“Well, Miss Renata, that was all very stiff and businesslike. You mustn’t hold it up against me, because I hope we’re going to be friends. Don’t you want to know your plans?”
Jane looked at him with a little frown.
“My plans?”
“What is going to happen to you. Oh, please, don’t look so grave! It’s nothing very dreadful. You have heard of Sir William Carr-Magnus?”
“Yes, of course,” said Jane. She hoped that she looked innocent and surprised.
“Well,” said the man in the fur coat, “I happen to be his secretary, and that reminds me, I don’t believe you know my name. Your father and his friends use a ridiculous nickname which sticks to me like a burr ... but let me introduce myself—Jeffrey Ember, and your friend, if you will have me.”
The charming smile just touched his face, and then he said in a quiet, serious way:
“Sir William’s daughter, Lady Heritage, has commissioned me to find her an amanuensis—companion—no, that’s not quite right either. She doesn’t want a trained stenographer3, or a young person with a business training, but she wants a girl in the house—some one who’ll do what she’s told, write notes, arrange the flowers.... I dare say you can guess the sort of thing. She is willing to give you a trial, and your father has agreed. As a matter of fact, I’m taking you down there to-day.”
“Oh!” said Jane, because she seemed expected to say something, and for the life of her she could not think of anything else to say.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to submit to certain restrictions4 at Luttrell Marches. You see, Sir William is engaged upon some very important experiments for the Government, and all the members of his household have to conform to certain regulations. Their letters must be censored5, and they must not leave the grounds, which are, however, extremely delightful6 and extensive. It isn’t much of a hardship, really.”
“Oh no,” said Jane in her best schoolgirl manner.
And there the interview ended.
They made the journey to Luttrell Marches by car, but, after the manner of Mrs. Gilpin’s post-chaise, it did not pick them up at the door. An ordinary taxi conveyed them to Victoria Station, and it was in the station yard that they and their luggage were picked up by the Rolls-Royce with the Carr-Magnus crest7 upon the door.
The mist was thinner, and as they came clear of London, the sun came out. The day warmed into beauty, and the green growth of the countryside seemed to be expanding before their eyes. So many long hedges running into a blur8, so many miles of road all slipping past. Jane fell fast asleep, and did not know how long she slept.
It was in the late afternoon that they came into the Marsh9 country—great flat stretches of it, set with boggy10 tussocks and intersected by straight lanes of water. Purple-brown and green it stretched for miles. To the right a humped line of upland, but to the left, and as far as the eye could see in front, nothing but marsh. Then the road rose a little; the ground was firmer and carried a black pine or two.
They came to a three-cross way and turned sharply to the right. The ground rose more and more. They climbed a steep hill, zigzagging11 between banked-up hedges to make the rise, and came out upon a bare upland. Ahead of them one saw a high stone wall pierced by iron gates. The car stopped. Mr. Ember leaned out, and after a pause the gates swung inwards.
For a mile the drive lay through a flat waste of springing bracken, with here and there a group of wind-driven trees, then a second gate through a high fencing topped with wire. An avenue of trees led up to the house, a huge grey pile set against a sky full of little racing12 clouds.
Jane felt stiff and bewildered with the long drive. She followed Mr. Ember up a flight of granite13 steps and came into the great hall of Luttrell Marches with its panelled walls and dark old portraits of half-forgotten Luttrells.
Exactly opposite the entrance rose the stairway which was the pride of the house. Its beautiful proportions, the grapes and vine leaves of its famous carvings14, were lighted from beneath by the red glow of a huge open fire, and from above by the last word in electric lighting15.
Ember walked straight across the hall and up the stair, and Jane followed him.
She thought she knew exactly how a puppy must feel when, blinking from the warmth and straw of his basket, he comes for the first time into the ordered solemnity of his new master’s house.
And then she looked up and saw The Portrait.
It hung on the panelling at the top of the stair where the long corridors ran off to right and left, and it took Jane’s breath away—the portrait of Lady Heritage.
Amory had painted more than a beautiful woman standing16 on a marble terrace: he had painted a woman Mercury. The hands held an ivory rod—diamond wings rose from the cloudy hair. Under the bright wings the eyes looked out, looked far—dark, splendid, hungry eyes.
“The earth belongs to her, and she despises it,” was Jane’s thought.
She stood staring at the portrait. Nineteen-fifteen, Henry had said—the year when other women posed with folded linen17 hiding their hair and the red cross worn like a blazon18. She could think of several famous beauties who had been painted thus. But this woman wore her diamond wings, though, even as she wore them, Fate had done its worst to her, for Anthony Luttrell was a name with other names in a list of missing, and no man knew his grave.
A sharp clang of metal upon metal startled Jane. She looked quickly to her right, and saw that a steel gate completely barred the entrance to the corridor on that side. It had just closed behind a curious white-draped figure.
“Ah, Jeffrey,” said a voice—a deep, rather husky voice—and the figure came forward.
Jane saw that it was a woman wearing a long white linen overall, and a curious linen head-dress, which she was undoing19 and pushing back as she walked. She pulled it off as she came up to them, saying, “It’s so hot in there I can hardly breathe, but too fascinating to leave. You’re early. Is this Miss Molloy?”
She put out her hand to Jane, and Jane, with her mind full of the portrait, looked open-eyed at its original.
Afterwards she tried to formulate20 her sensations, but, at the time, she received just that emotional shock which most people experienced when they first met Raymond Heritage.
Beautiful—but there are so many beautiful women. Charming? No, there was rather something that repelled21, antagonised. In her presence Jane felt untidy, shabby, gauche22.
Lady Heritage unbuttoned her overall and slipped it off. She wore a plain white knitted skirt and jersey23. Her fingers were bare even of the wedding ring which Jane looked for and missed. Her black hair was a little ruffled24, and above the temples, where Amory had painted diamond wings, there were streaks25 of grey.
Bewilderment came down on Jane like a thick mist, which clung about her during the brief interchange of sentences which followed, and went with her to her room.
It was a queer room with a rounded wall set with three windows and to right and left irregular of line, with a jutting26 corner here and a blunted angle there. It faced west, for the sun shone level in her eyes.
Crossing to the window, as most people do when they come into a strange room, she looked out and caught her breath with amazement27.
The sea—why, it seemed to lie just beneath the windows!
They had driven up from the landward side, and this was her first hint that the sea was so near.
There was a wide gravel28 terrace, a stone wall set with formal urns29 full of blue hyacinths, the sharp fall of the cliff, and then the sea.
The tide was in, the sun low, and a wide golden path seemed to stretch almost from Jane’s feet to the far horizon. Overhead the little racing clouds that told of a wind high up were golden too.
The humped ridge30 of upland, which Jane had seen as they drove, ran out to sea on the right hand. It ended in low, broken cliff, and a line of jagged rocks of which only the points stood clear.
Jane turned from all the beauty outside to the ordered comfort within. Hot water in a brass31 can that she could see her face in, a towel of such fine linen that it was a joy to touch it, this pretty white-panelled room, the chintzes where bright butterflies hovered32 over roses and sweet-peas—she stood and looked at it all, and she heard Renata’s words, “At Luttrell Marches they will decide whether I am to be eliminated.”
This curious dual33 sense remained with her during the days that followed. Life at Luttrell Marches was simple and regular. She wrote letters, gathered flowers, unpacked34 the library books, and kept out of Sir William’s way.
Sir William, she decided35, was exactly like his photograph, only a good deal more so; his eyebrows36 more tufted, his chin more jutting, and his eyes harder. For a philanthropist he had a singularly bad temper, and for so eminent37 a scientist a very frivolous38 taste in literature. One of Jane’s duties was to provide him with novels. She ransacked39 library lists and trembled over the results of her labours.
Sir William did not always join the ladies after dinner, but when he did so he would read a novel at a sitting and ask for more.
Mr. Ember was never absent, and when Lady Heritage talked, it was to him that her words were addressed. Sometimes she would disappear inside the steel gate for hours.
Jane soon learnt that the whole of the north wing was given up to Sir William’s experiments. On each floor a steel gate shut it off from the rest of the house. All the windows were barred from top to bottom.
She also discovered that the high paling where the avenue began had, on its inner side, an apron40 of barbed wire, and it was the upper strand41 of this apron which she had seen as they approached from outside.
Sir William’s experiments employed a considerable number of men. These, she learned, were lodged42 in the stables, and neither they nor any of the domestic staff were permitted to pass beyond the inner paling.
On the coast side there was a high wire entanglement—electrified.
There were moments when Jane was cold with fear, and moments when she told herself that Renata was a little fool who had had nightmare.
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1
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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2
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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3
stenographer
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| n.速记员 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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5
censored
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| 受审查的，被删剪的 | |
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6
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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7
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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8
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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9
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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11
zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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12
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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13
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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14
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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15
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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16
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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17
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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18
blazon
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| n.纹章，装饰；精确描绘；v.广布；宣布 | |
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19
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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20
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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21
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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22
gauche
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| adj.笨拙的，粗鲁的 | |
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23
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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24
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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25
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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26
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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27
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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28
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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29
urns
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| n.壶( urn的名词复数 )；瓮；缸；骨灰瓮 | |
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30
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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31
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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32
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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33
dual
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| adj.双的；二重的，二元的 | |
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34
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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35
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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36
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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37
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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38
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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39
ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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40
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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41
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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42
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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