"I'd like to do it for you, Harriet.”
"Well, George! Well!”
Coy as a schoolgirl, and immensely gratified! He felt suddenly flat.
"I'll be getting along, Harriet. I'll send Jennifer in to meet the girl' She stood at the door, watching him go striding out to his waiting carriage. Why, she wondered, had he not spoken? She had been sure he was going to.
Leave-taking was difficult. They sat side by side in the coach now, their hands touching.
Darrell whispered: "I shall be thinking of you every minute until I see you again.”
"And that will be soon," she answered.
He knew her aunt's house. It stood back from the road, and near it was a little wood; if she came out of her aunt's house and turned right she would see the wood. It would shelter them for their first meeting, and .that should be tomorrow evening at eight o'clock. It would be better to wait for evening. He would come to her on his uncle's chestnut mare, and wait for her just inside the wood; he would tell her what his Uncle Gregory had said about their marrying, because that was a matter he would discuss with him at the earliest possible moment.
"It is not real parting," said Kitty, and smiled up at his clear-cut, handsome face and rather delicate features.
The coach rumbled on. The merchant and the matron were discussing Exeter, and every occupant of the coach was excited because they were nearing the end of the long journey. Under cover of such conversation it was possible to exchange vows of eternal affection.
"I thought you were wonderful, when I first saw you. I could just see your mouth; your hat hid the rest of your face." She laughed softly and pressed closer to him.
"You stared so!”
"How could I help that?" he murmured.
"And Kitty ... now I have got to know you I've learned that you are more wonderful than I ever thought anyone could be.”
He kissed her ear, and they laughed and laughed round the coach. Had anyone seen? Who cared if they had.
The coach rumbled into Exeter and pulled up in the inn yard. The door was flung open.
"Perhaps," whispered Kitty, "I had better not introduce you to-my aunt... yet. Perhaps it would be better to wait a while and see...”
There was bustling to and fro whilst the luggage was unloaded. Kitty stood with her bags beside her, looking around her for Aunt Harriet.
A woman was coming towards her a small woman in a dark cloak and hood.
She stood before her; she had sharp, darting black eyes.
"Are you Miss Kitty Kennedy, who is on her way to Miss Rams-dale?”
"Why, yes. Are you... my Aunt Harriet?”
Laughter shook the thin shoulders momentarily.
"No. But I have come to meet you. I have a carriage here to take you to your aunt's house." She looked round and beckoned; a man came and picked up Kitty's bags.
Kitty turned and smiled at Darrell who had stood by, watching. His face looked bleak, she thought, but there was no time to ponder on that, for her companion was hurrying her into a carriage.
The door slammed. The woman sat back, studying Kitty, and Kitty studied her.
She had thrown back the hood of her cape and disclosed dark, rather frizzy hair; her brows were dusky, her dark eyes large yet alert. Kitty felt them taking in every detail of her appearance. She wondered if she were a servant of her Aunt Harriet's; her manner was a little arrogant, hardly that of a servant.
The carriage rolled out of the yard.
"Do tell me your name," said Kitty.
"Jennifer Jay.”
"And my aunt...”
"I have come to meet you on Squire Haredon's behalf." She stopped, watching the colour flood into the girl's face.
"But," stammered Kitty, 'why? I was going to my Aunt Harriet...”
"So you are. But Squire Haredon thought it would be helpful ... to your aunt... to send his carriage.”
"I see. He is very friendly with my aunt?”
A scornful smile twisted the woman's mouth.
"He has known her for a number of years." Jennifer leaned forward.
"I expect you are very like your mother.”
"I am supposed to be. You knew my mother?”
"Hardly! She left this place years ago, did she not? I am twenty-one.
Besides, I did not live here as a child.”
"It was good of Squire Haredon to send his carriage.”
"He is a generous man... at times," said Jennifer.
Yes, she was thinking, why had he gone to all this trouble for Harriet Ramsdale? She wanted to marry him, the sly old virgin! And she thought no one knew it. She, Jennifer, knew it; even those half-witted sluts, who worked for her, knew it. The squire knew it; there were times when she could almost get him to laugh with her over it. There were times when it was possible to get almost anything out of the squire. But he was hot tempered; the last time she had mentioned Harriet's name he had shut her up roughly; she had thought he was going to strike her. It wouldn't have been the first time, brute that he was, Like a great bull sometimes, rushing at you angrily ... and then getting amorous. A smile lifted the side of her mouth.
And now this niece. Disdainful beauty! He would surely be impressed, but he wasn't the sort to press where he wasn't wanted. And who was the young man with the girl when she had got out of the coach, looking at her with those dove's eyes? This was going to be exciting, if a little dangerous.
It might be a good idea to find out all she could. Knowledge usually came in useful. She had a sharp tongue it was one of the things which amused the squire. It was an easy matter to get into his bed; any kitchenmaid could do that; the art lay in staying there.
"You had a pleasant journey?" she asked conversationally.
"Good companions?”
"Very.”
"I thought one of the young men who got out of the coach looked as if he might be a charming travelling companion." How easy it was to make her blush.
Did you?”
"Yes. I thought he had specially friendly glances for you.”
"I think," said Kitty slowly, 'that you must be referring to Mt. Grey.
His uncle, he was telling us, lives in Exeter.”
"Mr. Grey ... I do not know him. You see, I came here only four years ago. I don't know Mr. Grey, but as I said, he is a personable young man and, I should think, a pleasant travelling companion.”
She would garnish the story of this journey she would tell the squire with a description of the flushing young woman who had perhaps been a little indiscreet with a handsome Mr. Grey. She could always make Haredon laugh, and when she made him laugh she was the mistress of the situation ... always. She even thought at such times that he really was imagining her at his table, entertaining his guests; after all, it would soon be forgotten that she had come to his house as governess to his children and had been his mistress before she became Ms wife.
Kitty said quickly, to turn the conversation from Darrelclass="underline" "And you... you are a friend of Squire Haredon's?”
Jennifer's head tilted proudly.
"I am in charge of his children.”
"That must be interesting. Tell me about the children.”
"There are two of them. Margaret is nearly two years old; Charles is five.”
Kitty smiled encouragingly. It was more pleasant to think of the squire as a family man.
"I am fond of children; and you must be too. since you have chosen the task of taking care of them.”
"I did not choose it it was thrust upon me. I was at a school for young ladies when my father died suddenly. It was a shock to me to learn that I was penniless. There was nothing to do but earn my living it had not been intended that I should so I acquired this post!
Margaret was not born then." Her eyes were sly, Kitty thought, and wondered what made them so. Jennifer was thinking of her arrival at Haredon, and of the interest she had aroused in the squire right from the beginning; hotly pursuing in those days; quite gallant; now he blew hot and cold. She had been sorry for poor Amelia, but that had not stopped her from thinking of Amelia's husband. Amusing! Great fun. keeping him at bay! He could be so angry when frustrated; he had no finesse, the great bull! But when Amelia had died that had seemed like fate. Good God, she needed luck. He would marry again. Weakly, but with an element of cunning, she gave in to him; she had thought that was the way. Perhaps it was; she wasn't sure. She had that in her which could enslave a man ... up to a point. She looked at the girl opposite with faint contempt. She was too sure of her beauty, that girl, to think of much else, and beauty was not all-sufficient; wit came into it; the power to make a man laugh, to find the vulnerable spot. Cleverness was every bit as important as beauty. When she thought of that she was stimulated.