Jalna: Books 1-4: The Building of Jalna / Morning at Jalna / Mary Wakefield / Young Renny Read Free Page A

her, in all its ruchings and narrow velvet edgings. Above her tiny waist her round breasts rose, supporting a mass of lace, caught by turquoise pins and little velvet flowers. Her shoulders glistened in lovely pallor in the candlelight. Just touching her neck her auburn curls descended from her heavy chignon. Philip saw her beauty but hesaw also the thinness of her arms, the too vivid redness of her lips and brightness of her eyes. He rose and pulled the bell cord and, when a servant appeared, ordered the stout.
    She had given up the song. Now the tune had quite eluded her but she found it hard to settle down. She drew back the dark red curtains and looked down into the street where the gas lamps made pools of light on the wet pavement and the cab horses clip-clopped past with draggled manes and rain-soaked harness. The mysterious lives of the people in the cabs filled her with a strange longing. She turned to Philip.
    “We shall sometimes come back, shan’t we?” she asked.
    “Of course we shall. I’ll engage to bring you back every second or third year. We are not going to bury ourselves in the wilds. And don’t forget New York. We will visit it too.”
    She threw her arms about his neck and gave him a swift kiss.
    “My angel,” she said. “If I had to go to bed tonight with anyone but you, I’d throw myself out of that window.”
    “And quite properly,” he observed.
    They drew apart and stood in decorous attitudes as the man-servant reappeared with the refreshments. He laid a snowy cloth on an oval, marble-topped table and then set out several bottles of stout, biscuits and cheese, a cold pigeon pie for Philip and a small bowl of hot beef extract for Adeline.
    “How good it looks!” she exclaimed, when they were alone. “Do you know, I’m getting my appetite again! D’ye think I dare eat some of that cheddar cheese? I do love cheese!”
    “What expressions you use! You love
me
and you love
cheese
! I suppose there’s no difference in your affection.”
    She laughed. “You old silly!” Then she pressed her hands to her sides. “But really, Philip, you will have to unlace me before I attempt to eat or I shall have room for nothing but a biscuit.”
    As he helped her with the intricate fastenings of her dress, he said seriously — “I cannot help thinking that this tight lacing is all wrong. In fact the doctor on shipboard told me that it is responsible for many of the difficult births.”
    “Very well,” she declared, “when we are in Canada I shall leave off my stays and go about like a sack tied in the middle. Picture me in the wilds! I am on a hunting expedition. I have just trapped or shot a deer, a beaver, or something of the sort. I am on my way home with my quarry slung over my shoulder. Suddenly I am conscious of some slight discomfort. I recall the fact that I am
enceinte
. Possibly my hour has come. I find a convenient spot beneath an olive tree —”
    “They don’t have ’em there.”
    “Very well. Any tree will do. I make myself comfortable. I give birth to the child, with scarcely a moan. I place it in my petticoat. I resume the burden of the deer or beaver on my back. I return home. I cast my quarry at your feet and my infant on your knee. ‘By the way,’ I remark, ‘here’s a son and heir for you!’”
    “Egad! That’s the way to do it.” He struggled with the hooks and eyes. “There — my angel. Out you step!”
    The blue taffeta fell in bright cascades to the floor but the crinoline still stood out about her lower half, above which her tiny waist appeared as a fragile support for bust and shoulders. Somehow he got her out of the crinoline, the petticoat, and the many-gored corset cover but he had a time of it with the corset lace, which had tied itself in a tight knot. His fair face was flushed and he had given vent to an oath or two before she stood released and graceful in her shift. He gave her an abrupt little push instead of the kiss she expected, and said: