenness, nodded. “I agree with you.” She turned toward Roger, holding out her hands wide in a warm, expansive gesture. “Without doubt the Epsom district is the place for you. Would the trainer at the Brompton stables give you a letter of recommendation, do you think?”
“I’m sure of it,” he answered promptly.
“You must give me your solemn promise on one thing and one thing alone,” Tansy insisted, seriously.
“Yes, yes! Anything, anything!” He was throwing himself about in his happiness, much like a gangling young colt himself, and he hugged Nina and Judith in turn, and then threw himself down on the sofa with feet outflung as though exhausted already by the excitement of it all.
“You shall see the colt,” Tansy said. “It is right that you should be with me when I discuss the selling of our share to Mr. Reade, but that must be an end of it. You must give me your word that you’ll not ask Mr. Reade for work in his stables. This is all I require of you.”
Roger sat forward and laughed at the simplicity of her request. “I make an oath on it! If the colt is sold I’d have no interest there anyway. There’ll be other racing stables where I’ll find employment. Have no fear about that. I’ll do well, I promise you. I might even be a trainer myself one day.”
He was on his feet again and he crushed her in a jubilant bear hug, making her fear for her ribs, and then he was pacing with a springing step up and down the room, telling them all the still more grandiose plans that were coming into his mind, which ranged from owning a string of race horses to riding a winner in the Derby. She knew she had acted wisely in letting him have his way, and hoped with all her heart she would continue to make the right decisions in the time that lay ahead.
The four of them stayed another half hour in the parlour making plans for the earliest possible departure for Cudlingham, and the morning two days hence was settled upon.
“Provided all goes well with Mr. Webster,” Roger said, suddenly anxious.
“I’ll go to his house straightaway,” Tansy answered.
“I’ll come with you,” Nina said quickly, never having seen inside the Websters’ house and curious to know what it was like.
Roger volunteered to walk Judith home to the farmhouse where she and Nina had continued to be housed since the tragedy, and after Tansy had thanked the Rector and his wife for their hospitality the four of them went their separate ways.
At the Websters’ house, from a window, Adam happened to spot Tansy and Nina approaching and he opened the door to them before they had a chance to ring the bell. His face was serious in deference to the funeral that had taken place that afternoon, but his eyes showed he was glad to see them and went from Tansy to Nina, revealing his deeper pleasure in the sight of her.
“Good evening, Adam,” Tansy said in answer to his greeting. “I’ve come to see your father and Nina is keeping me company. Is he at home?”
“Yes, he is. Come in.” He stood aside for the girls to enter and showed them into the best parlour. It was chill, there being no fire to offset the cold dampness of the evening, a pleated paper fan spread open in the grate. Nina glanced about her before sitting down on a horsehair sofa. Tansy remained standing, facing Adam.
“Thank you for coming to the funeral,” she said to him in a quiet voice. “I saw you at the graveside.”
“What happens now?” he inquired with a genuine concern.
Her face became radiant. “Papa left me a house! A house called Rushmere where we can make a home together again. It’s at Cudlingham in Surrey. Near the town famous for its salts and its racecourse.”
“Epsom, you must mean. That’s splendid news. I know Cudlingham.” Then he corrected himself. “Well, that’s not strictly true. Better to say I rode through it a couple of times when I went with a party of friends to the Derby and we stayed in a tavern in the village of Ewell nearby.”
“Is it a pretty area?” Nina questioned eagerly from the sofa.
He looked blank. “Yes, I think so. We went to the races, y’know, and not to look at the scenery, but there are woods and a fine span of rolling Downs and they say you can see the dome of St. Paul’s in the distance on a clear day.”
“How wonderful!” Tansy said on a satisfied sigh. “That’s why I’m here to see Mr. Webster. I want Roger to come with us. Do you think your father will raise any objections? I’m prepared to pay, of course.”
Adam shrugged easily. “I shouldn’t think he will. Roger has tried hard, but he’ll never make much of being a carpenter. It’s my belief that Father won’t be sorry to see him go. Er — don’t take offense at my plain speaking.”
She raised a hand reassuringly. “Indeed not. We’ve all known that Roger’s heart has never been in it.”
“I’ll tell my father you’re here.�
�� He was gone from the room for a matter of seconds and returned with Mr. Webster, who himself invited Tansy to adjourn with him to his study. Adam and Nina were left alone. He sat down on the sofa beside her. Her large, almond-shaped eyes, a lighter shade than Tansy’s, regarded him with their aloof, enigmatic look that he found fascinating and intriguing.
“I’ll miss you, Nina.”
“Will you?”
He thought with exasperation that she never gave anything of herself away. Either physically or mentally. She had given him no indication as to whether or not she would miss him, and the kisses he had managed to gain from her over the past weeks had been hard won, the few chaste caresses she had allowed even more so. Yet there was a pulsating sexuality in every move she made, every turn of her head, every flicker of her lashes, and it emanated from her like the bouquet of a rich wine. There was gossip about her in the village. There always was about girls who looked like Nina. He remembered hearing it said once that when she was younger she bartered favours to boys of her own age for a silken hair ribbon, a fairing, or pretty buckles for her shoes. He doubted the truth of it, but could not be wholly sure. One could never be sure of anything about Nina.
With a gap of five years between them he had never paid her any attention, scarcely recognized her, in fact. Then one hot September day he had come across the two Marlow girls resting on the grassy slope by the blackberry woods, the baskets full of the fruit they had gathered set down beside them. He knew he would never forget the sight of them there, one sitting a little higher than the other, their muslin skirts billowing lightly in the breeze, and all the brilliance of the sun behind them concentrated in the rich abundance of their marvellous hair, Tansy’s the colour of spun gold and Nina’s fired to a flaming copper-red. Briefly he had stood in indecision, not knowing which of them attracted him more, amazed to discover that while he had been enjoying himself elsewhere these two girls, who had always been overly protected by their dignified but intensely strict mother and made to keep apart from the more rowdy village children, had grown up into young womanhood. Nina had spoken first. “Since you have come all the way up here, Adam Webster, you may carry my basket down for me when I’m ready to go.” That piece of impudence, coming as it had done with that cool, tantalizing look of hers, had tipped the scales. She had offered him a challenge that Tansy had not, a challenge he had taken up with no success, and now she was going away.
He directed his dissatisfaction into a half-hearted expression of envy. “Roger is fortunate to be, escaping from a trade that never suited him. I hope he realizes his luck.”
Nina, who had been counting the objects of silver on display in the room, raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you speak on that note? You wouldn’t change your work, would you? You told me once you had building in your blood.”
“I have.” His mouth tightened, his eyes smouldering. “But I’m not my own master. My hands are tied.”
“Then you should break away.” Her tone was matter-of-fact and she looked from him toward a pink glass epergne that she thought extremely pretty.
He narrowed his eyes at her lovely profile, the curve of her throat, and the high, sweet tightness of her full, young breasts straining against the black cloth of her bodice under her opened cloak. She looked tender and vulnerable in her funeral clothes and the black brim of her bonnet gave her face the innocence of a nun’s. The young animal desire that he felt for her, although not nulled in any way, took on momentarily a gentler aspect, which made him wonder if he was in love with her. The thought had come upon him previously at other times, but he had never given it any serious consideration.
“Suppose I come with you to Cudlingham,” he said, testing her dangerously. His patience was running out. He wanted to know once and for all what her feelings were for him.
Deliberately she chose to misunderstand him. “We shall have no need of an escort when Roger is with us, although it’s kind of you to think of it. It was fortunate that our wagonette in the cottage’s outhouse escaped the fire, and we’ll be travelling in it with Papa’s horse in the shafts. I think it will be an agreeable journey if the weather is kind to us, and Tansy has planned that we take it in easy stages not to let Judith get overtired.” She got up from the sofa and went across to run an exploratory finger along a rosy glass frill of the epergne. “What a charming thing this is!”
She had driven him too far. With a wrathful exclamation he sprang up and went across to grab her by her shoulders, snatching her about to face him. “I didn’t mean just for the journey! I have thought of cutting free from my father many times. Cudlingham would be the ideal place for me to set up on my own as a builder and contractor. I noticed when I was there that whole areas are ripe for development. The Brighton railway line was extended to Epsom itself this year, the first time there has been a railway station nearer Kingston and Croydon, and that means the district is really going to grow with easy travel to London. As it is, Epsom has become rich on the races and grown from a village into a town in a remarkably few years, and there’s no greater magnet for crowds in all England than the racecourse when the Derby is run. I’d make my fortune — not on the horses, but with bricks and mortar.”
She gave a faint, patronizing smile to show she thought his enthusiasm was running away with him. “Have you the financial resources for such a venture?”
“Enough to get started. What do you say, Nina? Let’s start a new life together.”
His words startled them both, the significance of what he had said plunging home. Too late he realized he had made the irrevocable step of offering for her, and the clang of the matrimonial trap seemed to resound in his ears, but then he saw that her reaction was not what he would have expected, something close to panic sharpening her features and making her eyes dilate in alarm.
“What are you talking about?” she gasped.
Then he knew he did love her. He loved her as he had never loved before. There was no going back and he did not care. He lowered his tall head to bring his eyes on a level with hers, smiling into her face, amused to think she should have imagined his intentions not to be honourable, and excited by it, his body stirring, his blood beginning to pound hot for her.
“You and me, Nina — and a wedding ring.” His arms went about her slim, pliant body and he caught her close, crushing her when he felt her involuntary jerk of resistance, and his mouth jammed down on hers, taking from her surprised mouth the kind of kiss he had sought in vain so often before. He had hardly time to savour the warm, moist sweetness of it when she became steel-like in his embrace, thrusting up fists and arms and elbows to wrench herself free of him. They broke apart.
“I’m not in love with you.” Her voice held a note of incredulous shrillness in it as if she were astonished that he should have harboured such an illusion for even the briefest of spells. “Nor do I want to be. I don’t want you anywhere near Cudlingham either, if it comes to that. Do what you like with your life. Don’t try to link yours with mine.”
He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. She was turning him down. And savagely, too. Rage burst within him. Her very rejection inflamed still further his passion for her, he who had never known a girl’s ultimate refusal of anything he had ever wished for. His pride was outraged, his ego offended to the limits of endurance. He wanted to strike her. Wanted to shake her until her teeth chattered and her bonnet fell off and her hair went awry. Wanted to throw her down on the floor and take brutal and bloody possession of her.
She drew back another step from him, not cowering, but alert to all she saw in his congested face. “I’m going on my own way at last,” she cried defiantly, able to think of nothing but the one stark fact that he had wanted to intrude and stake a claim on the lovely new life she was planning for herself amid new surroundings and new people. “I’ve never had the chance before. Far from this village. Far from the tongues of the people in it. Far from you.”
Then he did strike her, catching her a hard blow with the flat of his han
d across her cheek that made a scarlet mark leap to the surface of the pale skin. “Go to Cudlingham on your own and be damned!” he exploded at her. Then he went from the room and slammed the door after him with a force that made everything in the room dance. The pink glass epergne went on tinkling after everything else had stopped, jolted afresh when a second slam in the hall followed Adam’s storming from the house.
Tansy, emerging from the study with Edgar Webster, was in time to see Adam’s coattails disappear into the darkness and guessed immediately that something was severely wrong. Ignoring Edgar’s mutterings about there being no doubt who had closed that door, his son having no respect for anything or anybody, she went swiftly into the parlour and stood with hand on the knob in the open doorway. Nina had drawn the black veil of her bonnet down over her face again, but there was something about the set of her head, the vibrating tenseness of her whole figure that told Tansy that her sister was only a step away from hysteria.
“Mr. Webster has kindly agreed to let Roger go,” Tansy said evenly, as if by keeping all expression from her voice she might lower that tension like a gentle breeze smoothing a rough sea. She did not add then that he had made a show of reluctance to release Roger from his indentures in order to demand greater compensation, pointing out that several months’ tuition had been wasted on the lad. But in the end he had suggested a sum larger than she had hoped for and less than she had feared, so that she had paid out readily and thankfully, Roger’s freedom being all that mattered. “Come along, Nina. We won’t take up any more of Mr. Webster’s time.”
Nina straightened her shoulders, regaining full control of herself again, and moved forward obediently, the veil wafting against her face. As she passed through the full glow of the lamplight it seemed to Tansy that one of her sister’s cheeks held a burning colour, but then the shadows took over and she thought she must have been mistaken.
The Marlows Page 5
