by Jean Plaidy
“Thank you for that!” said Carolan.
Kitty shrugged her shoulders.
“And what have you been doing recently, Mr. Markham?” she inquired turning the conversation.
“Have you been to the races lately?”
Darrell stirred uneasily in his chair.
“I must explain,” said Kitty to Carolan, ‘that I suspect Mr. Markham of being a gay dog. He is a regular gad-about. He does not mean us to know that, but it slips out. He has been here, there and everywhere!”
“It seems to me,” said Carolan, ‘that Mr. Markham is a somewhat mysterious gentleman.”
“There is no mystery whatever,” said Marcus.
“I am glad of it,” retorted Carolan.
“I do not believe that,” put in Kitty.
“I believe he is a gentleman of fashion… when he is not wandering about Grape Street.”
“Oh,” said Carolan, ‘do you spend your time wandering about Grape Street?”
“Why not? An interesting neighbourhood, is it not?”
“If you have a taste for squalor and poverty, yes,” said Carolan.
Odd, she was thinking, how both he and Jonathan Crew had said they found the neighbourhood interesting. Darrell said: “Marcus came in to buy a ring.”
“Ah!” said Kitty.
“For a lady friend, I’ll be bound!”
“If she will accept it!”
“You see, Carolan, I was right when I said he was a gay dog.” Marcus grinned at Carolan.
“In some society it is necessary to be a gay dog. In other society it is only necessary to be oneself.”
“But,” said Carolan, “the two might add up to the same thing.”
“You are a cyme!”
“Is one a cynic for stating what one believes to be true?” She was trying hard to dislike him, as she felt she ought. He was too bold; he was flirtatious, and with every flicker of his eyes he was telling her that he found her desirable.
“Carolan,” cut in Kitty, ‘you must not take him too seriously. He is trying to impress you with his wickedness. Nowadays to be wicked is a greater asset than to be good.”
“But, Mamma, you said a little while back that it was in your generation that pagans flourished.”
“I am not clever like the rest of you! You tie me in knots. But then I will say this it was not always thought necessary for a woman to be clever.”
Darrell said: “Marcus, come with me to the storeroom. I have something to show you there.”
The two men departed, and Carolan began to gather up the dishes. She paused suddenly and said: “Mamma, who is that man ?”
“That is what I would like to know. He has an air, has he not?”
“I am not sure that I like his airs.”
“No?” said Kitty, oddly piqued and not knowing why.
“One would not expect you to you who have a fancy for parsons!”
“What I meant, Mamma, was why does he come here? Is he one of the rich merchants for whom my father procures goods to sell?”
“That would be most likely,” said Kitty. Carolan went into the kitchen and washed up with Millie. Then she went upstairs and changed her morning gown for one of grey merino with a green belt and green silk at the neck and throat. Her hair was sleek and shining.
“My darling,” said Kitty when she returned to the parlour, “I am parched with thirst; what about making some tea? Doubtless the men would join us.”
“Are they still talking business?”
“They must be. They have been shut up in the basement for an age! I do declare there is no gallantry left in men these days; I have been sitting here for ages waiting for them to come.”
“Mamma! You are a very naughty woman. Why do you think my father works so hard, is so eager to do business? For you, of course! That you may leave this place at the earliest possible moment, that you may have comfort, that you may have the life to which you are suited! And then you accuse him of lack of gallantry because he shuts himself away with a client to talk business. Is it not more gallant, more loving, to try to give you what you want, than to smirk and bow over your hands and say stupid things that have no real meaning?”
“La! How you bully me! And doubtless think me a stupid old woman to boot. Now I must say “Of course, of course, wise Carolan!” And you are right, and I am a foolish old woman … though not really old … not old for a long, long time. And, my dear, I’ll whisper something you look most enchanting! You put me in the shade with Marcus, did you not? I do not like being put in the shade… but as it is my own daughter who does it, perhaps I do not care so much. You liked Marcus, did you not. my child? Oh, do not protest! I saw that you liked him. And how he liked you! How his eyes danced to contemplate you!”
“Oh, Mamma, please! Do you not see that he would make his eyes dance for anything in petticoats?”
“But they danced more brightly for these petticoats, my dear Carolan. How do we know who he is?”
Carolan sighed.
“It is funny! A man only has to appear in Grape Street to be endowed with mystery, with romance, with intrigue. Who is he? What is his business here? Mamma, have you found another nobleman who, tired of the sycophancy of his friends, seeks real friendship in Grape Street?”
“You have a lively tongue, Carolan.”
“But not nearly so lively as your imagination! Now Mamma, let us stop this foolish talk. Mr. Markham is a client of my father’s nothing more. Nor could he ever be to me, however merrily he should make his eyes to dance. Please remember I am engaged to marry Everard.”
“Oh …but a parson!”
Carolan stamped her foot angrily.
“Yes! A parson! And please say no more. Is it not an honourable calling?”
“I would not have dared to stamp my foot at my mother, Carolan!”
Carolan stooped and kissed the soft cheek of her mother.
“But this, dear Mamma, is a new age, and I am far removed from the paragons of your generation, remember.”
“You tease me. Why should I be teased?”
“Because you are an old darling, and it is no use trying to pretend you’re a cross patch. And now I shall prepare the tea.”
Kitty called through the door: “Carolan, you are in love with that parson, are you not?”
“I am indeed.”
Then you shall marry him!”
“Generous of you, Mamma,” chuckled Carolan, ‘but did not your friend Marcus tell you that I would decide for myself? That was a point on which he happened to be right.”
“Wayward child! What a handful you are.”
Carolan came in with the tray.
“I will go and call the men,” she said, and she went through to the shop. The door behind the coats was open, and beyond it was a flight of stone stairs; she went down these.
“Father!” she called.
At the bottom of the steps was a door, and, as she called, this was opened abruptly. Her father appeared; he shut the door behind him as though there were a wild beast in there instead of Marcus.
Tea is prepared, Father,” she said.
He smiled indulgently.
“Not for us, Carolan; we have to go out.”
He stood at the door, watching her mount the stairs.
They are not coming,” she told Kitty.
“It is business.”
“It is always business!” said Kitty, tossing her head.
“But never mind, we can get along well without them.”
Kitty talked. She described the sort of house she would have when they left the shop. She talked of the dresses she would have and those which now filled her wardrobe. Did Carolan think her black velvet could do with a slightly lower neckline? Did her chocolate brown sweep the floor too much?
They heard the men go out through the shop.
“I should have thought Marcus could have called farewell,” said Kitty, pouting.
“He is a strange man,” put in Carolan pensively.
&nbs
p; “Strange indeed. He does not belong to these streets, that I’ll swear; he is here to amuse himself.”
“What an odd way he has of amusing himself then!”
“Gentlemen get tired of the old ways of amusing themselves. The faro table, racing, betting, even love affairs can pall. At any rate a new setting is needed.”
“You think he is here to find a new setting for a love affair?”
“Carolan, how you pull me up. I said no such thing. He is here for novelty; that I could swear to! He is no more of this world of sordid streets and trading than … than … I am. It would not surprise me to hear he was a friend of the Prince himself!”
Carolan laughed, but Kitty turned away from her to pursue a dream. The Prince was being entertained at her house and paying such attention to his hostess that everyone remarked upon it. Why not? Was it not known that it was the matronly charms which he ardently admired?
The shop door bell rang.
They have remembered it is tea-time!” said Kitty. They could not have got much farther than the end of the street.”
Carolan opened the door between the parlour and the shop. Jonathan Crew stood there.
“Good afternoon. Miss Carolan!”
Inside the parlour, Kitty heard that voice and patted her side curls.
“Come in, Mr. Crew! Come in!”
He bowed low over Kitty’s hand.
“But how radiant you look today, Ma’am!”
“I am well enough,” said Kitty.
Carolan poured out a cup of tea and handed it to the guest. He smiled his thanks. How cold his eyes were, after the warm admiration in those of Marcus!
“I was passing,” he said, ‘and I thought I could not do that without calling in to see my very good friends. I did not dream that I should be just in time for a cup of this delicious beverage.”
“We are glad you came at this moment. We have just been deserted by my husband and his business colleague.”
“Indeed, Ma’am. You are very kind to welcome me thus.”
“You take sugar in your tea?” asked Carolan.
She watched him help himself; his fingers were short and stubby; unlike Marcus’s, which she had noticed were long and delicate.
Kitty lay back in her chair. Her mind was still in a rosy dream of the future; the only difference was that she had substituted Jonathan for Marcus. Marcus certainly had an air of breeding which Jonathan lacked, but Jonathan flattered her more. Jonathan, she felt, would if he had such intentions offer Carolan marriage; Marcus might not. Jonathan was safer. Yes, Jonathan certainly fitted into her future very satisfactorily, even if he would not bring the Prince of Wales to dine under her roof.
“So comfortable you are here,” said Jonathan.
“I often think of the cosiness of this little parlour behind the shop.”
“Do you?” said Kitty.
“And might I ask, sir, if it is only of the parlour you think, or do you sometimes spare a thought for its inhabitants?”
Now his eyes were on Kitty, turned away from Carolan; they smiled straight into Kitty’s eyes, glittering oddly.
“You know the answer to that. Ma’am,” he said slowly, and coldly it seemed to Carolan, who could not see his eyes. The Prince, thought Kitty, was not the only man who liked a little maturity in women and found the youthful very tame.
“Indeed,” he turned to Carolan now, ‘this is a most interesting house. I often think that the property in these parts is very interesting… drab as it may sometimes seem.”
Ah! thought Kitty. He is interested in property; perhaps that is his business, and the clerkship he talks of is just a blind. Men who own property are rich men, though they may lack the polish of gentlemen of fashion.
“Perhaps, sir,” said Kitty archly, ‘you know more of such matters than do two ignorant females.”
“I will not allow you to call yourself and your daughter ignorant, Ma’am. But these properties must be nigh on two hundred years old; think of that, Ma’am!”
“That takes us back to the dark ages.”
“It does indeed. I am interested in property; perhaps one day you would be kind enough to show me the house.”
“You would be bored to tears,” said Kitty.
“You would certainly find it rather dull,” said Carolan.
“The matters that interest never bore us. I am interested in old houses. Will you please show me this place … one day? Those narrow windows in your upper rooms have always intrigued me from the street. Tell me, do the ceilings slope right to the floor?”
“In the attics, yes,” said Carolan.
“Ah, my dear,” cried Kitty, “I see that our miserable house interests him far more than we do! Let us show him it.”
“Not more, Ma’am… not more!” he insisted.
“Come along,” said Kitty.
“Now.”
Carolan piled the crockery on to a tray and carried it to the kitchen. As she washed the cups she heard the footsteps of her mother and Mr. Crew mounting the stairs, and she ceased to think of them, for she was telling herself that it was high time she received a reply from Everard.
When she had dried and put away the cups she busied herself with some preparation for the evening meal before going back to the parlour, and she had sat there some time before she realized quite suddenly that the house seemed very quiet. What on earth were her mother and Mr. Crew doing all this .time They were probably in the attics, she thought, and went upstairs to find them. They were not there, and she came down again; she explored the lower part of the house, and they were not there. She peeped into the shop, and stared; for she saw at once that the door, which her father had taken such pains to conceal with those old coats, was open; in its lock was a key. She thought quickly that he must have left the key .there this afternoon when he went out with Marcus, and that her mother and Mr. Crew must have slipped through the parlour to the shop while she was in the kitchen.
She took four strides across the shop, went through the door and shut it carefully behind her.
“Mamma!” she called.
“Mamma!”
The door of the basement-room was open. She looked in. The room was small and dark; there was no window, but a grating high in the wall. There were a good many trunks and boxes in the place, and over one of these bent her mother and Mr. Crew.
Kitty turned and laughed at her.
“Your door was open, Carolan!”
“Oh …” stammered Carolan.
“But this is … Father’s storeroom. He always keeps it locked. He…” Kitty wagged a finger.
“Now, Carolan, you reprimanded me the other day for a lack of curiosity; now you would reproach me with being too curious. You see what an exacting daughter I have, Mr. Crew.”
Jonathan Crew turned, and in the dimness of the room Carolan noticed particularly the white flash of his teeth. He was holding a silver ornament in his hands.
“Mamma!” said Carolan.
“Have you a key then?”
“Oh, no. Your father left the door of his room unlocked and the key in the door at the top of the stairs when he went out Careless man! He must have gone in a hurry. Mr. Crew found the door; he said he saw it when he helped you clear up the Shop.”
“Why, Miss Carolan,” said Jonathan Crew, ‘you seem put out. I hope I do not intrude here-‘ “No, no!” cried Carolan.
“It is of no importance; merely that my mother and I have never been down here before … and my father has always kept the doors locked and…”
“I can understand that! With such articles as these about,..”
Carolan went into the room towards them, and looked at the ornament in Jonathan’s hands. She watched him as he caressed the polished surface. They were ugly hands, red, and cold-looking.
“Ah, yes,” he added, ‘handling articles like this in such a neighbourhood, he would need to be careful. I am sure he is quite unaware that he left the doors unlocked.”
“Both keys were in the do
ors!” said Kitty.
“I shall tease him about this … Naughty man!”
“And did you find the house interesting, Mr. Crew?” asked Carolan.
“Enormously! Beyond my wildest expectations.” They went back to the parlour, and shortly afterwards Jonathan Crew took his leave.
Kitty said: “Darling! Tighten my stays. There now, I have put on flesh. Darling, do you think with Therese that it is in the right places? And how thin you are, child! I do wish you could take some of mine; you could do with it and I should not miss it. It was a great idea to add the niching to the neck, do you not think so, Carolan?”
Kitty regarded her daughter from under lowered lids. Quiet, secretive, brooding almost. Was she, like her mother, wondering whether the life of a parson’s wife was the best she could choose? London did strange things to you; it had done them to Kitty, so why not to Carolan? It was not a town so much as a personality; it intrigued while it repelled. It had fascinated her from the first, and oh, the squalor of those rooms she had shared with Darrell! Lousy lodging-houses and the people in their rags, and the smell of the river and the back streets, and the empty feeling inside, which was hunger, and the lightness in the head which was part of it too. She had been something of a prophetess.
“Darrell,” she had said, ‘we never know what is waiting for us round the corner!” And how right she had been! She, whom they thought just a frivolous woman. For, one day he had come in full of excitement, and told her he had met a friend; she did not know who that friend was, but now she had come to believe that he was Marcus, for from that time Marcus had come to the house frequently enough. A good business proposition had been made to him, Darrell had said, and he was going to take it. It would mean saving hard at first; it would mean living simply, but there was money in it, and after a while they would come out of business and be rich, free from want for the rest of their days.
She patted the niching at her neck. Life was strange, promising a good deal, withholding much. How she had longed for reunion with Darrell I How she had dreamed of it! And now here it was, but he was not the same man with whom, years ago, she had coquetted in a coach; he was not the lover whom she had met in the wood. Ah, no! There were years and years of experience between that man and the Darrell of today. He was moody, easily depressed, and indeed the depression came upon him suddenly, out of the blue, for no reason at all. Kitty wanted gaiety all the time; admiration she wanted, fine clothes to wear, men about her telling her she was beautiful, all that she had been years ago. Since the coming of Carolan life had certainly become more intriguing; there were the outings with Darrell which previously he had not felt inclined to give her; and there was the company. Marcus calling in nigh on every day. And what a man was Marcus. And how his eyes glistened as they rested on Carolan! Who knew, he might abduct her one day. He was that kind of person, she was sure. The love of adventure sparkled in those merry eyes of his, and his long tapering fingers itched to touch Carolan; Kitty knew the signs. There was little of such matters she did not know. Exciting indeed! And Marcus… often dressed so poorly that he looked the typical loafer of Grape Street and its environs; but once when he had come to the shop unexpectedly for a conference with Darrell, she had caught a glimpse of Marcus in the role of an exquisite gentleman of the Town. What fun! What excitement when one was an attractive woman with a daughter who was almost as attractive! What enchanting rivalry! And Jonathan Crew, that strange, quiet man who looked at her so oddly that she felt he saw behind her smile and knew that she was wondering whether he wished to be her lover; Jonathan Crew, who whispered such compliments in her ear and spoke them so strangely that afterwards she wondered whether he meant to compliment her at all; who watched Carolan with a glitter in his queer eyes sometimes, so that she wondered whether after all it was not Carolan in whom he was primarily interested. But then, he had always contrived not to come when Darrell was about, which rather showed he had his eyes on Darrell’s wife.
