JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 74 из 213God rot them all!
“Richard! Are you going?”
Spears whirled offthe dance floor, climbed the two steps to where Sharpe was standing, and brought with him a small, dark-haired girl with brightly rouged cheeks. “Say hello to Maria.”
Sharpe half bowed to her. “Senorita.”
“We are formal.” Spears grinned at him. “You’re not going, are you?”
“I was.”
“You can’t, my dear fellow! Positively can’t. You’ll have to see La Marquesa, at least. Press her exquisite fingers to your lips, murmur ”charmed“, and compliment heron her frock.”
“Tell her from me she looked wonderful.” He had not seen her, though he had looked, in either room.
Spears slumped back in mock resignation. “Are you a dull dog, Richard? Don’t tell me that the hero of Talavera, the Conqueror of Badajoz, is creeping back to his lonely cot to say a few prayers for lame dogs and orphans! Enjoy yourself!” He gestured at the girl. “Do you want her? She’s probably as clean as they come. Really! You can have her! There are plenty more down there.” Maria, who obviously spoke not a word of English, looked devotedly up into Spears’ handsome face.
Sharpe wondered why Spears was so friendly. Perhaps his Lordship needed a strong arm to protect him from his gambling creditors or maybe, as he had accused La Marquesa, Spears liked the company of his social inferiors. Whatever, it did not matter. “I’m going. It’s been a long day.”
Spears shrugged. “If you must, Richard. If you must. I did try.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Sharpe took one last look at the ballroom, at the circling, brilliant people beneath the great chandeliers, and he knew he had been foolish in coming to this place. La Marquesa was not to be his reward. He had been presumptuous in even coming. He nodded to Spears, turned, and walked onto the upper landing. He stopped behind the shako-hatted statue and stared up at the great, painted ceiling, and he could not imagine owning one hundredth of one hundredth part of all this wealth. He would go back and tell Harper of it.
“Senor?” A servant had appeared beside him. The man was aloof, liveried, and with a supercilious look in his eye.
“Yes?”
“This way, senor.” The man plucked Sharpe’s sleeve towards a tapestry against the wall.
Sharpe shook the hand off, growled, and he saw alarm come into the servant’s eyes.
“Senor! Por favor! This way!”
It suddenly occurred to Sharpe that the man only had these two words of English, words he had been coached in, and only one person gave orders in this house. La Marquesa. He followed the man towards the hanging tapestry.
“Richard! Are you going?”
Spears whirled offthe dance floor, climbed the two steps to where Sharpe was standing, and brought with him a small, dark-haired girl with brightly rouged cheeks. “Say hello to Maria.”
Sharpe half bowed to her. “Senorita.”
“We are formal.” Spears grinned at him. “You’re not going, are you?”
“I was.”
“You can’t, my dear fellow! Positively can’t. You’ll have to see La Marquesa, at least. Press her exquisite fingers to your lips, murmur ”charmed“, and compliment heron her frock.”
“Tell her from me she looked wonderful.” He had not seen her, though he had looked, in either room.
Spears slumped back in mock resignation. “Are you a dull dog, Richard? Don’t tell me that the hero of Talavera, the Conqueror of Badajoz, is creeping back to his lonely cot to say a few prayers for lame dogs and orphans! Enjoy yourself!” He gestured at the girl. “Do you want her? She’s probably as clean as they come. Really! You can have her! There are plenty more down there.” Maria, who obviously spoke not a word of English, looked devotedly up into Spears’ handsome face.
Sharpe wondered why Spears was so friendly. Perhaps his Lordship needed a strong arm to protect him from his gambling creditors or maybe, as he had accused La Marquesa, Spears liked the company of his social inferiors. Whatever, it did not matter. “I’m going. It’s been a long day.”
Spears shrugged. “If you must, Richard. If you must. I did try.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Sharpe took one last look at the ballroom, at the circling, brilliant people beneath the great chandeliers, and he knew he had been foolish in coming to this place. La Marquesa was not to be his reward. He had been presumptuous in even coming. He nodded to Spears, turned, and walked onto the upper landing. He stopped behind the shako-hatted statue and stared up at the great, painted ceiling, and he could not imagine owning one hundredth of one hundredth part of all this wealth. He would go back and tell Harper of it.
“Senor?” A servant had appeared beside him. The man was aloof, liveried, and with a supercilious look in his eye.
“Yes?”
“This way, senor.” The man plucked Sharpe’s sleeve towards a tapestry against the wall.
Sharpe shook the hand off, growled, and he saw alarm come into the servant’s eyes.
“Senor! Por favor! This way!”
It suddenly occurred to Sharpe that the man only had these two words of English, words he had been coached in, and only one person gave orders in this house. La Marquesa. He followed the man towards the hanging tapestry.