The French Lieutenant's Woman / Любовница французского лейтенанта. Джон Фаулз

to the next. To the young men of the one she had left she had become too select to marry; to those of the one she aspired to, she remained too banal.

      This father sent her to boarding school not out of concern for his daughter but because of obsession with his own ancestry. Four generations back on the paternal side they were clearly established gentlemen. There was even a remote relationship with the Drake[68] family. Perhaps he was disappointed when his daughter came home from school at the age of eighteen and sat across the table from him and watched him when he boasted, annoyed him like a piece of useless machinery. He bought a farm of his own; but he bought it too cheap, and what he thought was a good bargain[69] turned out to be a bad one. He went quite literally mad and was sent to Dorchester Asylum. He died there a year later. By that time Sarah had been earning her own living[70] for a year – at first with a family in Dorchester, to be near her father. Then when he died, she had taken her post with the Talbots.

      She was too good-looking a girl not to have had suitors, in spite of the lack of a dowry of any kind. But she always saw through the too confident pretendants. She saw their meannesses, their stupidities. Thus she was doomed to spinsterhood.

      Sarah stayed with Mrs. Poulteney for a year and there happened great changes which did credit[71] to their relationship.

      It had begun one morning only a few weeks after Miss Sarah had taken up her duties. The old lady had noticed that the upstairs maid whose duty it was each Tuesday to water the ferns in the drawing room hadn't done so. The girl was called and she confessed that she had forgotten; and Mrs. Poulteney began, like a bulldog about to sink its teeth into a burglar's ankles[72], to speak.

      “I will tolerate much, but I will not tolerate this.”

      “I'll never do it again, mum.”

      “You will most certainly never do it again in my house.”

      “Oh, mum. Please, mum.”

      “Mrs. Fairley will give you your wages.”

      Miss Sarah was present at this conversation, since Mrs. Poulteney had been dictating letters. She now asked a question; and the effect was remarkable. It was, to begin with, the first question she had asked in Mrs. Poulteney's presence that was not directly connected with her duties. Secondly, it opposed the old lady's judgment[73]. Thirdly, it was spoken not to Mrs. Poulteney, but to the girl.

      “Are you quite well, Millie?”

      Miss Sarah was beside her; and within the next minute had learned that the girl was indeed not well, had fainted twice within the last week, had been too afraid to tell anyone…

      When, some time later, Miss Sarah returned from the room in which the maids slept, and where Millie had now been put to bed, it was Mrs. Poulteney's turn to ask a question.

      “What am I to do?”

      “As you think best, ma'm.”

      On Mrs. Poulteney's birthday Sarah presented her with an antimacassar[74] embroidered with ferns and lilies-of-the-valley. It pleased Mrs. Poulteney highly.

      But there was a debit side of the relationship. It had been initially arranged that Miss Sarah should have one afternoon a week free. All seemed well for two months. Then one morning Miss Sarah did not appear at the Marlborough House matins; and when the maid was sent to look for her, it was discovered that she had not risen. Mrs. Poulteney went to see her. Sarah was in tears, but on this occasion Mrs. Poulteney felt only irritation. However, she sent for the doctor. He remained closeted with Sarah a long time. When he came down to Mrs. Poulteney, he gave her a brief lecture on melancholia and ordered her to allow her sinner more fresh air and freedom.

      “If you insist on the most urgent necessity for it.”

      “My dear madam, I do. And I will not be responsible otherwise.”

      And on his strict order it was that Sarah achieved a daily demi-liberty.

      Mrs. Poulteney wanted her charity to be seen, which meant that Sarah had to be present with visitors. Once again Sarah showed her diplomacy. With certain old-established visitors, she remained; with others she discreetly left when they were announced. This latter reason was why Ernestina had never met her at Marlborough House.

      But I have left the worst matter to the end. Mrs. Poulteney had made several more attempts to learn the details of the sin. But every time Mrs. Poulteney approached the subject, the sinner's answers to direct questions were always the same as the one she had given at her first interrogation.

      Now Mrs. Poulteney seldom went out, so that she had to rely on other eyes for news of Sarah's activities outside her house. Fortunately for her such a pair of eyes existed – this spy, of course, was none other than Mrs. Fairley, a woman whose only pleasures were knowing the worst or fearing the worst; thus she developed for Sarah a hatred.

      She had a wide network of relations and acquaintances at her command. To these latter she said that Mrs. Poulteney wanted to be informed of Miss Woodruff's behavior outside the tall stone walls of the gardens of Marlborough House. The result was that Sarah's every movement and expression in her free hours was soon known to Mrs. Fairley.

      Sarah always went to the Cobb Gate. There she would stand at the wall and look out to sea. On the way, she would most often turn into the parish church, and pray for a few minutes. She could be seen walking up the grassland, with frequent turns towards the sea. This walk she would do when the Cobb seemed crowded; but when weather made it deserted, she would more often turn that way and end by standing where Charles had first seen her; there, it was supposed, she felt herself nearest to France.

      All this came back to Mrs. Poulteney.

      “I am told, Miss Woodruff, that you are always to be seen in the same places when you go out.” Sarah looked down before the accusing eyes. “You look to sea.” Still Sarah was silent. “I am satisfied that you are in a state of repentance.”

      “I am grateful to you, ma'm.”

      “I am not concerned with your gratitude to me. There is One Above[75] us all.”

      The girl murmured, “How should I not know it?”

      “To the ignorant it may seem that you are persistent in your sin.”

      “If they know my story, ma'm, they cannot think that.”

      “But they do think that. I am told they say you are looking for Satan's sails.”

      Sarah rose then and went to the window. She gazed for a moment out over that sea, then turned back to the old lady, who sat in her armchair as the Queen on her throne.

      “Do you wish me to leave, ma'm?”

      Mrs. Poulteney was shocked. She moderated her tone.

      “I wish you to show that this… person is crossed out from your heart. I know that he is. But you must show it.”

      “How am I to show it?”

      “By walking elsewhere. If for no other reason, because I ask for it.”

      Sarah stood with bowed head, and there was a silence. But then she looked Mrs. Poulteney in the eyes and for the first time since her arrival, she gave the faintest smile.

      “I will do as you wish, ma'm.”

      Sarah kept her side of the bargain[76]. She now went very rarely to the Cobb, though when she did, she still sometimes allowed herself to stand and stare, as on the day we have described.

      Mrs. Fairley, then, had a poor time of it for many months. But one day, not a fortnight before the beginning of my story, Mrs. Fairley had come to Mrs. Poulteney with the face of one about to announce the death of a close friend.

      “I

68

Фрэнсис Дрейк (1540–1596) – английский капитан, совершивший кругосветное плавание.

69

выгодная сделка/покупка

70

зарабатывала себе на жизнь

71

которые говорили в пользу

72

как бульдог, который сейчас вонзит зубы в ногу вора

73

это противоречило суждению старой леди

74

подголовная салфетка

75

Всевышний

76

не нарушала договорённость / держала слово