JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 78 из 213The pride ofthis house would not allow it, but the people of Salamanca tell the story and certainly the passages exist.”
“It’s a harsh story.”
“Yes. It goes on that she died, strangled by the ghost of her husband, and that will be the fate of any mistress of this house who is unfaithful to her husband.” She glanced up at Sharpe as she said the last words and there was a curious hostility in her expression, a challenge perhaps.
“You say the story isn’t true?”
She gave a crooked, secret smile. “How very indelicate of you, Captain Sharpe.” She drew on the cigar, hardening the red point of the tobacco. “What did Lord Spears tell you about me?”
He was startled by the directness of her question, by the inference that she was commanding him to answer. He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“How very unlike Jack.” She drew on the cigar again. “Did he tell you that I asked him to make you come here?”
“No.”
“I did. Aren’t you curious why?”
Heleaned against the frameof the lattice. “I’m curious, yes.”
“Thank God for that! I was beginning to think there wasn’t a human feeling in your body.” Her voice was harsh. Sharpe wondered what game she was playing. He watched as she tossed the cigar onto the flagstones of the balcony and, as it landed, it showered sparks like a musket pan fired at night. “Why do you think, Captain?”
“I don’t know why I’m here, Ma’am.”
“Oh!” Her voice was mocking now. “You find me on my own, ignoring all my guests, not to mention the proprieties, and there’s a table set with wine, and you think nothing?”
Sharpe did not like being toyed with. “I’m only a humble soldier, Ma’am, unused to the ways of my betters.”
She laughed, and her face suddenly softened. “You said that with such delicious arrogance. Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“If it pleases you to, yes.”
She nodded. “It pleases me. So tell me what Jack Spears whispered to you?” The inflection of command was back in her voice, as if she talked to her postilion.
Sharpe was tired of her games. He let his own voice be as harsh as hers. “That you had low tastes, Ma’am.”
She went very still and tense. She was leaning forward on the bench, her hands gripping its edge, and Sharpe wondered if she was about to shout for her servants and have him thrown out. Then she leaned back, relaxed, and waved a hand at the elegant balcony. “I thought I had rather high tastes. Poor Jack thinks everyone is like him.
“It’s a harsh story.”
“Yes. It goes on that she died, strangled by the ghost of her husband, and that will be the fate of any mistress of this house who is unfaithful to her husband.” She glanced up at Sharpe as she said the last words and there was a curious hostility in her expression, a challenge perhaps.
“You say the story isn’t true?”
She gave a crooked, secret smile. “How very indelicate of you, Captain Sharpe.” She drew on the cigar, hardening the red point of the tobacco. “What did Lord Spears tell you about me?”
He was startled by the directness of her question, by the inference that she was commanding him to answer. He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“How very unlike Jack.” She drew on the cigar again. “Did he tell you that I asked him to make you come here?”
“No.”
“I did. Aren’t you curious why?”
Heleaned against the frameof the lattice. “I’m curious, yes.”
“Thank God for that! I was beginning to think there wasn’t a human feeling in your body.” Her voice was harsh. Sharpe wondered what game she was playing. He watched as she tossed the cigar onto the flagstones of the balcony and, as it landed, it showered sparks like a musket pan fired at night. “Why do you think, Captain?”
“I don’t know why I’m here, Ma’am.”
“Oh!” Her voice was mocking now. “You find me on my own, ignoring all my guests, not to mention the proprieties, and there’s a table set with wine, and you think nothing?”
Sharpe did not like being toyed with. “I’m only a humble soldier, Ma’am, unused to the ways of my betters.”
She laughed, and her face suddenly softened. “You said that with such delicious arrogance. Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“If it pleases you to, yes.”
She nodded. “It pleases me. So tell me what Jack Spears whispered to you?” The inflection of command was back in her voice, as if she talked to her postilion.
Sharpe was tired of her games. He let his own voice be as harsh as hers. “That you had low tastes, Ma’am.”
She went very still and tense. She was leaning forward on the bench, her hands gripping its edge, and Sharpe wondered if she was about to shout for her servants and have him thrown out. Then she leaned back, relaxed, and waved a hand at the elegant balcony. “I thought I had rather high tastes. Poor Jack thinks everyone is like him.