“Yes,” she went on.
“Oh, darling, don’t look so frightened! I told him I hated him. He came upon me when I was in the summerhouse, and tried to keep me there and force his horrible lovemaking on me. What a beast he is, Scarcely a man, I think -and how I hate the noisy way he breathes! You should hear him drink his tea. and it is as bad with coffee or chocolate. Hateful! Hateful! And I told him so.”
He leaned on his elbows. Here in the woods was perfect peace and happiness, but outside terrible things could happen. He would write again to Uncle Simon; he would say a month was too long or perhaps they would go to London without saying anything.
“He is powerful hereabouts,” he said.
“If he knew you loved me, he could rake up some minor charge against me.”
“That would be wrong… that would be cruel…”
“It is a cruel world we live in, Kitty.”
“But how gentle you are, Darrell, Perhaps that is why I love you. All the time you think of me; not what you want, but what is best for me. I see it, Darrell, and I love you for it. You would die for me, I know; I would for you too.”
“I do not want us to die, but to live for each other,” he said.
“You are clever with words and how I love you! Let us not think of Squire Haredon and my Aunt Harriet and your Uncle Gregory, nor of the cruel world we live in. How lovely it is here! How quiet. We might be alone in the world; do you feel that, Darrell?”
Her lips were parted. She was her mother and the blacksmith’s daughter. She loved; she loved passionately and recklessly; she was the perfect lover because love to her was all-important. There was no room in her mind for tomorrow; let others think of that.
He heard her laugh a little mockingly, as he thought the birds laughed invitingly, irresistibly. He felt the blood run hot through his veins. He was aware of the letter he had had from his Uncle Simon, crackling in his pocket when he moved.
He put his mouth on hers; her arms were about him. Only a month, he thought desperately; everything was really settled.
Inside the wood it was heaven. Outside was the cruel world. But did one think of the cruel world when one was in heaven?
Meetings in the wood took on a new joy. Kitty lived for them, scarcely aware of the days. Harriet watched her slyly, watched the rapture in her eyes, and thought, I believe she will marry the squire after all. I believe all that talk of hating him was coquetry. Was that how Bess did it?
And because the greatest terror of her life was that it might be discovered that she herself had contemplated marriage with the squire, she talked to him of Kitty.
“I felt, George, that right from the time you set eyes on her she reminded you so much of Bess that you had quite an affection for her.”
What a keen glance he had shot at her from under those bushy eyebrows of his!
“You’re a fanciful woman, Harry!”
“I’m a woman with my eyes open. Why, sometimes I could almost feel it was Bess herself smirking before her mirror, curling her hair and making herself a hindrance rather than a help about the house!”
He laughed at that.
“So that’s how it is, Harriet.”
“Mind you, if that is what was in your mind, and she was to know it and make a pretence of flouting you, I wouldn’t take her seriously. She’s a coquette; a born one, and made one by that mother of hers. She’s the sort who would want to lead a man a dance…”
There! That had him. He was puzzled. He was beginning to think that Harriet had turned matchmaker. And how excited those words of hers made him! He was ready to grasp any shred of hope, so badly did he desire the girl.
His visits to the house did not diminish. Kitty, though, hardly =seemed aware of him. She passed through the days like a person in a dream, the passion in her making her long for the evenings. Meetings took place earlier now, for the days were getting shorter; so they had longer together. What good allies she had in Peg and Dolly! Sometimes she stayed in the wood until close on midnight, but Peg and Dolly never failed to watch for her return and creep down from the attic to let her in. The days passed. Darrell heard from his Uncle Simon again. Uncle Simon was enthusiastic; he longed to see the beautiful girl whom Darrell described so eulogistically; he longed to score off old Gregory. He was getting ready for them; he would be ready for them very soon.
“Next Monday,” said Darrell, ‘we will take the coach. We will meet here at midnight on Sunday: we shall have to walk into Exeter. We shall catch the very first coach, and we must take care not to be seen.”
“Monday!” cried Kitty gaily.
“Oh … in no time it will be Monday!”
Darrell was excited, making plans.
“One day this week I shall go to Exeter for my uncle; then I shall book our places on the Monday coach.”
“It’s wonderful! Wonderful!”
“And,” cautioned Darrell, ‘a great secret, to be told to no one.”
“You can trust me for that, though I should have liked to say goodbye to Peg and Dolly.”
“You must say goodbye to no one. If this went wrong, Kitty She laughed at him.
“How could it go wrong?”
She was so full of joy that she wanted everyone to share it. She worked hard in the garden; she tried to please Aunt Harriet; she even had a brief smile for the squire. She gave Peg a scarf and Dolly a petticoat. She just wanted everyone around her to be happy.
She met Darrell as usual on Wednesday evening. What a glorious evening it was! The air soft and balmy, and no breeze to stir the branches of the trees.
Darrell said: “I shall be thinking,of this all the way to Exeter tomorrow. When our places are booked it will seem as though we are already there. Kitty! You must not go back looking as happy as you look, or someone will guess!”
And she laughed, and they embraced; and then they lay there, ” talking of London and the future.
It was past midnight when Kitty returned to her aunt’s house, but Peg, wearing her scarf, let her in.
All next day she was absent-minded. Harriet noticed.
“What has come over you, girl?” she demanded.
“You are not even as bright as usual!”
Kitty smiled very sweetly; she could afford to be patient with Aunt Harriet. Her thoughts were all with Darrel, riding to Exeter on his uncle’s chestnut mare.
She went to the wood that evening. He did not come. She returned home a little subdued. Why, of course he had not got home from Exeter; that was the reason he had not come. He had said he might have to stay the night if he could not conclude his uncle’s business, but would certainly be home on Saturday.
On Saturday she was waiting for him. How quiet was the wood! She had never noticed that so much before. There were few birds now and the leaves were thick, some already beginning to turn brown at the edges. A gloomy place, the wood, when you waited for a love who did not come.
She was anxious now: she was frightened. What could have happened to detain him? Business? Suppose he did not return by Monday; they had made no plans for such an occurrence. What should she do? Go to Exeter alone? But how could she take the London coach alone? She would not know where to go when she arrived. She had not the money to pay her fare.
She ran through the trees; she gazed up and down the road. Once she heard the clop, clop, of horses’ hoofs, and when the sound died away, the disappointment was intense. Lonely and desolate, she returned to the meeting place; he was not there. It grew dark.
Why had he not come? Here was Saturday, and he had not come.
Sunday was like a bad dream from which she was trying desperately to escape. Perhaps he would send a message; he would know how frightened she must be, and he had ever been mindful of her comfort and her peace of mind.
On Sunday evening she went to the wood, and still he did not come.
Peg and Dolly crept into her room and found her sobbing on the bed. They eyed each other sadly. Perhaps they thought it was unwise to trust a lover too far. They cried with her. It was a cruel world, they said.