ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
.
Читать онлайн.
Lying flat, her left cheekbone in danger of being grazed by the floor, Liza felt tears pricking behind her eyes. She tried to blink them away. She had known this was coming. She had known that, sooner or later, arrangements would be made for her and all her dreams would be destroyed. She had thought she was prepared. But now…
Oh, dear God. Oh, Christopher, my dear love. I can’t bear it.
A few feet away, below Liza, Aunt Cecy was staring coldly at Margaret, who stared back in an equally chilly manner. They all addressed Cecy as Aunt, but she was actually the wife of Nicholas’s oldest cousin, Dick Weaver, who was the son of Great-Uncle Will, the most ancient member of the tribe. Her virtue was as rigid as her backbone, and her backbone resembled a broom handle. Her mouth and body were overthin, and alone among the women of the family she had had trouble giving birth. Her two daughters had been born, with great difficulty, eight years apart, with several disasters intervening. They had both been married off at the age of fourteen and had seemed glad to leave home.
“If that girl b’ain’t wed soon,” Aunt Cecy said now, “her pretty face’ll get lines and her teeth’ll start going. Margaret, do you have to keep on with that everlasting spinning when we’re talkin’ over summat as solemn as this, and what in heaven’s name is wrong with that there chimney?”
“I think birds must have nested in it since the spring-cleaning. We’ll have to clear it. The men’d better lop a branch off that birch tree in the garden to push down it. As for spinnin’, I like keepin’ my hands busy,” said Margaret. “I can spin and talk, and listen.”
Aunt Cecy snorted. Laurence, who had come across the cobbled road with Elena and others of his family, threading their way past the permanent market stalls which occupied the middle of the street, said reasonably, “Never mind the tales. Nicholas here says he’s had an offer. If it’s a good one, where’s the problem?” He was very like Nicholas, with the same hearty voice and the same robust outlook on life. “Even if she has had…let’s be charitable and say a friend—in secret—what of it? Who didn’t, when they were young? All that’ll be over. Who is it you’ve got in mind?”
“Peter Lanyon,” said Nicholas. “Grandson of George, whose burial Margaret and I have just been to.”
“Liza’s older than Peter, isn’t she?” Elena said. “Does it matter, do you think?”
“Er…” said their daughter-in-law, and her husband, Laurie, a younger version of Laurence, grinned. Laurence burst out laughing and so did several of Nicholas’s cousins.
“Our Katy here’s two years older than young Laurie and who cares? Didn’t stop them having twin sons inside of a year!” Laurence said.
“Liza ought to be married,” Nicholas said. “And I’ve called you all in here to discuss this proposal from the Lanyons. Peter’ll do as far as I’m concerned. He’s good-looking and good-natured, and Richard’s offered me a deal. He got me in a corner at his dad’s funeral and put it to me. I’ve a good dowry put by for Liza, but he’s suggested something more. He wants to be cut in to our business. We’ve always bought about half his wool clip—he sells the other half when the agents come round from the big merchants. Now he says we can have the wool for a discount if he can have a regular cut off the profits when we sell the finished cloth and yarn. He asked a lot of questions and we went into another room and he clicked a few beads round his abacus, arriving at a figure. I reckon he’s judged his offer finely. He’ll come out on the right side more often than not. In effect, we’ll pay more for his wool, not less, only not all at once, but…”
“Looks as if he’s takin’ advantage.” Great-Uncle Will didn’t like to walk far, so he spent his days sitting about. At the moment he was in a bad temper because the smoking fire had driven him from the settle by the hearth, where he liked to sit on chilly days, driving him back to his summer seat by the window. His voice was sharp. “We want to get Liza off our hands. He’ll oblige if he’s paid!”
“Quite. We’ll have to look on his cut from our profits as part of Liza’s dowry,” said Nicholas. “Getting the wool cheap won’t offset it, most years anyway. But he also pointed out that once we’re all one family and one business, there are things we can do to help each other. Put opportunities each other’s way—things like introductions to new customers, or brokering marriages. Word to each other of anything useful like new breeds of sheep. He’s thinking to buy a ram from some strain or other with better fleeces. If he does, we’ll gain from that after a while. Meanwhile, we’ll have got Liza settled and she’ll be eating his provender, not ours.”
“You must admit the man’s got ideas,” said Laurence, and Dick Weaver nodded in agreement. “What of the girl herself?” he asked. “Has this been mentioned to her?”
“Why should it be?” demanded Aunt Cecy. “She’d be well advised to do as she’s told.”
“Not yet,” said Margaret. “But she won’t be difficult. When was she ever? She’s a good girl, is Liza, whatever silly gossip may say.”
“She’d better not be difficult. If ’ee don’t get that wench married,” said Great-Uncle Will, “she could get into trouble and then what’ll ’ee do? Get her shovelled into a nunnery while you rear her love child? I’ve heard that there gossip, too, and if there’s truth in it, the fellow can’t wed her anyhow. In orders, he is. That’s what the clacking tongues are saying.”
The entire family, as if they were puppets whose strings were held by a single master hand, swung around to look at him.
“I’ve not heard this!” Nicholas said. “You know who this fellow is that Liza’s supposed to be meeting? Well, who is he and how did you find out so much?”
“Gossip!” said Margaret, interrupting forcefully and snagging her thread in her annoyance. “Liza’s a sensible girl, I tell ’ee!”
“She knows all the ins and outs of the business,” said Nicholas. “I grant you that. She’s handy with a loom and an abacus, as well. She understands figures the way I do and the way that the rest of you, frankly, don’t! But she gets dreamy sometimes. Don’t know where she gets that from. And now folk are asking why’s she still single and is there some dark reason? Sounds to me as if there maybe is and the whispers have something behind them after all! Well, Uncle Will? What have you heard?”
“I sit here by this window on warm days and folk stop to talk to me,” said Will. “I didn’t want to repeat the talk. Not sure I should, even now. These things often fade out if you leave them be. Don’t matter if she’s had a kiss in the moonlight or a cuddle in a cornfield, as long as she don’t argue now.” The fire belched again, swirling smoke right across the room, and he choked, waving a wrinkled hand before his face. “Devil take this smoke!”
There were exclamations of protest from all around. “That won’t do, Great Uncle!” said Nicholas bluntly. “If you know a name, then tell us. Who does gossip say the man is?”
“Young fellow working up at the castle, studying with the Luttrells’ chaplain, that’s who,” said Great-Uncle Will. “I don’t know his name, but I know the one they mean—he’s stopped by to talk to me himself. Redheaded young fellow. In minor orders yetawhile, but he’ll be a full priest one of these days. So he b’ain’t husband material for Liza or any other girl. You get her fixed up with Peter Lanyon, and quick.”
“I can hardly believe it.” Margaret had stopped her spinning wheel.
Aunt Cecy gave her a look which said, I told you you couldn’t keep on with that and attend to this business as well, and said aloud, “Where is Liza, anyway?”
“In the kitchen,” said Margaret. And then