Heart Specialist

CHAPTER ONE

Martine was looking harassed
when Valentine met her in the corridor. She handed over Fifi, of whom she disapproved in any case, with a remark about Miss Constantia being in no mood for lapdogs, and then went on her way with only a slight lightening of her expression.

Valentine called after her.

“
Your mistress had a good night, Martine?
”

“
A disturbed night,
mademoiselle
!
”
the dour Breton voice floated back to her.
“
I am on my way now to telephone the doctor. It is as well, I think, that he should see her.
”

Valentine made no further attempt to delay her, but hugged Fifi against her white candlewick dressing gown and went on her own way to the bathroom. She decided that this morning there was every reason for hurry, and there could be no lingering in the bath with the new bath essence that she had so extravagantly purchased on her last free afternoon in the rue de la Paix. The sooner she made her more personal inquiries about the state of Miss Constantia
’
s health the better, although if she had got to know her employer at all well in the three months that she had worked for her—and somehow she believed that she had got to know her very well indeed—the replies to her inquiries could quite easily be extremely misleading.

Miss Constantia would probably be sitting up in bed in her blue bed jacket, and on the satin eiderdown there would be her breakfast tray as usual. Her letters, which her thin, blue-veined, slightly trembly hands had struggled to open with an old-fashioned ivory paper knife that she had used for years, would be scattered all over the place, and even the begging letters would receive as careful a scrutiny as those from her nieces and nephews. Later on they would be handed over to Valentine to deal with, just as the nieces
’
and nephews
’
letters would in the end be answered by Valentine. And when asked how she was feeling she would look up and smile with the twinkle that was seldom absent from her faded blue eyes, and say,
“
Oh, I ate too many
marrons glaces
after dinner last night, and of course
I
had to have one of my tablets about four o
’
clock this morning! If
I
will not control my gluttony
I
must expect a little pain, mustn
’
t I?
”
Or,
“
Just a little fussing on Martine
’
s part, my dear, you know how she loves to fuss! But there is really nothing wrong with me!
”

But Martine
’
s expression had indicated that the
“
little pain
”
had been rather more acute than usual, and although it was true that she fussed endlessly over her mistress, she was an extremely practical woman. That she had thought it necessary to summon Dr. Daudet—probably without her mistress
’
s permission—was an indication in itself that there was an urgency abroad this morning.

Valentine decided to take a shower instead of waiting to fill the bath, and while she toweled herself Fifi sat on the bath mat and whimpered as she always did when she was banished from her adored owner
’
s bedroom. Valentine gathered her up and took her along to her own room when she went to dress, and enthroned her on her bed while she slipped into a navy blue silk dress with a little white collar and cuffs. It made her look very slim and Anglo-Saxon, with her strikingly fair complexion
and blue eyes, and hair that Martine had once described to the cook as
“
a mass of gold cobwebs
”
when it was first combed out.

Outside the window, while she dressed, a Paris morning got gradually into its stride. It was a morning that had dawned beautifully because it was spring, and even the new young leaves on the chestnut trees were glistening and gay with promise. The sunlight was as golden and mellow as a primrose, and the air seemed saturated with the perfume from the flower market in the shadow of the Madeleine and the bright beds in the Tuileries Gardens.

Normally, while she was going through the process of dressing, Valentine stood near her fine net curtains and peered out at the greening trees and the rooftops opposite. She loved to know that those rooftops were the rooftops of Paris, and although it was very quiet and dignified where Miss Constantia passed her gentle dignified days, not so very far away were the Champs Elysees and the fashionable hub of Paris.

But this morning was no time for dwelling on her extraordinary good fortune in finding such an excellent job in the world
’
s most exciting capital. She barely waited to flick a powder puff over her nose, and to use a lipstick lightly before darting back along the corridor to Miss Constantia
’
s room. She shut Fifi into the little room next door where she worked, and where her typewriter was as yet covered. The desk drawers were locked, so little harm could be done. She then waited for permission to enter her employer
’
s room.

It came almost immediately, in a rather thinner, fainter voice than usual.

“
Ah, there you are, my dear child.
”
It was the same greeting, however, and the same pale lips smiled at her. But Miss Constantia was not sitting up this morning, and
the bone structure of her face was emphasized by the exhausted tightness of the skin that was stretched across it. There were tiny blue shadows at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes seemed to have retreated into very deep sockets, although they were still the delicate blue of harebells. She put out a thin hand to beckon Valentine closer, and for an instant the blue depths were lit by a faint conspiratorial sparkle.
“
Martine is being obstinate,
”
she confided,
“
and I hadn
’
t the courage to go against her. She has insisted on summoning Dr. Daudet
,
but the poor man won
’
t be at all pleased, because I
’
ve been as had as this before. We all know that my heart is groggy, but Dr. Daudet himself has said that it will last me for years yet, and naturally it will play up from time to time.
I
have his tablets, so why summon him?
”

“
Have the tablets helped at all?
”
Valentine asked, smoothing the fat white pillows behind the elderly gray head and then lifting her a little higher on them.

“
Not so far, but they will.
”

Although her breathing was irregular, and her eyes were dark with pain, she sounded almost complacent.

“
Then I agree with Martine that it is highly important the doctor should be here!
”
Valentine knew she had never felt so decided about anything in her life, and she hoped that Martine had already got through to the doctor. Surely he would be in his house at this early hour of the morning?

“
And drag him away from his breakfast?
”
Miss Constantia
’
s expression grew quizzical.
“
How unfeeling you are!
”

“
So many doctors have to forgo their breakfasts—and their lunches, too—that I
’
m
not in the least worried about that aspect of the matter,
”
Valentine told her.
“
Dr. Daudet is there to be summoned, and he should be on his way quite soon.
”

“
Do you know, my dear, you sounded quite fierce when you said that,
”
Miss Constantia murmured, looking up at her.
“
Don
’
t you like Leon Daudet? He
’
s not just an ordinary doctor, you know, he
’
s a consultant. A very, very clever heart specialist. He doesn
’
t expect to have to run around after an old woman like me, an old maid whose heart is just a tired one and has never known any of the more exciting emotions, and is therefore a very dull affair indeed! Don
’
t
you know that his women patients outnumber his male ones by almost three to one? And that at the moment he is the most fashionable thing in heart specialists in Paris?
”

Valentine didn
’
t find it difficult to believe, for she had seen Dr. Daudet on about half a dozen occasions so far. He was
“
very French
”
—or that was the most immediate thing she had decided about him—so sure of himself that it was like an aura he carried around with him
,
and young to be where he was—at the top, apparently, of his profession. She could imagine him in a sumptuous consulting room in one of the most salubrious corners of Paris, with a secretary who checked and double-checked all his appointments, and an enormous car waiting outside.

He breathed opulence and confidence and success, and ... ho, she didn
’
t like him! She didn
’
t like him because he had ordered her out of the room on the first occasion they met, and it wasn
’
t that she objected to being requested to leave a room, but to the way the request was made.

“
Miss Constantia and
I
are old friends.
”
he had said, actually standing up and waiting for her to take her departure, his black eyes glinting derisively.
“
It is quite safe for us to be left alone together,
mademoiselle.
I assure you! And quite
convenable
.
”

Valentine had finally left the room with the tips of her
ears burning angrily. She had decided that he was an objectionable man.

But now she wished he would come quickly.

She drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, and Miss Constantia reached out a hand to her. She felt the old frail fingers clinging to hers.

“
I
like having you with me, child,
”
she said.
“
It has been most pleasant since you arrived, and I have enjoyed every moment of it. At first
I
thought you were much too young to be a secretary—an efficient one, anyway—but now I know you are the very soul of efficiency. How you manage it at twenty-three, I don
’
t know! When I was twenty-three I still had a governess—although I suppose she was really a chaperon—and my papa would have had a fit at the very idea of my crossing the street without her.
”

Valentine smiled and held smelling salts to the pale distended nostrils.

“
I wish I could get you a little higher on your pillows,
”
she said.
“
You ought not to be lying so
flat.
”

“
No, no, my dear, I am perfectly all right
...
until Dr. Daudet comes.
”
But her labored breathing belied the words.
“
Perhaps Martine is having difficulty getting him
...
”

“
Would you like me to find out how soon he will be here?
”

“
No, child, just let me hold your hand and ... let me talk for a bit!
”
The blue shadows kept disappearing and reappearing at the
corner
s of her mouth, but she didn
’
t seem to be really distressed.
“
Talking is a good thing, you know. It
’
s a safety valve sometimes, and I have a lot to say. I am seventy-five, and that means I
’
ve had a very good life, so why should I worry what happens to me now? One shouldn
’
t be greedy about anything, and I
’
ve had so many material things, such a lot of money
to spend. My papa was a very rich man, you know. My sisters and brothers all inherited considerable fortunes, too, but I was the one who had the most—the eldest!
”

“
Yes, yes, Miss Constantia,
”
Valentine said softly, trying to stem the flow of talk,
“
but you really mustn
’
t
...
”