Read Online And Be Thy Love by Rose Burghley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rose Burghley
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monsieur”she greeted.
De Bergerac addressed her with his most attractive smile.
“We’re here, Monique, and I know you’re not going to let me down, are you?” looking down confidently into the slightly—in fact, rather curiously—awed brown eyes. He introduced Caroline. “This lady has been ill, and she must be looked after. I know you can do it excellently, Monique.”
Monique looked long, and rather carefully, at the English girl “Mademoiselle looks pale and spirituelle” she announced, at last. “She has undoubtedly been very ill!”
“Oh, I’m much better now,” Caroline assured her, smiling.
“But, all the same, it is as well to take care! The good Marthe has already told me all about you and your illness.”
“Oh!”
Caroline felt a little awkward, knowing that she had been discussed.
Then, round the side of the house, came a small child struggling along with an enormous cat in his arms. At first Caroline thought he was a girl, for he had such a curly mass of honey-blond hair, but on depositing the cat at her feet she discovered that there was something essentially sturdy and masculine about him. “I am Thibault,” he told her, “and this is Jacqueline, my cat. Jacqueline has had many kittens, but we have drowned the lot!”
“Except the very last lot,” put in a thin, elfin-like girl with a wispy fringe and the most solemn grey eyes Caroline had ever seen in her life. They were positively luminous grey eyes, and they were fixed upon her face. “I had one for myself, and the others were given away.” “Were they, indeed, Marie-Josette?” de Bergerac barely murmured, and the small girl turned, and simply hurled herself upon him. Her thin arms went round his neck until he was almost strangled, and even her undernourished legs went round him and held him tight—until her mother dragged her away with ferocious scoldings.
“Marie-Josette, how could you?” she demanded. “Monsieur’s fine clothes to be spoiled by the muck of the garden and the pig-house! What has come over you?”
But de Bergerac laughed, and snatched her back from her mother, and Marie-Josette shrieked with delight as he swung her round the garden, and she felt like a suspended ballerina in his hold. When at last he set her down she was pushing the fringe out of her eyes and glowing with unexpected happiness, and the happiness was increased when he solemnly mentioned that there was a present in the car.
“In the left-hand pocket,” he said, and both children hurled themselves upon the left-hand pocket of his car, their eager voices calling aloud that he had brought them a present.
The present turned out to be quite a large box of expensive confectionery, and Caroline saw Monique brush something suspiciously like moisture from her eyes as she watched the excitement of her small family, while the man who had caused it stood by with a faint, amused smile on his lips.
“You are too good, monsieur.;” she said, “too good!” and used a corner of her apron to intercept one of the drops that persisted in rolling down her cheek.
“Nonsense,” he returned, and ruffled the wispy hair of Marie-Josette, now decorated with the ribbon from the box of confectionary. “It is impossible to be too good in this world, isn’t that so, ma petite? One spends all one’s time attempting to be even slightly good!”
Monique tried to persuade them to go inside and allow her to make them some coffee, but de Bergerac said Miss Darcy had had a long enough outing for one day, and that she ought to get back and rest in her room. Monique agreed that Miss Darcy must certainly rest, and promised that as soon as she had tidied up her house and dealt with the washing on the line she would be along at the chateau, and would pick up Marthe’s discarded reins until such time as Marthe herself should return to grasp hold of them again, or monsieur should decide she was no longer needed.
The two children would accompany her, she had to
De Bergerac addressed her with his most attractive smile.
“We’re here, Monique, and I know you’re not going to let me down, are you?” looking down confidently into the slightly—in fact, rather curiously—awed brown eyes. He introduced Caroline. “This lady has been ill, and she must be looked after. I know you can do it excellently, Monique.”
Monique looked long, and rather carefully, at the English girl “Mademoiselle looks pale and spirituelle” she announced, at last. “She has undoubtedly been very ill!”
“Oh, I’m much better now,” Caroline assured her, smiling.
“But, all the same, it is as well to take care! The good Marthe has already told me all about you and your illness.”
“Oh!”
Caroline felt a little awkward, knowing that she had been discussed.
Then, round the side of the house, came a small child struggling along with an enormous cat in his arms. At first Caroline thought he was a girl, for he had such a curly mass of honey-blond hair, but on depositing the cat at her feet she discovered that there was something essentially sturdy and masculine about him. “I am Thibault,” he told her, “and this is Jacqueline, my cat. Jacqueline has had many kittens, but we have drowned the lot!”
“Except the very last lot,” put in a thin, elfin-like girl with a wispy fringe and the most solemn grey eyes Caroline had ever seen in her life. They were positively luminous grey eyes, and they were fixed upon her face. “I had one for myself, and the others were given away.” “Were they, indeed, Marie-Josette?” de Bergerac barely murmured, and the small girl turned, and simply hurled herself upon him. Her thin arms went round his neck until he was almost strangled, and even her undernourished legs went round him and held him tight—until her mother dragged her away with ferocious scoldings.
“Marie-Josette, how could you?” she demanded. “Monsieur’s fine clothes to be spoiled by the muck of the garden and the pig-house! What has come over you?”
But de Bergerac laughed, and snatched her back from her mother, and Marie-Josette shrieked with delight as he swung her round the garden, and she felt like a suspended ballerina in his hold. When at last he set her down she was pushing the fringe out of her eyes and glowing with unexpected happiness, and the happiness was increased when he solemnly mentioned that there was a present in the car.
“In the left-hand pocket,” he said, and both children hurled themselves upon the left-hand pocket of his car, their eager voices calling aloud that he had brought them a present.
The present turned out to be quite a large box of expensive confectionery, and Caroline saw Monique brush something suspiciously like moisture from her eyes as she watched the excitement of her small family, while the man who had caused it stood by with a faint, amused smile on his lips.
“You are too good, monsieur.;” she said, “too good!” and used a corner of her apron to intercept one of the drops that persisted in rolling down her cheek.
“Nonsense,” he returned, and ruffled the wispy hair of Marie-Josette, now decorated with the ribbon from the box of confectionary. “It is impossible to be too good in this world, isn’t that so, ma petite? One spends all one’s time attempting to be even slightly good!”
Monique tried to persuade them to go inside and allow her to make them some coffee, but de Bergerac said Miss Darcy had had a long enough outing for one day, and that she ought to get back and rest in her room. Monique agreed that Miss Darcy must certainly rest, and promised that as soon as she had tidied up her house and dealt with the washing on the line she would be along at the chateau, and would pick up Marthe’s discarded reins until such time as Marthe herself should return to grasp hold of them again, or monsieur should decide she was no longer needed.
The two children would accompany her, she had to
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