Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile
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A few minutes later she was being ushered into the long stately drawing room, and an ecclesiastical butler was saying with the proper mournful intonation:
‘Miss de Bellefort.’
‘Linnet!’
‘Jackie!’
Windlesham stood a little aside, watching sympathetically as this fiery little creature flung herself open-armed upon Linnet.
‘Lord Windlesham – Miss de Bellefort – my best friend.’
A pretty child, he thought – not really pretty but decidedly attractive with her dark curly hair and her enormous eyes. He murmured a few tactful nothings and then managed unobtrusively to leave the two friends together.
Jacqueline pounced – in a fashion that Linnet remembered as being characteristic of her.
‘Windlesham? Windlesham? That’s the man the papers always say you’re going to marry! Are you, Linnet? Are you?’
Linnet murmured:
‘Perhaps.’
‘Darling – I’m so glad! He looks nice.’
‘Oh, don’t make up your mind about it – I haven’t made up my own mind yet.’
‘Of course not! Queens always proceed with due deliberation to the choosing of a consort!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jackie.’
‘But you are a queen, Linnet! You always were. Sa Majest'e, la reine Linette. Linette la blonde! And I–I’m the Queen’s confidante! The trusted Maid of Honour.’
‘What nonsense you talk, Jackie darling! Where have you been all this time? You just disappear. And you never write.’
‘I hate writing letters. Where have I been? Oh, about three parts submerged, darling. In JOBS, you know. Grim jobs with grim women!’
‘Darling, I wish you’d-’
‘Take the Queen’s bounty? Well, frankly, darling, that’s what I’m here for. No, not to borrow money. It’s not got to that yet! But I’ve come to ask a great big important favour!’
‘Go on.’
‘If you’re going to marry the Windlesham man, you’ll understand, perhaps.’
Linnet looked puzzled for a minute, then her face cleared.
‘Jackie, do you mean-?’
‘Yes, darling, I’m engaged!’
‘So that’s it! I thought you were looking particularly alive somehow. You always do, of course, but even more than usual.’
‘That’s just what I feel like.’
‘Tell me all about him.’
‘His name’s Simon Doyle. He’s big and square and incredibly simple and boyish and utterly adorable! He’s poor – got no money. He’s what you call “county” all right – but very impoverished county – a younger son and all that. His people come from Devonshire. He loves the country and country things. And for the last five years he’s been in the City in a stuffy office. And now they’re cutting down and he’s out of a job. Linnet, I shall die if I can’t marry him! I shall die! I shall die! I shall die…!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jackie.’
‘I shall die, I tell you! I’m crazy about him. He’s crazy about me. We can’t live without each other.’
‘Darling, you have got it badly!’
‘I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? This love business gets hold of you and you can’t do anything about it.’
She paused for a minute. Her dark eyes dilated, looked suddenly tragic. She gave a little shiver.
‘It’s – even frightening sometimes! Simon and I were made for each other. I shall never care for anyone else. And you’ve got to help us, Linnet. I heard you’d bought this place and it put an idea into my head. Listen, you’ll have to have a land agent – perhaps two. I want you to give the job to Simon.’
‘Oh!’ Linnet was startled.
Jacqueline rushed on.
‘He’s got all that sort of thing at his fingertips. He knows all about estates – was brought up on one. And he’s got his business training too. Oh, Linnet, you will give him a job, won’t you, for love of me? If he doesn’t make good, sack him. But he will. And we can live in a little house and I shall see lots of you and everything in the garden will be too, too divine.’ She got up. ‘Say you will, Linnet. Say you will. Beautiful Linnet! Tall golden Linnet! My own very special Linnet! Say you will!’
‘Jackie-’
‘You will?’
Linnet burst out laughing.
‘Ridiculous Jackie! Bring along your young man and let me have a look at him and we’ll talk it over.’
Jackie darted at her, kissing her exuberantly.
‘Darling Linnet – you’re a real friend! I knew you were. You wouldn’t let me down – ever. You’re just the loveliest thing in the world. Goodbye.’
‘But, Jackie, you’re staying.’
‘Me? No, I’m not. I’m going back to London and tomorrow I’ll come back and bring Simon and we’ll settle it all up. You’ll adore him. He really is a pet.’
‘But can’t you wait and just have tea?’
‘No, I can’t wait, Linnet. I’m too excited. I must get back and tell Simon. I know I’m mad, darling, but I can’t help it. Marriage will cure me, I expect. It always seems to have a very sobering effect on people.’ She turned at the door, stood a moment, then rushed back for a last quick birdlike embrace. ‘Dear Linnet – there’s no one like you.’
Chapter 6
M. Gaston Blondin, the proprietor of that modish little restaurant Chez Ma Tante, was not a man who delighted to honour many of his clientele. The rich, the beautiful, the notorious and the well-born might wait in vain to be singled out and paid special attention. Only in the rarest cases did M. Blondin, with gracious condescension, greet a guest, accompany him to a privileged table, and exchange with him suitable and apposite remarks.
On this particular night, M. Blondin had exercised his royal prerogative three times – once for a Duchess, once for a famous racing peer, and once for a little man of comical appearance with immense black moustaches and who, a casual onlooker would have thought, could bestow no favour on Chez Ma Tante by his presence there.
M. Blondin, however, was positively fulsome in his attentions. Though clients had been told for the last half hour that a table was not to be had, one now mysteriously appeared, placed in a most favourable position. M. Blondin conducted the client to it with every appearance of empressement.