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Authors: Sara Seale

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BOOK: Green Girl
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There

ll be trouble later on,

Duff observed, unamused by the antics that caused Harriet so much pride in her
protégé
.

If, when the time comes, you allow that unspeakable cur to mate up with Delsa, I

ll have him out of here in double-quick time, so I

m warning you.


It would certainly be a love-match,

Harriet replied in a moment of rashness, gazing with fond eyes at Uriah

s rapt expression while the bitch licked him all over, and jumped guiltily when Duff retorted with sharp displeasure:


For heaven

s sake, Harriet, don

t carry your absurd romanticism to extremes! Love-match indeed! Animals are no more concerned with love when their natural appetites are aroused than the average male is.

He saw the innocent pleasure drain out of her face and, although cursing his own clumsiness, he blamed it on that irritating naiveness of hers which could make a rather silly remark sound deliberately provoking.


I

m sorry,

he apologised,

I didn

t mean to be quite so crude, but sometimes you display a simplicity that makes me want to shake you.


Simplicity doesn

t necessarily mean half-wittedness,

she said gently.

You

ve made it clear before that love isn

t important when natural instincts just boil down to common desire. I quite understood.


You

re an odd mixture,

he said, sounding puzzled and a little uncertain of himself.

One minute you

re an uninformed child and the next you come out with some curious snippets of wisdom.


I

m not at all wise. I

ve no experience, you see,

she said, and he smiled at her with a touch of tenderness.


Well, that should make you very rewarding material for the right man,

he said, and she realised then how often he must forget the implications of their relationship.


But I

m already married,

she said, and saw him frown as if he had just remembered the fact.


Yes, well ... I wasn

t suggesting another Mr. Right might come courting you in the future,

he replied rather shortly, but she smiled, knowing he had forgotten for that moment. His remark had been just the kind of indulgent assurance a fond uncle might have given to a doubting niece.


And the future,

he added, seeing and unwillingly interpreting the smile,

may hold surprises in store for both of us.

With a complete change of mood, Duff asked,

Do you like Samantha?


Yes, I do. She alarmed me a little at first because she

s so very elegant and assured, but she

s different when you get to know her, and she

s been very kind to me.


H

m
...
when Samantha

s being kind, she

s usually feeding her own ego, so don

t be lulled into a false conceit of your importance,

he said with dry ambiguity, and she
remembered that odd impression of antagonism he had given her before.


Why don

t you like her?

she asked.


Have I said I didn

t?


No, but—well, perhaps I just got the wrong impression.


You

ve collected a whole heap of wrong impressions since you

ve come to Clooney, haven

t you, my child?

he retorted and she wondered whether he was warning her yet again not to concern herself with affairs of the past.

Samantha, on the other hand, showed no such disinclination to satisfy a natural curiosity when next they met.


I wondered when you

d get around to asking about Kitty,

she said, a ripple of amusement warming her husky voice to a pleasant promise of feminine gossip.

What exactly has Duff told you?


Nothing, except to keep my nose out of what doesn

t concern me,

Harriet said, feeling suddenly injured, and Samantha laughed.


Duff would!

she said.

Wait a moment, honey, while I order another round of drinks, then we

ll really let down our back hair.

They were sitting in a
corner
of the saloon bar of the Knockferry Arms, drinking sherry and hungrily consuming sandwiches, having driven into the town to gratify Harriet

s desire to taste again the colourful novelty of market day.


I

d thought,

Harriet said, when the drinks had been brought to their table,

that Duff couldn

t bear to talk of his first wife, perhaps. Agnes says—



that his heart

s buried in the grave—I know! It

s a conventional tag servants like to tack on to a widower, and Duff certainly played up to popular opinion, shutting up the Castle and taking off into the blue.


But surely that only shows—


It shows remorse, perhaps, because, having got his wife with child, thinking that would settle her, it killed her, but not love. He realised his mistake too late. He should have married me, you see.

Samantha was watching Harriet with bright anticipation, but if she had hoped to jolt her into embarrassment or dismay, she was to be disappointed. To Harriet, the disclosure was neither startling nor upsetting, but only seemed to
explain that odd reserve in Duff which
sh
e had taken for dislike.


You mean he was engaged to you first?

she asked.


Oh, no—I just misjudged my moment,

she replied.

I was playing hard to get, you see, and hadn

t allowed for pretty Kitty, or Kitty

s matchmaking parents—my own uncle and aunt, incidentally.


So?


So—Duff came down for the Horse Show Week that year and there were the usual junketings, with Duff and Kitty paired off for every occasion. I, being young and foolish and much too sure of myself, went off on a visit elsewhere to keep Duff guessing, and Kitty got him.


But was he in love with you?

Harriet asked, unable to understand how such a situation could come about unless as the result of a lovers

quarrel.

Samantha

s smile was slow and secretive.


Not then,

she said.

He wasn

t in love with Kitty, either—just flattered by her rather popeyed admiration, I suppose, and in a mood for marriage. Her parents pushed it for all they were worth, of course, rather fancying the idea of a castle, and Kitty just did as she was told; a whirlwind courtship and then the reckoning. Duff sticks to the pattern, doesn

t he, darling? Let

s hope you, too, won

t
l
ive to repent at leisure.


Was she like you—your cousin, I mean?

Harriet asked to avoid a direct comment, and Samantha shrugged.


Oh, she was pretty enough in a conventional chocolate-box fashion, and there was a vague family resemblance, I suppose. She didn

t really want Duff—she wanted Clooney, and she wanted to score off me. We used to come up here and stay with Aunt Alice when we first left school, and Kitty would moon about the Castle and picture herself as a sort of romantic Lady Bountiful handing out largesse to the grateful tenants. It didn

t work out like that at all, of course. The tenants weren

t grateful for half-baked advice on the running of their homes, and Kitty soon got bored with her ivory tower and made tracks for Dublin and a bit of gaiety. She

d always been the spoilt child, and when Duff couldn

t or wouldn

t show her the good times she expected, her parents took against him and made a lot of mischief.
They never forgave him for Kitty

s death, and have done their best to wean the child away—not difficult when she makes out her father neglects her.


Does she?


Well, what do
you
think? Nonie

s no worse than any other child who

s cute enough to seize an opening for self
-
dramatisation, I suppose, but personally, I can

t stand the brat—what I remember of her. Have you made your number yet as the new stepmama?


No. Duff thought it best to wait till she comes home for the holidays.


It

s a wise man that knows his own child, to reverse an old proverb. I wish you joy, honey!

Harriet finished her sherry and absently bit into another sandwich. She was not, as yet, particularly disturbed by the prospect of having to deal with an awk
w
ard little girl, but Samantha

s own admissions
s
eemed oddly inconclusive.


Why didn

t Duff marry you when he was free?

she asked suddenly.


For the simple reason that I

d got myself wed in the meantime,

she
said.

Bad timing again, you see.
I married on the rebound as they say in the novels, and serve me right for not being content with what I had. After all, half a loaf is better than no bread at all, or wouldn

t you agree?

Harriet made no answer, her thoughts following a line she did not care for. Was Samantha implying that she and Duff had been having an affair while Kitty waited for her baby?


I see you don

t,

Samantha observed with amusement.


Don

t what?


Agree that half a loaf is better than no bread. An adolescent viewpoint, honey, and one I

d advise you to revise for your future comfort.


Are you trying to tell me that you still want Duff?

Harriet, asked, and Samantha

s eyes were amused.


Oh, come now, darling, I

m hardly as crude as that, though you must admit that in the event of you being right, I

m at least honest and playing fair. You

re not in love with Duff or he with you.


No.


How refreshingly candid—not that it doesn

t stick out a mile with both of you that your marriage was one of convenience, as they say. As to those eight years which you dismiss so lightly, they were no
t
quite barren, you know. Duff and I met up again by chance in the South of France where I was spending my elderly husband

s dollars and having myself a ball at his expense, and Duff was playing the tables in every available casino with the usual Lonnegan luck.


Winning?


No, losing, of course. Duff

s luck hasn

t lived up to the Castle

s nickname in many respects, has it? However, it turned then just for a time. He

d run through most of his English money, so I paid his losses—as a temporary loan, of course—and we had a very satisfactory affair which did us both a power of good and released some of those dark inhibitions which had bothered him since Kitty

s death.

Drinking hard, gambling high and wenching hard, too, if he

s anything like his grandsire
...
Jimsy had said, she remembered.

BOOK: Green Girl
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