“It is not goodbye, little daughter. I shall see you soon. Soon we shall send for you, and then we shall be together, one happy ‘family, eh?”
Carolan nodded, received his kiss, and was put down. Kitty took her hand and led her away; they kept glancing over their shoulders, and Carolan’s father stood there watching them.
“Now, Carolan, you know!” said Kitty.
“And you see how I trust you?”
Carolan said with dignity: “Of course you can trust me. Mamma! Did he not say that we were one family?”
Kitty pressed her daughter’s hand.
“Dearest Carolan, all through the long years you have been my comfort, my only comfort.”
Tears filled Carolan’s eyes: it was rather wonderful to have been Mamma’s comfort through all the years.
“And very soon we shall be together in our lovely London home, darling. That will be wonderful, eh, Carolan?”
“Yes, Mamma.”
“Oh, darling, how glad I am that I decided to trust you and let you meet your father!”
“I am glad too,” said Carolan.
When they reached the shrubbery, Kitty said: “Let us take off our cloaks now, darling; it would look odd for us to be walking in the grounds, clad in them in such heat, would it not?”
They took them off; while they were doing so. the squire came upon them. Kitty pressed Carolan’s hand to warn her of his approach, and Carolan looked over her shoulder guiltily.
“Ah!” said the squire.
“So my lady wife is taking a walk with her daughter, eh?”
Kitty’s heart was fluttering uneasily under her blue silk dress; Carolan looked at the ground.
“Is there any reason why I should not?” asked Kitty.
“No reason at all,” said the squire.
“I merely remark on the fact because it is so unusual. I believe it is not often with your daughter that you amuse yourself?”
There was an insinuation in his voice which brought a flush to Kitty’s face. She lived fully in the moment as it came along; she had just been with Darrell, and she was believing that for thirteen years she had waited for him, submitting only to the necessary embraces of the squire. It was unpleasant therefore to have that picture of herself wiped out so crudely, and another picture held up for her to see. The others? They had not really counted. She was just affectionate, eager to please, unable to deny; and the poor boys had needed her so badly. There was nothing in that. With Darrell it was different. If she had married Darrell she would have remained a virtuous matron to the end of her days. She was sure of that. The squire pulled Carolan’s cloak out of her hands.
“How well wrapped up you are for such a hot day! Your mother too? Did she think it well to conceal her charms? Of course, of course, her virtue would demand that!”
Carolan very boldly took her cloak from the squire’s hands, but he did not seem to notice he was looking at Kitty. She was dishevelled, but none the less attractive for that; she was shapely still; as for the weight she had put on, he liked it; he never could stand a skinny woman.
Carolan knew that her mother wished her to go, and quietly she slipped from the shrubbery and ran across the lawns to the house and up to her own room, there to stretch herself on her bed and think of the strange things which had happened to her that afternoon.
Meanwhile Kitty faced her husband. How loathsome he was, she thought! He breathed with his mouth open, and the hairs protruding from his nostrils were coarse and black. She hated him and he hated her but differently, for his hate must always be tinged with desire and with the dreams he had had of a life with Bess and then with her.
He came towards her and put heavy hands on her shoulders. He saw a new flush under her skin, and anger only added to the sparkle in her eyes. She was like a girl in love.
He said: “But for the child. I’d say you had just returned from a tumble on the grass with your latest!”
It was his sardonic amusement that made her flush hotly.
“Oh, Kitty, have you?” he said.
“Have you?”
She stepped back from him, but as she did so he stepped forward; her eyes were dilated with fear, the fear that he might have followed Carolan and her, have watched her meeting with Darrell. She wondered what he would do… the brute who, she told herself, had ruined her life; for she had forgotten that she had chosen to marry him as a way out of her difficulties. There was so much he could do; his power was real; he was king in his little neighbourhood. He thought the fear he saw in her eyes was that he might make love to her; it was many months since he had done that. And Dammed, he thought. Why the plaguey hell should I keep off! I married her!
“Come to think of it,” he said, ‘there is a good deal to be said for a tumble on the grass.”
She began to tremble, and that sickness of defeat came over him. He tried to stifle it, tried to be the ruthless squire he liked to imagine himself at times when the sentimental mood was not upon him. But it would not be stifled.
She said coldly: “Keep your coarseness for the serving maids!”
He wanted to shake her. Who had driven him to serving maids? She had! She and Bess between them. He began to whistle, to show her that he did not care for what she said. If he wished to, he would have her as surely as he would have any serving maid that pleased him. But, he wished her to know, it did not please him… not at the moment.
“Do not think I am eager for you,” he said with nonchalance.
“Not me! Too many you have had, my dear. It takes the bloom off, believe me.”
He let her walk past him; he watched her hurrying across the lawns and into the house. It might have been Bessie so alike they were.
Damn Kitty and damn Bess! He kicked the earth under his feet and wondered what he would do. He went to the stables, still undecided, and called to Jake to saddle his favourite horse. Then he rode out of the grounds and into the road, and galloped furiously; the thudding of his horse’s hoofs and the feel of the sweating body between his knees comforted him. He could do what he wanted to with this animal; he almost wished it were not so docile. He would have relished using his whip, but he was too good a horseman to do so without a reason. He wanted to slash out at someone though, so he went to Harriet.
Here he could laugh and be brutal in a clever, subtle way; queer that the prim spinster could give him the comfort denied him by the voluptuous Kitty.
“You’re a wonderful woman, Harry!” he told her. Cruelly he laughed within himself, and if her skin had not been so yellow, he would have kissed her there and then. But he could never bring himself to that; besides, it would spoil the fun. And good fun this was; baiting poor old Harry was as good as baiting a bear or the pitching of two cocks one against the other.
He stayed long with Harriet; he stayed for a meal, sat at the long table in the cool dining-room and carved the saddle of mutton for her. And how she twittered about him, and how she worried that he would defy the proprieties and stay all the evening; how she dreaded he would and longed that he would!
Emm waited on them at table and afterwards brought coffee, and Emm was brown as a berry and smooth too a real country wench, ripe enough, sly enough. He watched her when Harriet wasn’t looking, and he touched her bosom with a careless hand when she bent over him to serve him from the dish of potatoes. She quivered as a horse does; rippling through her body. Ripe and sly, he thought. And his mind was full of Emm as he looked at Harriet, and Harriet saw thoughts there that made her shudder, because she felt they were of her.
He sat, sprawled out in her drawing-room, and the clock ticked on. Inwardly he laughed, and was soothed for the slights he had suffered from Bess and from Kitty. He sat on, drinking elderberry wine until the clock struck ten.
“Good gracious me!” said Harriet.
“Did you hear that, George? Ten of the clock, I do declare, and you with that ride home before you!”
“The ride is nothing to me, Harry.”