Anne Hampson Not Far from Heaven [MB 915] (pdf)

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within a few moments he and she were facing
one another across the dining-table in the
lovely saloon where the only lights were
those given off by tall red candles in crystal
candle-sticks, high and slender and triple-
branched.
The rest of the evening passed most
pleasantly, with an interlude of quiet
companionship taking place as they partook
of coffee and liqueurs on the patio and
watched the ever-changing shapes and
textures as the moon rose and its bending
shafts of argent light invaded the slumbering
landscape. Silence hung over the entire
scene of lake and mountain and lowland
pasture, silence and solitude and a strange
transcending peace that seemed not to be of
the earthly kind at all. Thoroughly relaxed,
tranquil in mind and body, Mary leant back
against the cushions and stared happily at
her husband's profile. This all seemed like
some miracle ... and England was as distant
and unreal as her past.
CHAPTER FOUR
As the days passed Mary drifted into a sort of
lazy con-tentment. Although bewildered at
times by her husband's unfathomable and
evasive manner she invariably put the blame
on herself. For one thing she was attaching
too much importance to it, and for another
she was forgetting that he must feel a
measure of awkwardness concerning their
relationship, since it was so unnatural. He and
she had been in love, had lived as lovers in
the way a husband and wife would normally
live, but now they were only friends.
Therefore it was to be expected that his
manner would be one of rather cool courtesy
towards her. All would be rectified once she
was able to approach him, willing to be his
wife again. He would then be freed from
restraint, able to demonstrate his love in the
way he must have demonstrated it prior to
the accident that had quite literally created a
rift between them - not a sinister, or even
unfriendly rift, but a barrier for all that.
She was lying in bed, staring through the
window; in the distance could just be seen
the peaks of part of the Pindus Mountains,
still covered with snow.
Kyriaki knocked softly and entered with a
breakfast tray. Easing herself up so that the
tray could be put before her, Mary thanked
the maid, then, glancing at the poached eggs,
the brown crusty bread and rich creamy
butter, she added, `This is just what the
doctor ordered.' Her eyes wandered to the
girl's face, which registered some alarm.
`The doctor, madam? What is wrong? Are you
sick?'
Mary laughed, shaking her head.
`No, Kyriaki. Take no notice of what I said.'
But the girl was still troubled and Mary
wished she
could have taken back her words.
`latros ..: murmured Kyriaki, and went swiftly
from the room.
`Iatros,' repeated Mary. `Now I wonder what
that means?' She didn't let it trouble her,
however, as she poured herself coffee from a
silver-gilt pot, then added rich cream from a
matching jug. The china was exquisite, the
cutlery of silver. The cloth on the tray had
been hand-embroidered. Mary smiled
contentedly, yet, quite unbidden, rose the
picture of her hands when first she had
become sufficiently interested to examine
them. Rough and red, they had been ...
Perhaps she had been doing the chores for
these friends with whom she had been
staying, she thought, then frowned heavily.
She was not used to work of that nature; her
friends would have known that she was
married to a very wealthy man who pro-vided
her with servants, so it was most unlikely that
they would expect her to work so hard that
her hands became like those of a woman
engaged continually in housework. With a
deep sigh of puzzlement Mary put the matter
from her. It was always so unprofitable to
allow her mind to dwell on questions she was
quite unable to answer. But she did wish her
husband would be a little more expans-ive.
She tried to ask about her life before the
accident; she had subtly inquired about
confidences she must have made to him
concerning her life before she met him - her
childhood, and when and how her parents
had died. Always he adopted that stern
expression, which was more than a little
intimidating, she thought. He seemed too
masterful by far at these times, speaking
softly, yet a little threateningly, as if he would
almost be ready to chastise her should she
continue to put these questions to him.
Invariably she would end by promising never
to mention the past again - but it was only
natural that she forgot her promises and a
question would escape, bringing down upon
her head his displeasure even yet again,
She was enjoying her breakfast when Damos
himself came through the communicating
door without even knocking. She glanced up,
a question in her eyes; he stood still, his
puzzled glance moving from her face to the
tray.
'Kyriaki tells me you want a doctor.'
`A-? Oh, dear, she misunderstood me.' Mary
looked apologetically at him. `When she
brought my breakfast I said it was just what
the doctor ordered.' Relieved to see a hint of
amusement appear on his face, she gave a
little laugh. `I'm sorry if I caused a stir.'
`Not a stir exactly, but for the moment I was
rather anxious.'
`I'm sorry,' she said again, toying with her
bread, for an awkwardness overcome her all
at once. It was the first time he had seen her
in bed and she was conscious of the fact that
the pretty nightgown she wore was very far
from providing an adequate covering for her
curves. And her husband's eyes were on
those curves ...
`I'll go and tell Kyriaki that you don't require
a doctor after all,' he said and, stepping back,
he closed the door. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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