The Ugly Sister by Winston Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

did not fancy seeing her go off into the servants’ quarters. So with Parish tugging and panting and wanting to stop and snuffle where he chose we walked down through the narrow cobbled streets with the smell of fish and tar and damp rope in our nostrils, keeping an eye on the scurrying clouds, and so almost bumped into my secret lover.
    I had only seen him four times but always he was well-dressed in a raffish way. Blue denim trousers over darker blue waterproof shoes, and a high collared almost naval jacket with brass buttons, a tasselled hat which he pulled off as soon as he saw me.
    â€˜Ministers of Grace! I was just thinking of you, Miss Emma! This very moment I was thinking of you and up you pop like a cork out of a bottle and nearly hole me below the waterline!’
    To my annoyance I had flushed and my tongue would utter nothing at all.
    â€˜And Fetch. Good afternoon, Fetch.’
    â€˜Good af’noon, sur.’
    â€˜I hope your mistress is well?’
    â€˜Thank ’ee, yes, sur. I b’lieve so.’
    â€˜And mongrel. A well-bred mongrel, I’ll be bound. What is his name?’
    â€˜Parish.’
    â€˜What strange names you have at Place! Well, Parish, boy, good day to you too.’ Rather to my annoyance Parish made a great fuss of him, so there was a lot of patting and snuffling and tugging at my lead for the next minute or so.
    â€˜Are you returning home?’ he asked me eventually, looking me up and down with his mischievous, urchin eyes.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And you’re walking? May I accompany you?’
    â€˜We’re crossing at Polvarth.’
    â€˜This far and no farther, eh? I’m content.’
    He fell in beside us and with an authority which further annoyed me, waved Fetch to take the dog’s lead and to fall a few paces behind.
    â€˜You’ve grown ,’ he said. ‘And so much fined off. Is that the expression? You’re now a beautiful girl with a flawed face.’
    I said angrily: ‘So what other discourteous remarks do you wish to make?’
    â€˜Not discourteous,’ he said judicially. ‘ Personal, yes. But such comments show interest, not disinterest.’
    â€˜Do you suppose I care?’
    â€˜Well … any woman would. Find me a girl of any class, from the highest to the lowest who does not care to be thought beautiful.’
    â€˜You did not say that. Nor could you.’
    â€˜Oh, could I not! Challenge me if you dare!’
    We left the last cottage behind and walked down the dusty country lane. A few wild flowers were colouring the hedges.
    He said: ‘This is much like the day I first met you.’ When I glanced at him, he said: ‘ Well, cloud and rain and a fresh breeze. It would be agreeable sailing in the Roads today.’ He was carrying a stick with a round bone handle, and he flicked at a waving bramble. ‘I was impressed.’
    â€˜Impressed?’
    â€˜By the way you handled my little cutter. Or James Biggs’s little cutter, to be precise. You can tell a lady of quality by the way she trims her sails.’
    My anger half turned to laughter but I did not show either. My heart was thumping like one of Mr Brunel’s steam engines. Here this man was, walking down the lane, pretending to flirt with me.
    What was behind it? Did he think that by cultivating Tamsin’s sister he would have a friend at court? I had thought that before, when he had asked me to give her a message. But I had not given it to her, and when they met she must have told him this. Or was it just that he was so predatory a male that he could not resist teasing and flirting with any woman, however disfigured?
    He laughed, showing the uneven white teeth against the olive skin.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜The expression on your face, Emma. You can’t make head or tail of me, can you?’
    â€˜Certainly not head.’
    â€˜Witty as usual. Is it a devil’s tail or a fox’s tail