Love for the Matron (4 page)

“Here we are,” she went on. “Mind the step. Daddy says it took centuries to wear it that shape and he wouldn
’
t presume to level off the mark made by better men than he. I hope you don
’
t mind my bringing you in the back way. It
’
s quicker, even if it
’
s not so tidy. Dear Emily never gets round to it
...
she says me and Robin would only mess it up again.

“Trust him to skip off instead of coming and doing the honors,” said Susan crossly. “He
’
s six foot tall and shy and bashful and dark and handsome and I
’
m never quite sure whether he knows he is, and yet he must
...
He looks in the mirror when he shaves—which isn
’
t very often, in spite of the fact that dark-haired men are supposed to have heavy beards; but perhaps that
’
s only when they
’
re older and Robin
’
s just turned nineteen. Just a minute while I turn on the light and then I can see you.”

Elizabeth stood patiently while Susan fumbled for an unseen switch. Then the hall was flooded with light and she saw her guide for the first time, Susan was tall and slim, and a mass of red curls tumbled around her still childish face, but
her father
’
s hazel eyes were set beneath well
-
marked brows and it was her father
’
s sensitive mouth that curved into a smile of admiration.

“
Are you really a Matron? You look too young and pretty for that.”

“It
’
s the experience that
counts, Susan,” said William Gregory
’
s amused voice from behind them. “Must you bring our honored guest through the nether regions? Good evening, Miss Graham. I must apologize for my daughter
’
s shortcomings.”

Elizabeth sensed rather than saw the girl
’
s hurt withdrawal. “It was much quicker this way, Doctor Gregory, and Susan has looked after me very well,” she explained.

“Take Miss Graham up to the guest room, Susan, to leave her coat, and you might run a comb through those elfin locks while you
’
re at it. Where
’
s Robin?”

Susan moved her feet restlessly. “I thought he had come in. Maybe he
’
s gone, into his workshop or something.”

“When you
’
ve brought Miss Graham down to the library you might round him up. Dear Emily has planned dinner for a quarter to eight and we don
’
t want her fussing.” He turned back to Elizabeth “You must forgive all this domestic detail.”

“I
’
m afraid I
’
m enjoying it. It
’
s the one thing you miss about hospital life,” she reassured him.

Susan led Elizabeth up a wide curving staircase at a speed that gave her little time to more than glance at the attractive collection of etchings that lined the staircase wall. Susan opened a door and turned on the light.

“Do you want a hanger for your coat or will you just lie it on the bed
?
I do like your dress
...
it makes your eyes look just like brown velvet. I know you
’
re not supposed to make personal remarks, but I hope you don
’
t mind my telling you. Oh, and thanks for standing up for me with
Daddy
.
He tries so hard to do his best for us and by us, and he really hasn
’
t got a clue, poor dear, but we love him and try not to let him know that we know it.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose it
’
s telling tales out of school, but I think he does know.”

Susan looked startled for a moment. “Oh dear! Well, it can
’
t be helped. I
’
d better take you down and then hunt for Robin. He
’
s a stinker if he has gone into the workshop. He knows it makes Daddy wild if he comes in with his hands all over grease or something ... as if it were Robin
’
s fault that he loves tinkering with engines instead of with people
’
s bodies like Daddy. . Fathers shouldn
’
t count on sons following in their footsteps ... somebody always gets hurt.”

“Didn
’
t your father say something about combing your hair?” Elizabeth reminded her gently.

“Oh, bother! And I haven
’
t got a comb.”

“You can borrow mine; it is clean.”

“And so
’
s my hair. Dear Emily made me wash it in your honor.” Susan ran the comb through her hair for a few swift strokes. “That will do
...
it won
’
t stay, anyway. It never does.”

Elizabeth accepted the return of the comb. “Perhaps if you just tease it a bit round the edges like this.” Her fingers were busy before Susan found time to protest and then Elizabeth pointed at the girl in the mirror. “See? Isn
’
t that better? Girls with such lovely hair should make some effort to deserve it.”

“You sound like Dear Emily,” Susan said crushingly. “Do you like my hair, then? I don
’
t. I wish it had been black like Daddy
’
s. Come on
...
we
’
d better go or Daddy will be livid, and Dear Emily will be looking at the clock and fussing harder as each minute ticks by.”

Elizabeth held her head high as she walked down the long curve of the stairs while Susan ran on ahead like a glow-worm lighting the way. She could hear men
’
s voices through the half-open door and knew a moment
’
s panic before she shrugged her shoulders and followed Susan into the library.

“Here
’
s Miss Graham, Daddy, and we
’
ve done my hair and now I
’
ll find Robin.”

Feeling a little like a letter that has been pushed through the letter-box and left on the mat, Elizabeth waited for her host and his other guest to turn around.

There was a moment of silence as the man swung round, and before William Gregory had time to perform introductions Stuart Nichols was stepping forward and taking Elizabeth
’
s hand in both of his.

“This is a
real
surprise, Elizabeth! I know I was familiar with your surname once, but I
’
ve always remembered you as Elizabeth
...
Elizabeth with the dark brown passionate eyes.”

Elizabeth fought against the temptation to snatch away her hand from his too-tight grip and forced her gaze to meet his very blue eyes which were as full of mockery as ever. She made her voice sound light and carefree and hated the brittleness of it.
“Didn
’
t Doctor Gregory tell you
I
was from London? He said he thought we might have interests in common.” She knew then that she had got through his guard and flicked him on the raw as the tell-tale flush crept up his almost too-good-looking face to the edge of his very fair hair.

Stuart was turning back towards his host, his hands releasing Elizabeth
’
s as if he had suddenly found her too hot to hold.

“William, you
old stick-in-the-mud, you should
h
ave told me that I wasn
’
t just meeting your new Matron but a very old friend.”

William Gregory was looking from one to the other in a slightly bewildered fashion. “You didn
’
t tell me that you knew Mr. Nichols when I mentioned him by name earlier, Miss Graham.”

To Elizabeth
’
s over-attentive ears it sounded as though his voice held a slightly accusing note, but before she could be sure Stuart Nichols had broken in smoothly with:

“Have a heart, William! I
’
m not the only Stuart Nichols, and London is a big city. After all, the poor girl hasn
’
t seen me for two years. No doubt she was hoping it would be one of those odd coincidences and not find me here tonight. Shall I mix another of my special cocktails or have you other plans for Elizabeth
’
s drink?”

William Gregory appeared to shake off whatever doubts might have possessed him and took up his duties as host. “What do you fancy, Miss Graham? One of Mr. Nichols
’
s specials, or would you prefer a sherry? I can offer you a very nice sweet sherry which I
’
m told the ladies enjoy or you may have a dryer one if you wish.”

“A medium dry, please, Doctor Gregory,” Elizabeth said swiftly.

There was a mocking little chuckle from Stuart Nichols. “William, you might as well know that Miss Graham has little use for the sweet things of life. She has a liking for the more astringent pleasures.”

“
Like walking across the hills ... a much more sensible thing to enjoy than your fleshpots, Stuart, which must pall after a time,” William
Gregory
said with a tinge of reproof in his voice. “Try that one, Miss Graham. I think you
’
ll find that to your taste.”

As Elizabeth took it from her host she saw that Stuart was watching them both, and to her astonishment there was a suggestion of something that was strangely like sadness in his expression. But before she could be sure Susan had returned, bursting in upon them like an animated fairy.

“Robin
’
s just coming Daddy. He wasn
’
t in the workshop after all. He was down by the river to see if it had risen any more. I wonder if we
’
ll
have another flood. Wouldn
’
t it be exciting? I might have to go to school by boat!”

“You might remember that the price of your excitement could be heavy losses for the farmers,” her father observed mildly. “Where
’
s Dear Emily
?
”

Susan dropped down on to a stool near the fire, tucking her long slender legs underneath her with the awkward grace of one who was still a child. “Making Robin change his shoes because he got them damp down by the river and checking up that Agnes has put everything in the right dishes. I wonder if they would taste different if she actually did put them in the wrong dishes ... it see
ms
such a fuss.”

“You
’
re not likely to have the chance as long as Dear Emily is about, Susan,” Stuart suggested, and started to put a hand down to ruffle the red curls so temptingly near.

But Susan caught his hand before he could touch them. “Don
’
t! Not when I
’
ve just had my hair done,” a
n
d she flashed Elizabeth a conspiratorial sort of look.

Robin Gregory came through the door and stood a trifle shyly just inside. His father gave him a glance that was half frowning and half proud.

“Come and meet our new Matron, Robin. Miss Graham, this is my son Robin.”

Elizabeth took the boy
’
s hand and gave him a smile that held a suggestion of encouragement and reassurance. “Good evening, Robin. I
’
m sorry I missed you earlier, but by the time Susan and I sorted ourselves out we couldn
’
t find you.”

Robin took her hand rather gingerly and grinned frankly, “If I
’
d known what you were going to be like I wouldn
’
t have done a bunk.” Before William Gregory could reprove his son for his informality his housekeeper bustled in and gave everyone a curt little nod before addressing herself to Doctor Gregory.

“Sorry to be late, and I can
’
t think what the
dinner will be like with all these interruptions and Agnes not concentrating on what I
’
m telling her, Doctor, but it
’
s as ready as it ever will be.”

Doctor Gregory took her firmly by her thin arm and turned her in Elizabeth
’
s direction. “Before we do that, I would like you to meet our new Matron, Miss Graham
...
Miss Evans, my very good secretary, housekeeper, and friend.”

Elizabeth was aware of a very piercing look from a pair of blue eyes as washed out and as faded as her somewhat untidy frock.

“So this is the one you
’
ve put in Miss Brown
’
s place. A bit young and pretty f
o
r the job, aren
’
t you? You might as well call me Dear Emily like the rest of them. I
’
ve answered to it for so long that I hardly know the sound of my proper name. Dinner
’
s ready and you needn
’
t be pouring yourself another drink on the sly, Mr. Nichols. There
’
s wine to be served at the meal, and no more dallying on the way or it won
’
t be worth having, and that
’
s a fact.”

Elizabeth found herself being shepherded along with the others and couldn
’
t help exchanging a glance of wry amusement with Stuart, who had meekly put down his empty glass at Dear Emily
’
s bidding.

She discovered that as guest of honor she was seated very correctly on her host
’
s right while Stuart was at his left. Robin kept Elizabeth company on her right and Susan grinned encouragingly across the table. Dear Emily was at the head of the table officially, but she kept bobbing up and down seeing to this and that, directing Agnes in fierce whispers, giving directions to Robin about the wine, in a way that Elizabeth found distracting at first until she saw that the others completely ignored the interruptions. After that Dear Emily faded into the background, as essential, as the furniture, but no more so.

“How are you liking St. Genevieve
’
s, Elizabeth
?
I would have thought it too small a pond for someone of your talents.” Stuart to
o
k smooth advantage of a lull in the general conversation.

Elizabeth looked at him warily. “It
’
s my first day only, so you
’
ll have to give me time. So far I
’
ve liked what I
’
ve seen.”

Susan was glancing from Stuart to Elizabeth with surprise written all over her bright face. “Do you two know one another, then?” she asked.

It was Stuart who answered, and he remembered not to rumple her hair this time. “Yes, Susan. Once in the long ago we were quite good friends.”

Susan gave him an impatient toss of her head. “Is
that a grown-up way of saying you
were in love or something?” she demanded.

Elizabeth waited through a still little silence for his answer. Stuart could be so needlessly cruel when he wanted to.

“Were we? I don
’
t think it ever came to that quite ... or did it?” This time he did ruffle the halo of red curls. “There are
some
questions you
don
’
t
ask, sweetie, How about helping Dear Emily with the plates?”

I
t was so tactfully done that Elizabeth doubted if the others were ever really aware of an awkward moment, and in the flurry between the courses William Gregory engaged her attention with a question about one of his old colleagues who had been for a time at Elizabeth
’
s training school. Stuart and Robin were having an animated conversation that was sprinkled with references to reduction gears and winches and other mechanical terms that meant little to her half-attentive ears.

I
t was almost like coming into harbor to escape into the library after the meal was over. Dear Emily served the coffee and then vanished like a restless shadow, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“William, have you ever bothered to work out in your capacity as physician how much needless
energy Dear Emily expends upon doing the unnecessary?” Stuart demanded.

“Think what would happen, Stuart, if you tried to bottle it up!” Robin suggested with a grin.

William Gregory glanced at Elizabeth partly in apology, partly in exasperation. “I don
’
t know what you must think of our household, Miss Graham. I suppose I
’
m so used to it that I never notice it until we have a visitor, and then I see it through their eyes and it shakes me suddenly.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “I find it all very refreshing,” she reassured him. “We get so much living to rote in hospital, after all.”

Dear Emily came hurrying in. “Doctor, you
’
re wanted on the phone,” she said in a voice full of asperity. “I
’
ve told them you
’
re engaged and they won
’
t take no for an answer. The very idea, when you
’
re finished for the day!”

William Gregory got to his feet. “There
’
s no such word as finished in a doctor
’
s dictionary, Dear Emily. You should know that by now. Excuse me, Miss Graham. Stuart, you might offer our guest a liqueur.” He followed in Dear Emily
’
s
s
colding wake.

Stuart glanced across at Elizabeth with amused eyes. “Is it still cherry brandy, Elizabeth? Odd that that
’
s the only sweet thing that you a
ll
ow to enter your life!”

Elizabeth looked towards the corner where Susan and Robin were having an argument in fierce undertones.

“Yes, to the first, and as to the second, we have different ideas about that. I thought you
’
d gone abroad.”

Stuart filled the tiny liqueur glass with the ruby liquid and brought it over to her. “Still trying to get rid of me
?
For your information I
did
go abroad, but on my uncle
’
s death I came back. There were a lot of details about the estate that I had to deal with, and as the bulk of his property
was in and around Shenston I came here. Naturally enough I stayed in his house, and when the time came to depart I no longer wanted to, so you
’
ll still find me at the Gate House ... They say there are ghosts, but either they are the peaceful kind or else they have respect for an odd devil like myself ... I don
’
t know
...
And don
’
t laugh, but I find I
’
m contented here, oddly enough.”

Elizabeth gazed at him thoughtfully, trying to realign the new Stuart with what she remembered of the old, and the result was strangely unsettling. She had never been in love
...
not really
...
with the other Stuart Nichols, but he had always managed to disturb her. Now he was exciting her compassion as well, and she was woman enough to realize that could be even more dangerous. She was almost relieved when William Gregory eventually came back.

“Sorry to have
had to leave you. Some of my more elderly patients seem to like a reassuring word about this time
...
just to make sure I think they
’
ll get through to morning.”

“What
’
s the biggest difference between being a doctor in Shenston and one in London or Birmingham or Edinburgh, William?” Stuart asked lazily.

William looked at him thoughtfully. “I suppose Miss Graham could give us a more recent impression since she
’
s the newest recruit from London Town, but I
’
ll try to answer your question. I think that in the smaller centres people have more time to be complete persons ... they haven
’
t quite lost the art of being neighborly. In a community like this there
’
s a large influx of farmers for the weekly markets
...
they retire when they
’
ve made their pile or hand over their farms to their sons
...
and possibly there
’
s a more highly developed sense of civic responsibility because of the threat of flooding that hangs over us each year. It leaves a togetherness that one
s
aw during the
war because a common danger and discomfort is being shared. One can be remote about Mrs. Jones losing her chickens or Farmer Evans watching his stock being swept away as long as it comes no closer than the headlines of your morning paper, but once those chickens or cows or sheep may be washed up on your own doorsteps you lose your detachment
. A
nd mud left by the floods is just as messy and smelly whether it ruins Mrs. Smith
’
s strip of matting or your own irreplaceable Oriental rug.

“Of course when these people are your patients as well you get it twice over, but don
’
t forget it
’
s two-way this time. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jones tell you about what the flood did to their belongings, but they also remember to inquire about the damage done to
yours and inform you very respectfully that so and so is very good for removing the stains. It keeps you grateful and at the same time nicely humble.” He turned towards Elizabeth. “Don
’
t you think that in the big city hospitals a consultant can very easily get exaggerated ideas of his own importance
?
”

Elizabeth laughed. “I think it
’
s the system rather than the man. With medical students at his heels listening to every word that he utters, with Ward Sisters fluttering to greet him, patients hushed and tidied within an inch of their lives, and frightened nurses getting in the way or dropping things, how can any consultant avoid getting puffed up unless he
’
s so absorbed in his profession, so dedicated, that like the absentminded scientist he neither sees nor hears the endless adulation!”

“No wonder you never had any attention left over to give me, Elizabeth,” Stuart put in with a wicked glint in his eyes.