by Jean Plaidy
“No, I have heard of him though.”
“Margery. You know something. Tell me. Oh, please tell me.”
Margery was trembling with excitement; she threw her apron over her head and rocked with laughter.
“Margery! Margery! What is it? Do tell me, please.”
Margery brought her apron down to the level of her eyes; she peeped slyly over it.
“It makes me laugh. I reckon that man’s about the biggest handful any woman ever had to look after. Promise you’ll not be too hard on him.”
“Margery! Margery! What do you mean?”
“He’s such a sharp one … sharp as a needle, that’s him! He’ll get on in the world. I reckon he never wanted nothing but what he got it.”
“If you will not tell me…”
“Hoity toity! What airs you give yourself these days! You’ll be setting your cap at the master next. A regular pair you be. A regular pair!”
“Set … my cap at the master! What a ridiculous thing to say!”
“Aye! You laugh at that, me lady. I reckon you’ll be wishing you had someone as reliable and as steady for a lover. There’s something to be said for steadiness, I’ll tell you.”
“What is it you know?”
“Just this. Your fine lover has left his Clementine Smith. He’s with his new friend and partner. He’ll be coming to see you soon. He couldn’t before; the lady was a jealous piece.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you don’t see, don’t you? You ain’t so sharp, are you, me love? Still, I’ll tell you. When he came here, all gay and loving, and looked at you with his heart in his eyes, remember, eh?
“Oh,” he says, “there’s Clementine! Mustn’t keep the lady waiting?” So after having kissed you on the mouth, off he goes home to bed with Clementine Smith.”
“That’s a lie of course!” said Carolan.
“Of course it’s a lie. You only have to look at him to see it. There he goes. A kiss for you and a kiss for Esther and a kiss for old Margery. A bow for Jin and a smile for Poll. He’d give any number of women what they wanted, and all in just as long as it took to get from one to the other!”
Carolan said: “Where did you hear this… this… gossip?”
“Now, no need to get so worked up, dearie. I heard it from James, who had it from one of her servants. There he was, living in the house like the master of it. It was Darling Clementine and Darling William … Why, he even changes his name like he changes his women!”
Margery was disappointed; Carolan was flying into no passion; she had sat down at the table and was picking up crumbs off the cloth with a wet forefinger and putting them into her mouth. True, her eyes burned; so did her cheeks; but she was very still. Margery laid a hand on her shoulder, suddenly penitent. She recalled how she herself had felt on discovering the first infidelity of the pedlar.
“I wouldn’t take, it to heart, lovey,” she said. Then is men all the world over, and there ain’t so much to choose between any of “em.” Carolan said slowly: “So that is where I saw her! I knew I’d seen her before.”
“What’s that, dearie?”
“Nothing.”
“Look here, Margery’ll get Poll to make us a nice cup of tea.”
“If you think to comfort me,” said Carolan harshly, ‘spare yourself the trouble. I always knew the kind of man he was.”
“Poll!” cried Margery. It was Esther who put her head round the door. Poll was doing something in the yard, she said.
“Then you make us a cup of strong tea, will you?” said Margery.
“We’ve just had bad news.”
“Bad news? Carolan …”
A smile touched Margery’s lips. This girl was in love with him too.
“About your friend, your gentleman friend who come into my kitchen and made so free with his kisses, him that was… er… servant to Miss Clementine Smith.”
“Bad news of Marcus?” said Esther, white to the lips.
“Well, not such bad news of him. He gets his fun out of the whole business and asks for more.”
Carolan could not bear the telling to come from Margery.
“Oh, it’s nothing, Esther,” she said wearily.
“Do you remember that woman on the ship? A dark woman who was very angry because we had such freedom when we were becalmed. Well, she was Clementine Smith. Either Marcus must have had some arrangement with her before he came out, or she must have taken a fancy to him on the ship.”
“I gathered that he had been lucky. She took him into her household, and was quite a kind woman, I thought.”
Carolan shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
“Oh, Esther, it is( time you stopped being so young and innocent. She was in love with him. She took him into her house as her lover. I do not suppose she would have taken him on any other terms.”
The colour flowed under Esther’s skin from the open neck of her dress to the roots of her hair.
She’d be lovely, thought Margery grudgingly, if she had a bit more life in her.
“Poor… Marcus!” said Esther.
“Poor, poor Marcus!” echoed Carolan ironically, and got up.
“And where do you think you are off to. Miss?” demanded Margery, feeling that she had not reaped half the fun she had expected from such promising seed.
“I have work to do for Mrs. Masterman.”
Out she walked, like the mistress of the house, and none would guess, except by her heightened colour, that she suffered anything at all.
Margery set herself to enjoy teasing Esther. She conjured up pictures of the lovers to make the girl blush. But it was poor fun, and she kept thinking of Carolan, angry and unhappy upstairs in the mistress’s room.
Carolan was thinking, What a fool I was! I do not seem to learn anything by my experiences. I knew him; I knew what he was, and I believed that it was luck that gave him a soft position in Miss Clementine Smith’s household, driving her horses, while for others it was slavery and the lash. What a fool! And he doubtless laughing at me all the time. His affectionate words have no meaning behind them. He is shameless, graceless. He could come here, speak of marriage to me, when all the time he was living with her, using her for his comfort. All he cares for is his comfort; he will lie, bribe steal for it. What a fool I have been! I should be thankful to have found out in time.
In time? What could ever quell this wild longing she had for him, rogue though she knew him to be? But he should never know how she felt.
Mrs. Masterman had spilt medicine down her satin dress. Carolan took it into the toilet-room and was sponging it when Mr. Masterman came though. He paused in the doorway and said “Oh!” Then he hesitated.
She did not lift her head, for she did not care what became of her now. She wanted something to happen to take her thoughts from Marcus.
“If you wish me to go, please say so,” she said.
There was silence. She went on rubbing the frock, and when she glanced over her shoulder he had taken a few steps nearer to her. She looked at him coldly.
“It is of no importance,” he said.
He stood watching her; at any other time she would have thought this strange but she had no thought for anything but Marcus and Clementine Smith … together.
He ventured: “You … you like the change of work?”
She stopped rubbing and looked full at him. There was the faintest flicker of warmth in his eyes. She disliked his fairness; he had scarcely any eyebrows, so that he had a look of surprise.
“I hated the kitchen work,” she said.
“I can see you have not been used to it, nor work of any kind.”
She was silent, returning to her work; there was insolence in the gesture, as though she were dismissing him, and she was surprised at her own temerity.
“Usually,” he began quite angrily, ‘with convict servants…” and he laid strong emphasis on the words, but faltered after them, for he had seen a tear drop from her eyes on to his wife’s blue
satin gown. She too stared at the tear and made to cover it with her hand. She looked over her shoulder and there he was, disappearing through the communicating door.
Marcus looked in at the window. Carolan was sitting at the table, cleaning silver. Margery shrank into her chair. She was frightened; she wished she had not told.
Esther, at the sink, turned, and what she believed to be a carefully guarded secret was written on her face for all to see.
“Carolan!” he said.
“Here I am!” He was laughing; he had good white strong teeth, and never, thought Margery, was a man more sure of a welcome, never was a man going to be so swiftly disillusioned.
Carolan did not rise.
“Carolan!” he said again with a faint edge of fear in his voice, and leaped into the room.
“Jin!” said Margery, her voice sharp with agitation.
“Poll! Go into the bedroom; it’s shocking untidy. See you get to work, and don’t you dare to stir till I say so!”
They went reluctantly, but Marcus had no glances for them, no smile, no bow. He was looking at the profile of Carolan, turned from him slightly, aloof, those beautiful lashes downcast, hiding the burning fury in her eyes.
“Carolan!” he said once more, and took two paces towards the table. She picked up a silver dish and seemed very earnest about the polishing of it.
“Are you not glad to see me?” he asked, and laid a hand on her shoulder.
She threw him off imperiously.
“Please do not touch me. And please do not look so surprised that I do not wish you to touch me; I am not one of your Lucys and Clementines!”
It was out. She, who had intended to be so cold and haughty, had been betrayed by that tone of hers. He recoiled as if from an unexpected blow. What had he hoped? That she would never discover? To tell her himself some day … years ahead?
I shouldn’t have told, thought Margery miserably. In a minute he’ll want to know who told her, and she’ll tell him, and that’ll be the end of me as fat as. he’s concerned.
“You have been listening to evil tales of me.”
“I have been hearing the truth.”
“Will you not let me explain?”
“I have no wish for more explanation, Marcus. Please go away;
I have this silver to clean.”
He sat on the table. He would work himself out of this, he would, Margery knew it. With most women he’d only have to kiss and say that whoever he had had only made him appreciate her the more, and she’d be weak as water. But not so Miss Carolan. Strong and proud, and ready to cut off her pretty nose to spite her lovely face.
“Listen to me please,” he said, his voice sweet as honey.
“I prefer not to!” she answered, hers acid as vinegar.
“Esther!” he said.
“You will listen to me?”
She came from the sink, wiping her hands. Her delight in him set colour in her face, made it young and very sweet, and her glorious hair was wonderfully beautiful.
Esther said: “Oh, Carolan, you should never condemn unheard.”
“How wearying you are, Esther! You remember Flash Jane, the prostitute on board the convict ship? Here is the male counterpart. How shocked he looks! He need not be, need he, Esther? We have met many of his kind since we entered Newgate.”
“Carolan …” said Esther, almost in tears. The silly little fool, thought Margery, didn’t she see that her only hope was in estranging these two!
He was hurt and angry; he would not look at Carolan now.
He said to Esther: “You have some kindness in you, Esther. You are not the sort to condemn unheard. You cannot understand what I suffered when I was last in this country … the agony, the torture. Things have not changed much; the lash has lost none of its sting; it is applied as heedlessly. Chains about one’s limbs, while one works on the roads in the heat of the midsummer sun! Just enough food to keep a man alive! Misery! Torment! Solitary confinement! Until one has suffered it, how can one understand! To have undergone a second term such as the one I endured before would have finished me, physically and spiritually. Anything was preferable, Esther.”
“Of course,” said Esther.
“I understand. I do. I do. If you repent now, all your sins will be forgiven.”
Carolan said: “He repents now; of course he repents! He has chosen the right moment for his repentance; he probably knew before he left England that he would repent at this precise moment.”
“Oh, please! Please!” said Esther.
“Stop quarrelling!”
“We are not quarrelling. We are not speaking to one another, so how can we quarrel? Why should I bother to tell him that he is despicable!”
Marcus said hotly: “And why should I tell her that she has no softness in her, no loving kindness, no understanding; only a set of stupid morals!”
Carolan laughed cruelly.
“Yes, Esther, of course I am very stupid; but not quite as stupid as some people might think. I am not deceived as easily as some might think to deceive me. Do you remember a certain late afternoon when we lay becalmed in the tropics, Esther, and they seemed to forget that we were convict beasts to be battened down under our hatches? They let us lie on deck. To be sure the sun was unbearable, but we thought ourselves lucky to get a breath of fresh air. Do you remember that, Esther? And do you remember how we talked to him, the two of us, and a dark-haired imperious lady had us ordered below? Do you know why, Esther? She was jealous. She was jealous because he was with us. She was coming out on the convict ship with him because she loved him so much. And when she arrived she saw that he was assigned to her as her servant, her very loving servant. I recognized her or I thought I did when I took coffee in to her and Mrs. Masterman. Now I know. Now it is all clear to me.”
Esther looked at Marcus.
“It is true, Esther,” he said.
“Now she has told you what a rogue I am, will you turn from me ?”
“Very pathetic, is he not!” said Carolan, throwing the words over her shoulder.
A shadow darkened the window then. They all looked towards it at once, and saw a man standing there, a man in a mulberry coloured coat and riding breeches. He was grinning.
“Ah!” said Marcus.
“My friend, my master, Tom Blake.” The corners of the man’s mouth were like the horns of the crescent moon. His teeth were small and white; his eyes small and shrewd; his hair so curly and shiny that it looked grizzled. His age appeared to be somewhere in the early thirties.
“Tom,” said Marcus, with a swift change of manner, ‘meet my friends, Carolan Haredon, Esther March, and Mistress Margery Their guardian angel.”
Margery stood up eagerly. She wondered if he knew she had told; she supposed he might guess. There was no hint of reproach though in his eyes. Was he thinking Mistress Carolan was a virago not worth the pursuit? Was he noticing the loveliness born of love, in Esther’s face? A man such as he was would have known many women; there would have been spirited beauties like Carolan before, like as not; but a modest violet, an innocent little blossom like Esther? They were rare enough! There was a lot of kick to be got out of despoiling the innocent. Didn’t she know it! She had enjoyed her curate.
And now this new man … His eyes went round the room. Carolan, Margery, Esther, and Carolan again! No, no! No man could ever want the modest violet when the rich red rose was his for the plucking.
“You’re Marcus’s friend!” She was throwing sweetness all over her anger, dampening it down, though it smouldered through the sweetness.
“He was telling us about you.”
“Well now!” said the man, and he could not take his eyes from her.
She was for all the world like a lady receiving her guests. The man was of lowly stock; he hadn’t the breeding of Marcus. He was quivering with pleasure at the sight of her; he was wondering why her smiles were all for him.
“Margery,” she said, just as though she were the mistress and Margery rathe
r a favoured servant.
“Margery, couldn’t we have a little celebration?”
It was queer how, if you were a servant by nature, and a lady or gentleman by nature, you slipped into your parts naturally enough, thought Margery. She wanted to say: “Here. This is Mr. Masterman’s house, this is. You’re only a servant… a convict at that! Who are you to give yourself airs!” But she didn’t. She was reckless, and she didn’t care if Mr. Masterman himself came in and found them and took her to task. She had to obey. She was sorry for her, anyway; she was sorry for having told her; because they were made for each other, and heaven knew there wasn’t nearly enough loving in the world.
“All right then, but we mustn’t make too much noise.” The way of entry is a leap over the window-sill.” said Carolan, and he leaped in.
“You are very hospitable,” said Marcus, trying to catch her eye.
Carolan laughed, but she did not look at Marcus.
“If those above knew we entertained our friends, there would be some severe reprimands, I feel sure.”
Tom Blake said hesitatingly: “We wouldn’t want to be making trouble for you.”
His voice had the tang of the Thames in it. Margery thought it was like a breath of fresh air from home.
“Trouble!” said Mistress Carolan.
“Who cares?”
That was her mood, reckless, angry and hurt.
Margery went to the cupboard and brought out a bottle of spirits. I never knew anything like this, she thought. Suppose someone was to come in Suppose Mr. Masterman himself… not that he comes to the kitchen … but it might get to his ears. Convict entertaining convict!
They sat round the table. Marcus was talking to Esther, but it was easy to see he was thinking of Carolan. Carolan talked vivaciously to the newcomer; he was dazed. Margery could see he had never known anyone like her before. His experience of women would have been picked up in Thames-side taverns. His admiration was buoying the girl up while she swam away from the misery of loving Marcus. Margery joined in now and then, though she was content to watch them. It was as good as the play to sit here and watch them, and to know that she was the master-hand behind it all; she had jerked these people into action; in a measure she controlled their movements; it was balm to wounded vanity. Watching, laughing secretly, she forgot that James was missing a night now and then, that his love’ making was getting more casual than urgent.