Australian Hospital (15 page)

“You said that if you had had the knowledge of Mr. Tilburn’s backing you would have opposed Miss Breen’s dismissal. Is it too late now?”

The doctor was fingering some papers.

“Yes,” he answered presently, “it is too late. I have just received a letter from the other benefactor, Sir Geoffrey Bourton. Sir Geoffrey has recently returned from New Zealand. Evidently Dawson has been in touch with him. They are old friends. This letter states very clearly and unmistakably that Bourton, like Dawson, would not be past withdrawing his support to Manathunka if the running of the home did not entirely coincide with what he believes is a sound and practical routine.”

“But that is criminal. Therapy is not something you fit into a routine. It’s—it’s spontaneous. It’s humanitarian, it’s—” Words failed the girl.

Halliday nodded glumly.

“Of course it is, but you must keep in mind that every board on earth has its difficulties. Quite a few of the world’s benefactors are like these two men—blind, bland, pompous, only wishing to keep charity on a good financial basis. Everything spit and polish.

“The trouble is, Jamieson, without that basis, without the spit and polish they demand, we cannot continue, because otherwise our two patrons will step out of the scene. Public subscription is good, but it is inadequate. Without Bourton we cannot exist. We might have done without Dawson’s money, but Hugh Tilburn cannot take the place of
two
subscribers.”

“Then perhaps it is just as well that I did not deliver Mr. Tilburn’s message after all?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Sometimes things done on impulse are done for the best. It might have been better if I had thrashed the whole matter out at the Meeting.”

“You mean—voted against Sister Trisby?”

“Yes.” He looked at her rather oddly. “What makes you think I wouldn’t have done that?”

There was a long, tense silence.

Candace was remembering that night of the ball, and a man bending over a beautiful girl.

She felt suddenly sorry for Eve. Sorry for all women who put their love in a man’s careless keeping.

“I don’t know,” she answered him levelly. “But once you told me that anything you did you
meant,
and I think—I think Eve Trisby might have been entitled to gather the same impression.”

A flush had risen under his tan. She saw that he was recalling too—

“Has that been worrying you?” he asked lightly.

His tone was mocking, but had she looked into his eyes she would have seen the glow deep down in them.

“Of course not. How could it?”

“You would not like me to explain it all to you?” He was bending across the table to her. His voice was low and intent.

“No, I wouldn’t. I rather think I can guess the trend.”

His brows rose.

“I expect”—Candace’s tone was flippant—“these things can always be explained. A moon, stars, all that sort of thing. The same as—on a
ship,
Dr. Halliday?”

Instantly the light went out of his eyes. He sat back, regarding her coldly.

“We have not yet gone into the matter of your disobedience. Miss Jamieson, have you ever considered leaving Manathunka?”

She turned on him in surprise.

The gaze she met with hers was quite expressionless. “Nurses have been dismissed for far less,” he drawled. “I would not tolerate such behaviour from one of the aides. I warn you not to try me too far.”

“I promise you I won’t,” said Candace in a rush. I like Manathunka. I don’t want ever to leave here—unless—”

She was thinking of Gwenda, and how she would like to see her and dear old Charlotte again.

Halliday’s brows were once more the straight uncompromising line.

“I see,” he interpreted dryly. “How did you find Mr. Buckland?”

“Excellent.”

“You like the Territory?”

“Very much.”

“You think a woman could be happy there?”

“Very happy.” She was recalling Rosemary’s ecstasy, and her own eyes shone in fond memory.

Stephen Halliday saw the look and reached his own conclusion. He rose. He rose so abruptly that the chair tipped backwards, and he had to shoot out his hand to stop it falling to the ground.

“I see. Then I hope for your sake we won’t be retaining you too long.”

Candace rose, too.

“You’re mistaken, Doctor—”

“That’s quite all right. I won’t spill any of your girlish confidences before they are ready to be spilt. I appreciate how difficult it is to get the matter signed and sealed definitely and irrevocably, so you may depend on me not to utter a word until it’s all over.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I think, Miss Jamieson, I have heard you say that before. And now I believe you have work to do. Although it is likely you face a far more lucrative future than service at Manathunka, I must remind you that until that happy day, I do expect your co-operation.”

“Have I ever failed to give it?”

He did not answer at once.

She was at the door and turning the handle before he did so.

“Yes, Candace,” he said quietly, “you have never given it. You have never given me anything at all.”

CHAPTER XI

The
days grew into weeks. A month passed—

Candace had seen very little of Stephen Halliday. He attended Manathunka as usual, but it was Sister Arnold who usually accompanied him on his rounds.

She had met Barbara Breen at Claire’s. As Toby had told her, Barbara was very optimistic.

“I’ll be back soon. Ash said so.”

“Don’t be in a hurry,” smiled Claire, “I’ve got the dears on to my baby clothes. A bonnet from Miss James, a feeder from Lilian—”

“Don’t tell me you’ve coaxed any promises out of The Thorn.”

“I tried, but she said she didn’t believe in people bringing children into this worthless world. If they persisted in being so foolish, she declared, she saw no reason that she should waste time on ridiculous clothes that probably, anyway, would never be worn.”

“Poor Thorn, I’m sure I could have found something for her. She’s not all bark, you know.”

Candace nodded. She remembered Miss Walsh’s mumbled support that afternoon of the Fete when the baroness had left without seeing her old friend. She remembered how it had seemed to salvage a ruined day.

“Ash can do anything with Miss Walsh. Whoever Ash marries will have to win her approval as well.” It was Claire who spoke.

“Well, certainly she does not approve of Eve Trisby,” laughed Barbara.

“Who ever thought Ash did?” returned Claire.

No one spoke. Barbara obviously did not think the matter worth an answer. Candace had the feeling that Claire was looking at her. She did not raise her eyes.

One morning on duty, Matron came and sat down on one of the empty cots beside Candace.

“You look tired,” said the girl sympathetically.

“The electric account is up again. I do try, but the bills get me harassed. I suppose you girls think I’m a stodgy old woman—less heart than mind. Perhaps I am.”

Candace hurried to tell her that it wasn’t so, but Matron put up her hand.

“We’ve been very hard put to it these last years. Mr. Halliday could tell you that. There are so many deserving charities. Charities to people who can be made well again, not like people at Manathunka—

“I have a natural slant towards finance. That’s why I was given this position in the first place, my dear. Manathunka needed someone to make ends meet. At the time I had an excellent deputy, and when she left I had Claire, so it did not matter if I concentrated more on balancing the books than tending my patients.

“Now, however, I begin to wonder—Sister Trisby did not do her bit during the epidemic, you know. She never has done it, Sister Jamieson. I don’t like her, and I would like to be rid of her, but again it comes down to a matter of hard cash. If we had the means, I would not hesitate a moment. Another girl like you, and I could leave
that
side of the home to my staff without any of the heart-burnings that I suffer at present.”

“Do you, Matron?” Candace thought how little she had understood this prosaic woman.

She found herself speaking to Matron of Gwenda, who had written more than once that she would like to try her wings in another country.

Matron was interested, but only fleetingly.

“What is the use? We have no staff vacancy without Sister Trisby resigning. She won’t do that unless she and Doctor Halliday—at least—well, you know what I mean. And, of course, we cannot dismiss her. Not in the precarious position we are in at present.”

Candace hesitated. Then she asked Matron the question she had asked Ash, the question she had asked herself, over a dozen times.

“
Would
the doctor dismiss her?”

“He would do anything for Manathunka.”

“You really believe that?”

“I
know
it, my dear.”

“But
why,
Matron? Why is he so lit up with this place? I can see how he loves it. You would love it, too. I do already. But devotion such as he bears—”

She was thinking of his blazing eyes as he had said: “Do you think I would put a woman
—any
woman—before the thing that is nearest to my heart?” Her eyes were puzzled. Matron was pointing towards the front vestibule.

“There is your answer,” she said quietly.

“You mean—the plaque?”

“Yes. Howard Jeffrey was Ash’s maternal grandfather. Actually Stephen was born here at Manathunka, in what is now the gardener’s cottage. Then it was the older Doctor Halliday’s residence. Howard Jeffrey’s daughter married that first Stephen Halliday. The light was passed from generation to generation—that is the only way I can describe it. Service to Manathunka became a legacy.”

A pause, then Matron resumed.

“I remember Stephen as a little boy being literally reared in the love and labour of this home. It is an influence he could not escape from even if he wanted to, and being Howard Jeffrey’s grandson he wouldn’t want to, anyway.”

“I didn’t know—” Candace meant she had not understood the closeness of the doctor to Manathunka.

“Mr. Dawson became a sponsor when a previous benefactor, Mrs. Oliver, died. It was Eve’s doing. She could twist him round her little finger. Eve had just graduated from one of the big, socially-inclined city hospitals. There was no need for her to work, but she was a beautiful restless creature, and the moment she set eyes on Doctor Halliday she knew what she wanted. She knew she could only get him here. Oh yes, my dear, I know what I’m talking about. He appealed to her in every way, and she was determined to have him. He was, I might mention, quite a good proposition apart from his very charming self. He came out of the University with the highest marks. Older doctors spoke glowingly of him. If Eve had not written for him to return from England when she did, he would have been even higher.”

“It was Eve then who brought him back—”

“Yes.” Matron frowned slightly. She seemed unsure of herself a moment.

“Oh, he was attracted, undoubtedly. Can you blame him? Eve is a personable young woman. But I think that stage soon passed. He saw her for the selfish egotist she is, he realised her determination to possess him. If it hadn’t been for Manathunka he would have sent her packing long before this. She knows it, too. She wields her power, and enjoys it. Perhaps she believes she will wear him down, too, one day, as she seems to wear down everything—and everyone—else. Eve is a queer person. She doesn’t really care for anybody. She just
has
to triumph.”

Matron got up.

“If we two were aides, I’d send myself along for discipline,” she admitted shamefacedly. “Oh, well, I suppose it’s good for me to let off steam. Talking of steam reminds me of the laundry. The fuel bill was past credence—”

Without another word, the starchy skirts were fussing down to the basement.

That afternoon Candace had a letter from Rosemary Buckland.

The Tilburns were visiting their daughter and new son-in-law, and Rosemary sounded rapturous.

In her extravagant joy she repeated her offer of her and John’s support to Manathunka.

“... we don’t want to live a selfish life. We have enough. Did I tell you that John and I intend to start off on our own? Daddy suggested it, but Johnny thought of it before that. We want to stand on our own feet, Candace. In brief, were importing some Aberdeen Angus cattle from Scotland.

It’s at a colossal expense, and we’ll have to watch them like babies, but all going as it should, and the Dry keeping to schedule, the John Bucklands will be making their own name up at Kemona. We feel it would be nice to be independent. Of course, it will mean fewer trips down—and no ring other than the one I bought at Manundo, but—”

Candace put the letter down.

She smiled at the offer in face of the fact that the young couple earnestly desired to retrench their expenses. She knew, however, that Rosemary meant what she said—that she would stick to it.

She looked at the letter again.

“... no ring other than the one I bought at Manundo—”

She had never solved the problem of her own Christmas gift. She had not yet asked the Tilburns.

She finished her wards, then saw Stephen Halliday’s car draw up in front of the house.

On a sudden impulse she went down the steps to him.

“Dr. Halliday—”

“Yes, Sister Jamieson?”

His voice was not very encouraging.

“I have had a letter from the Bucklands. They are very interested in Manathunka. They would like to become benefactors.”

For a while he did not speak, then he turned harshly upon her.

“Manathunka has had one instance of a member of the staff holding the strings of the money bags. I do not think it would be wise to admit another.”

“But—”

“Anything else, Sister?”

“No, sir.”

Stephen Halliday passed by her without another word into the long vestibule.

That afternoon Candace was off duty.

She decided to tidy her suitcases and take out some of her sweaters, for the weather was losing its shimmering heat and achieving a certain mild chill.

At the bottom of the bag was the oblong box containing the ring, the bracelet, the ear-rings, the pendant.

She took them out, trying again to solve their mystery.

She had never yet removed the pendant. She had let it lie there, cool, grey, limpidly beautiful.

Now, however, something attracted her attention. The lovely line of the bracelet was held in place by a flap of velvet, and beneath the flap she caught a glimpse of something white. She pulled it out ... It was a visiting card.

She picked it up, her hands trembling. There was no message. There was only a printed name, but its letters blurred and it was a while before she could assure herself she read truly.

“Stephen Halliday.”

So
Stephen
had given her the ring—

She was still sitting there when Brenda tapped on the door.

“There, Sister? Mr. Laurence has called. He’d like to see you. Will I put him downstairs in the sitting-room?”

“Please, Brenda. Tell him I won’t be a moment.”

She put the box carefully away, then she noticed she had left out the ring.

She slipped it on her right hand, feeling its cool impact.

She ran a comb through her hair and went downstairs.

Mr. Laurence was standing by the small table. He wheeled round as Candace entered. His face was quite pink and excited.

“My dear, have you heard yet? Has the news reached you?”

“What is it, Mr. Laurence?”

“They wrote me as well, you see. They thought it might be wise if I discuss it with you personally—help you if you are at all confused—”

“I don’t understand.”

“Then you haven’t heard? Of course not, though, the mail has to be locally sorted for Manathunka and—”

“Mr. Laurence, please—”

He smiled, and took her hand and patted it.

“I can’t say how happy I am. There is no one I would sooner see in this position than you.”

“Mr. Laurence—”

The little man was pushing her into a chair, bringing a chair up to it to be near her.

“My dear, I must offer you my congratulations.”

“On what?”

A wild idea went through Candace that this man, like Stephen, had coupled herself and John Buckland.

Then Mr. Laurence was speaking, and Candace’s eyes opened wide in amazement.

She heard among other things: “... you, the mistress of Manders.”

Mr. Laurence glanced at her. He saw that she had been only half listening to him. He began again.

“All this you will learn in your solicitor’s letter, but I think, perhaps, you will understand better if I tell you now. Do you recall the name Bruce Fielding?”

“Yes. Mr. Fielding was Miss Hilary’s nephew. Manders was to pass on to Bruce. The estate was entailed. It went to the male side.”

“For so long as the male side
—any
side, indeed—existed,” said Mr. Laurence.

Candace looked up. “Do you mean that Bruce—”

“Bruce is dead.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“I am sorry, too. I never met him, but it is sad to see an old family pass out of being.”

“When did he die?”

Now Mr. Laurence was looking at her very keenly. “Two years ago,” he said quietly.

“Two years—but that was before Miss Hilary’s death!”

“Exactly.”

Still the meaning of it all had not reached Candace. The secretary perceived that, and leaned forward.

“He died
before
Miss Hilary. That means Manders was Miss Hilary’s to leave, not her nephew’s.”

“Well?”

“Don’t you see it, my dear? Hilary Fielding left all she had to you. You were her legatee. It was a very little inheritance,
then.
Only a passage to Australia. Now, it is different. She had Manders to leave. You are the mistress of Manders.”