In love? With which one? James, Tom, Charley? No! Don't make me laugh; her haughty nose would go up in the air at the thought of any of them.
The kitchen door opened. Margery saw the girl's face whiten. This was very strange; something was afoot... what? She sat very still her eyes downcast. Margery had never seen her so pale. Her eyelashes were incredibly long, and her pallor, oddly enough, make them look longer.
They were tipped with reddish-brown. She was a beauty!
It was James at the door.
"Hot coffee at once! With biscuits. The lady has a visitor.”
Margery got up, grumbling.
"Morning visitors, I hates 'em. Why does people have visitors in the mornings! All right, all right! Come on, you. You can help me. Not you, Jin ... you get on with them taties, and keep your eye on the spit at the same time, will you?”
James went out. Margery touched Carolan's arm.
"Look here, me girl. You can take their coffee up to 'em. It ain't often servants is allowed the run of the house, but you ain't like the rest, see? It's funny, but I don't believe you had nothing to do with that thieving they sent you out for.”
"Oh ... Margery ..." Carolan caught the woman's arm. She had great difficulty in keeping the teats back.
"Here! Here!" said Margery, herself moved unaccountably. She wished she was a man so that she could love the girl physically; Margery played with the idea while she made the coffee. It fascinated her.
"Now up you goes with it! Mrs. Masterman and her lady friend in the drawing-room. Steady, girl! For God's sake don't drop the tray, or it'll be the last one you'll carry into Mrs. Masterman's drawing-room, I'm warning you. Now don't be shy. Wouldn't be surprised if Mrs.
Masterman asked for you to wait at table. You're a lot nicer to look at than that saucy Jin ... Gipsies is dirty things, no mistake! Go on with you. Here's the biscuit barrel. I'll come up with you and knock.
Ready?”
They mounted the stairs. Would he be there? wondered Carolan.
Margery knocked at the door of the drawing-room.
"Come in!" said Mrs. Masterman.
Margery pushed open the door, and Carolan went in. Mrs. Masterman was lying back in her chair, looking wan. She wore a fleecy jacket that made her look like an invalid.
Margery said from the door in a hoarse whisper: "Better pour it out for 'em.”
Carolan, relieved that Mr. Masterman was not present, put down the tray and started to pour out.
"Bring it over here," said Mrs. Masterman, and Carolan, her hands steady, carried over the tray. They helped themselves to brown sugar.
There seemed to Carolan something slightly familiar about the dark-haired visitor.
The visitor said: "You seem to be well served, Mrs. Masterman. I must say I have the most shocking trouble with my servants.”
"Gunnar is so careful," said Mrs. Masterman.
"Ah... yes. That is it. When you have a man to arrange your affairs ..." Dark eyes studied Carolan appraisingly.
"I always think it is such a pity, when I see these young criminals.”
Carolan went out, wondering where she had heard that voice before. But that seemed a trivial matter. The main thing was where was the master, and what was he going to do about a rebellious and disrespectful convict servant who had behaved shamefully in his toilet-room? Had he forgotten? Was that possible? Wild hope soared up. A very busy man, was he not, with so much to attend to? Could it be that he had forgotten?
Something was happening in the kitchen. She heard Esther laugh. She had never noticed before that Esther had such joyous laughter. It came floating through the open door. Perhaps people's voices were different when you dissociated them from their faces. If Newgate had left its stamp on Esther's face, it had not been able to touch her voice.
Margery spoke, excited, giggly. And then ... another voice, a voice that made the blood rush into her head and beat like the tattooing of a jungle drum in her ears. The voice of Marcus.
She almost fell down the last steps to the kitchen. There he was, jaunty as ever, debonair, wearing riding breeches and leggings of leather, leaning in at the kitchen window.
She stood on the threshold of the room; he looked up and saw her, and she forgot the awful fear of punishment that was hanging over her, because the look in Marcus's eyes dispelled all that.
He said: "Carolan!" and his voice was husky with emotion.
"Marcus!”
He held out his arms and she ran to him. He kissed her, first on one cheek, then on the other, then on the lips.
"My sweet, sweet Carolan.”
"Marcus ... all this time ... what has happened? Where have you been?
You are free ... Surely you are free? Oh, what happened? What happened, Marcus? Have you come to take me away?”
He laughed and held her from him.
"So much you want to know," he said.
"So much I want to know. Why, your eyes are wet, my darling. Does the return of the wanderer mean so much to you then?”
Margery was laughing, holding her sides, while the tears ran out of her eyes.
"Come in! Come in! Mr. Masterman would be the first person in the world to want to show hospitality to the servant of his lady's friend.
Come in!"
"Servant... Marcus, you?”
He leaped over the window-sill. And Carolan was laughing now; they were all laughing.
"And you too, my haughty Carolan.”
"Poll!" cried Margery.
"Don't stand there gaping, girl! Bring out glasses. A little drop of ale would go down well here, I'm thinking.”
Marcus put his arm lightly round Margery's shoulder, and planted a light kiss on her hair.
"What angels have you fallen amongst, my darlings?”
"Go on with you!" Margery pushed him away.
"You keep your kisses for them as asks for them, young man!”
And she was laughing as she had not laughed for a long time. That was the charm of Marcus. His warm eyes embraced them all; Carolan first, Carolan his woman, then Esther, nice sweet Esther, and amorous old Margery, sullen Jin and even Poll standing there plucking her dress.
Every one of them could feel the charm of Marcus.
The glasses were on the table. They sat round it. Esther was on one side of him, Carolan on the other. He put an arm round them both.
"Marcus," said Carolan, 'you must have been very lucky. Why ... you seem not like a convict at all. You seem...”
"... A thorough gentleman! My luck held, my dears. I was taken into the service of a Miss Clementine Smith. She discovered I could manage a horse, so I drive her buggy; it is now standing in your yard.”
"You knew we were here, Marcus ?”
"Do you imagine I would not make it my business to find out where you were?”
"Marcus! I am so happy. If only I could go away with you! If only Esther and I. "If only! Do not forget we earn our rewards by good conduct.
One day ..." She said: "I can wait now. I can bear anything. Esther, can you?”
"Yes," said Esther, eyes shining.
"Yes, I can bear anything."
"You are a pair of angels!”
"Drink up," said Margery.
"It ain't often I has guests in my kitchen, it ain't!”
"That's a pity, Ma'am, for it is right welcome you make them.”
Margery simpered and wriggled in her chair. Her eyes glistened. What a man! And he loved the girl. How he loved the girl! He was right for her. What had brought them out together? Imagine them ... imagine them loving ... And bless him, he had more smiles to give to Margery than to the dark-skinned gipsy. Dark-skinned gipsies were not to everybody's taste!
Marcus told them what had happened to him.
"I went into the service of Miss Clementine Smith almost immediately.
She had only just arrived in Sydney, and wanted a manservant. She said I was just the man for the job. I was lucky. I have been treated well.”