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

that you see?’
    It came into my mind to say ‘a monkey’s’, but I just did not dare.
    He glanced behind to see that Fetch and Parish were following at a discreet distance. ‘Do not try to understand me. That way one’s own notions add to the confusion. I am really very easy to understand. My wishes, my hopes, my needs are plain to be seen. As clear as water. As clear as gin.’
    We were nearly at the ferry. Tregrundle stood with his new boat ready. It was half tide and one would only need a dozen strokes. I was short of breath. I half turned to wait for Fetch, but he caught my elbow.
    â€˜I want you. As clear as clear. Think on it, little Emma. Now I have exceeded all good taste. All the frilly lace curtains of convention are torn to ribbons. Blown quite away. Polite words are not in me. Shall I ever be forgiven? Not, I’m sure, for this utter disgrace.’
    â€˜Please leave me alone!’ I pulled my elbow free.
    As he turned to Sally Fetch his face was quite expressionless. We might have been talking of the next regatta.
    â€˜Come along, Fetch, your mistress is waiting.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Dutiful respects to your sister and your mother, Miss Emma; it has been a privilege.’ He turned and left us, and we stood and watched him walking back the way he had come. Parish barked a farewell.
    We still stood there.
    At length Fetch said: ‘I wouldn’t trust ’im, miss, no further ’n I could spit!’
IV
    W HEN WE reached Place a guest had called. He was an old man of about fifty, a clergyman and relative, Canon Francis de Vere Robartes, who had come over from Blisland at the foot of the Cornish moors, where he was the incumbent, to visit the two invalids. A great-greatgrandfather Spry, according to Desmond, who made a study of these things, had lived at Blisland and had been an attorney-at-law, practising in Bodmin and Plymouth. Canon Robartes was a distinguished cleric and had made a new translation of the Apocrypha . He was not well to do, but had good family connections, and he was disappointed to find only one invalid here and she an active convalescent, anxious only to talk about Clive and David, who had appeared to her in a dream last night.
    So he had to make do with Mama and Desmond and Mary and me. Tamsin was out sailing. What she would have given to have been walking with me in St Mawes! (What he had said! – it was a vulgar ribald jest surely – he could not have been even a quarter serious ? My flesh crept.)
    Canon Robartes took tea but refused an invitation to sup. He would sleep at Tregothnan, he said, and go to see the Admiral in the morning. When he was leaving a name caught my ear as he talked to Desmond. The name of a man who came and mesmerized us six months ago.
    Apparently there had been a meeting at Bodmin among the landed gentry last week about the prospect of building a railway between Bodmin and Wadebridge, and a Mr Brunel had spoken at it. The idea was that the railroad should be eight miles long, with a six-mile extension to Winford if the line were a success. It would be chiefly for the transportation of goods and ore, but passengers might be taken on later. The type of propulsion had yet to be decided. Most favoured a form of steam power, probably by means of an engine drawing wagons, as was usual following the success of the Stephensons; but Mr Brunel had proposed having stationary engines at intervals along the line and drawing the trucks by atmospheric suction. It had been a most interesting meeting, Uncle Francis, as he told us all to call him, said. He had only been invited to deputize for young Mr Agar-Robartes of Lanhydrock, his cousin, who was travelling in Europe. He himself, as everyone knew, had to depend on his stipend, and had no spare resources to invest in such hazardous schemes. Mr Brunel, he had to admit, was most impressive for one so young and already had a number of achievements to his credit.
    The