Nurse in Waiting (26 page)

Unobtrusively the doctor’s sturdy bulk guarded the way to Shua
n
’s door. “Just a peep,” he promised. “But I hope she is sleeping by now, and that’s the way I want her. You mustn’t mind because I was let into the secret before you. After all,” he added with the unashamed curiosity of the accepted family friend, “there’s a lot about this business that I don’t understand myself
—”

In the hall below, the telephone shrilled, interrupting him. The door of Mrs. Carnehill’s study opened and Roger went to lift the receiver. As he did so he glanced up, s
a
w his mother, and beckoned to her to go down to him. She did so, followed by Joanna and Dr. Beltane. They stood, a silent little knot, intuitively guessing that the message Roger took had significance for them all.

His own part in it consisted almost wholly of monosyllables.

“Yes ... Yes ... Where? I see. Tomorrow morning? ... Yes, of course
...
No, I think not
...
Thank you.”

He laid down the receiver, stood for a moment without speaking, then turned to face them.

“McKiley has be
e
n arrested at Musveen on the border. Two other men charged with smuggling drugs were arrested with him, and the police have a warrant for searching the Dower House for evidence tomorrow.”

Mrs. Carnehill gasped, and her voice was no more than a whisper as she asked: “Shuan? Roger
—
Shuan isn’t involved
?”

He opened his arms to her, and she went to them trustingly. “Poor Mother!” he said gently. “You are completely in the dark, aren’t you? No—Shuan isn’t involved. There’s nothing wrong with Shuan
—”

He paused. He had been looking down at his mother’s bent head, but now he looked straight across and into Joanna’s eyes. “Except,” he said slowly, “that perhaps she has loved—too much.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Shuan tossed
restlessly all night and Joanna spent most of it at her bedside. When Dr. Beltane came he said that she might be feverish for some days, but added dryly: “She has her best medicine handy
—
down at the Dower House! You may let the boy see her whenever you think fit. Nurse.”

“But
—”

He looked quickly at Joanna. “Oh, I forgot. When were you sailing?”

“On Thursday.”

“Well, Mrs. Carnehill will need help with Shuan for a week or two. If I wired your matron you’d have no objection to staying on, would you?”

“No, Doctor, none.”

“Then that’s settled. Everyone here would rath
e
r have you about than somebody new.” Dr. Beltane trotted towards the door, but as he reached it. “By the way, I didn’t get near enough to you at Shuan’s dance to congratulate you on your Clarissa Carnehill get-up. It was a grand idea, surely. What did Roger think of it?”

“I think perhaps he agreed with you that it was original. At least—he wasn’t annoyed
—”

“Annoyed? Bless my soul, why should he have been
?
His own ancestress reproduced perfectly by a living girl? One of these days I may take it upon myself to tell him that he could do worse than import a ‘Clarissa’ of his own.”

“You mean—marry someone who is English, as Clarissa Carnehill was?”

The doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Well, not just anyone English, d’you understand, but a nice girl—someone we could all get to love, and maybe with the sort of looks that would match Clarissa’s. The Carnehill men have always had sense enough to look further than the next village for their wives. There’s no reason why Roger should be any exception.”

Upon a sudden impulse Joanna said: ‘Mrs. Kimstone told me once that she believed he would marry Shuan.”

Dr. Beltane snorted scornfully. “That one? She’d have to be filling her empty mind with fool ideas like that, for fear of having to admit it was a vacuum! Roger marry Shuan? And they with twelve years of age between them and at least half a generation of sense! Well, little Shuan has scotched
that
story by beating Roger to it and going afield for her own romance!”

“They’ll be happy, she and
René
, don’t you think?” asked Joanna.

“Arrah, she’ll think for six months or so that she has him twisted round her pretty finger and he’ll delude himself for a few months more that he’s master in his own house. Then, maybe, they’ll tug two ways for a while. Then—only slowly perhaps
—
they’ll learn their ultimate dependence on each other for the realities—the different things each of them brings. And
that
will be—marriage. It takes some living, but, sure, it’s worth it in the end!”

“I’ve heard it described,” said Jo
a
nna slowly, “as ‘friendship lit with passion’.”

“Ah, it’s that too. And it’s giving, and having, and learning, and looking back at the last, to know that you wouldn’t have had it otherwise if you could. It goes on and on—love, I mean—and yet the strange thing is that the wonder and the glory of it can be upon you almost before you know it.”

Joanna turned away, believing that in her eyes must lie betrayal of her knowledge that he spoke the truth. She was surprised to feel his hand laid gently upon her shoulder.

“You’ll be telling them in London what an unprofessional, philosophizing old gossip I was! But doctors—like mothers—often know more than they’re meant to know. And sometimes they’re human enough to want to guess the rest. Maybe I’ve been a blundering old fool—trying to tell you something about love that you know already?”

“No
—
!”

The shrewd eyes beneath the bushy brows held hers. “Forgive me for an old busybody,” said Dr. Beltane. But as he turned to go he added cryptically: “D’you know, on my way out I’m going to have another look at Clarissa. I’ve always thought that quiet smile of hers was very wise. I wonder what she was wise about?”

By late afternoon Shuan seemed better, so Joanna allowed her to sit up in bed and to see
René
, who had come on shy tiptoe to her door.

Warning him not to let Shuan talk too much, she left them together and went downstairs, where she found Mrs. Carnehill alone.

“How is Shuan now?” asked the older woman anxiously.

“Much better and very happy, I think,” smiled Joanna. “
René
is with her, and I left them holding hands across the coverlet and not uttering a word!”

“Bless them! You know, Joanna, it’s odd and rather sad, the way the nursery folk can steal a march like that! Of course it was never possible to miss what
René
felt about her. But Shuan has always seemed such a child! To think of her twisting about in her head all that fantastic idea of her responsibility to Roger, and that dangerous dabbling
in Justin’s affairs
—
And now, wanting to marry
René
—it takes my breath away!”

“This morning Dr. Beltane was talking about love,” said Joanna slowly. “He said that ‘the wonder and the glory’ of it could happen almost before you knew it. I’ve been thinking of it since, and I believe it was that way with Shuan—she never even
wanted
to. It simply happened!”

“And she, not nineteen, and sometimes with the ways of a twelve-year-old! But, of course, Robert Beltane is right—it does work out like that. I remember when I met Roger’s father I was actually engaged to another man! Later he ran away with his wife’s dressmaker, so perhaps it was just as
well
—
But they wouldn’t let me marry until I
was twenty-one, and
René
wants to marry Shuan at once!”

“You mean—he will take her back to Belgium with him?”

“Well, I don’t think
René
has worked that out yet. But Roger and I sat up late last night, talking. And he said then that he would like to keep
René
on here to help him with the estate when this wretched business about Justin is all cleared up. If
René
agreed, Roger’s idea was that they should have the Dower House.”

“But
—”

“I know what’s in your mind! You were going to say that when Roger marries the Dower House should be my home. But, as I said to Roger, the place will be big enough for three when the time comes—even if they have to give me a kitchen of my own to experiment in!”

“
René
and Shuan should be very happy there,” said Joanna thoughtfully.

“Yes. I hope
René
w
ill stay, though Roger hasn’t been able to talk to them yet. He has been busy all day with the police—questions, questions, questions! But I saw them drive away, I think, so I’m expecting him back from the Dower House very soon now. Could he go and talk to Shuan while
René
is there?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ll tell him, then. But you’re looking pale, Joanna. Why don’t you go out and get some air?”

Glad of the opportunity, Joanna turned towards the door. But as she did so, Mrs. Carnehill murmured reflectively and almost to herself: “I wonder now, what would Robert Beltane be babbling of love for? And he, married to a plain, honest woman like Josephine these thirty years!”

When Joanna came back she learned that Roger had already gone up to see Shuan, and she herself did not go to the girl’s room until it was time for her to be settled in for the night.

Joanna noticed that she was still flushed, but the fact that her temperature and pulse were almost normal showed that it was a glow of happiness and no longer of fever. She accepted Joanna’s attentions in a kind of rapt silence, doing as she was told with dreamy automatic obedience.

But when she was really tucked between the cool sheets and Joanna was ready to leave she asked suddenly: “Have you heard about us—that I can marry Ren
é
and still not have to go away from Carrieghmere?”

“Yes. I’m so glad,” Joanna assured her warmly.

Shuan turned shining eyes upon her. “That’s what’s so marvellous about you—you really are glad. And I was such a beastly jealous pig about you! You know”—her brow wrinkled in perplexity
—
“I’ve got to be grateful to so many people at once! To you for being so patient with me all along. And to
René
—oh, for
everything!
And to both of you for being just in time to take me away from
Justin And to Roger, for letting
René
stay!
Joanna, what can I do to pay you all back?”

Joanna smiled down at the anxious face upon the pillow. “Do nothing, Shuan. You can’t run your life on a sort of balancing account of ‘payings-back’ or rewards or expiations.” She saw Shuan wince at the memory the last word evoked and she hurried on: “You see, none of us have done anything for you but because we may have loved you or understood you or wanted you to be happy. In the same circumstances you might have done the same for any of us. But you can’t
deliberately
weigh gratitude against gratitude or love against love
—”

Shuan turned her face into the pillow, so that her dark hair spread fanwise upon the sheets. Joanna bent over in order to sweep it gently back, and it was only in doing so that she was able to catch Shuan’s whispered words.

“But I’ve done something! I
had
to! I sent
René
away and then I told Roger
—”

“
Shuan
!
What did you tell him?”

“That—that you had never really loved the man in London. I told him you had said so
...
And I told him I had asked you about loving
him
—Roger himself, I mean—but that you hadn’t answered, and I hadn’t dared to ask you a
g
ain.”

It was in utter dismay that Joanna protested. “Shuan, dear, you may have meant so well—but you betrayed my confidence by telling Ro
g
er anything about Dale Woodward and—and me!”

“I can’t care—I couldn’t have let you go away without his knowing. You mustn’t be angry with me.” Her voice was tremulous, and Joanna recognized that in her present state she could not take a scolding or even criticism. Shuan went on with a gulp: “Roger didn’t say anything for a while, and when he did he didn’t even mention you. Do you know what he said? He asked me if I believed I really loved
René
, and whether, if there were anything to stop my marrying him, except perhaps that he belonged to someone else and didn’t want me at all
,
I’d accept the way things were for an instant. And when I said
,
n
o, of course not, but hadn’t he heard what I told him about you, he lau
gh
ed and kissed me, and said, ‘Bless you, Shuan, darling. “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings”—’ And then he went away!”

The dawn of the August morning which already held the promise of autumn found Joanna waking from the first sleep which had come to her since she had gone to her room after leaving Shuan, sending a message to Mrs. Carnehill by Roseen that she was tired and was going straight to bed.. All night she
had been upon the alert lest Shuan should need her. That was her trained body ready to spring to duty. But her mind had been awake in a different way. Back and forth ran her thoughts
...
Roger knew now that she had no ties with Dale
...
Shuan had even told him of that question which she had been unable to answer
...
And he had made no sign that Shuan’s cruel betrayal had any significance for him whatever!

Last night she hadn’t been able to bear to meet him. Yet today, and through all the subsequent days of her enchainment to Shuan and to her duty, she was going to have to meet him and address him casually, and see in his eyes the indifference that would be worse to face even than the cold scorn with which he had accused her of disloyalty on the night of Shuan’s dance. From that, England and new work would be a refuge. But between her and England there lay what seemed a desert of shame
...

For an hour she tried to sleep again. But sleep would not come. So she rose and dressed, twisted her hair into a looser knot than she would wear with her uniform and, noticing that it had been raining during the night, donned thick shoes and a raincoat. She would go out and walk
...
and walk away thoughts and memories and desires
...

Out of doors the atmosphere was fresh. She took her favorite path across the park; at a far gate it led out on to the flat ribbon of road which bordered the estate, and on the other side of which lay what Roger had once called “the interminable bog”.

But she had come to love the bog ... its colors, the uncharted stretches of it between the well-trodden ways which carried no hazards for the unwary, and the indescribable scent of the turf which in absence would be a nostalgia for the heart. She was glad that Shuan’s thoughts would not have to ache in homesickness for it. But her own—?

She had been walking for only about ten minutes when she believed she heard footsteps behind her. But the bog mist had begun to wreathe patchily and she could see nothing. The steps came on
,
the mist lifted, and she turned about to see Roger striding towards her, intent, purposeful, and not to be avoided unless she took deliberately to the bog.

He came on. Since she knew that he realized she had seen him she could not turn away. As he overtook her she glanced at him quickly and believed that she saw in his face the indifference which she had felt sure would be there.

He said: “You’re out early!”

“
Yes. I’d been on the watch for Shuan all night and I couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither could I. And as this is my day for taking Tom o’ the Moor two ounces of tobacco I thought he might as well have it.”

“Tom o’ the Moor? Oh, yes, the old man who lives over there and cuts turf for a living.”

Roger nodded. “Yes—when he isn’t engaged on less legitimate forms of livelihood, the old spalpeen—Would you go along with me? Have you time?”

For answer Joanna turned to walk at his side. Her heart was pounding, but she was relieved at the ease with which casual, impersonal talk came. She sought anxiously for something else to say about old Tom. She began: “You mean he—?” But mistakenly she looked up into Roger’s unguarded face, and her own eyes dropped before what she saw there.

“Joanna!” It was a cry more than it was a spoken name. “I didn’t come out to go over to Tom o’ the Moor’s! I came because I watched you come out, and I had to find you, because I was afraid you would go on trying to avoid me as you did last night when Shuan must have told you all that she had told me! Joanna, I’ve been a fool, a proud fool, an over-scrupulous fool who wouldn’t try to win something he believed belonged—had ever belonged!—to another man! From the first day I’ve loved you and been afraid of you and fought against you—and not known what I’d do with my life when you had gone. I love you, Joanna. Does it say anything to you at all?”

Gently he took her wrists and drew her hands from the pockets of the raincoat where they had been clenched, nails thrusting into palms. They lay upwards in his, the mute surrender of all she had to give. She answered him softly. “It says all I wanted to hear—all I shall ever want!”

They stood there holding hands, as if afraid by a closer contact to break the magic of a spell which lay around them.

Joanna said: “I’ve loved you too. It was something which I couldn’t tell Shuan in so many words, for I had to tell you—and if not you, then never. But you love Carrieghmere. And at Carrieghmere I’m no more than alien, a stranger—”

“A stranger? You? When you’ve come to be the very core of my life that’s belonged to Carrieghmere ever since I was born, and back through all the people behind me? Farther back even than Clarissa, Joanna! That night—when I looked at you for the first time—didn’t my eyes tell you
anything
of all I wanted to say?”

“I thought you would hate me for it—!”

“I hated what I saw as the—the
damnable
likeness that could make you seem so much part of us, of all we have and are—and yet keep you separate and aloof and not
belonging of your own will, because you had other ties, other loves—”

“And yet you wanted me to go. You said so! You wanted to possess Carrieghmere again, to be free of me, of all I stood for in your mind—your helplessness and your dependence on the things I could give!”

“Dear Joanna! Don’t you realize that that day when I told you you must go, I was throwing myself upon your pity for the first time—hoping and praying that you would realize my utter,
utter
need of you?

“When you snubbed me—you said something brutal about sentimentality or over-emotionalism
—
I got proud again. I’d asked, and you hadn’t answered. And nothing would make me ask again. At the dance I was still angry, and I believed too that you might actually have encouraged Shuan’s friendship with McKiley. Then when you went with
René
to bring Shuan back—to try to save her and all of us from scandal—I believed that you must care a little for us—that the thing that’s Carrieghmere might mean something to you, even if I never could. That’s all, Joanna. So much of all this might have been said before, but perhaps it would have meant less.
Now
there’s nothing but—su
r
en
e
ss—in front!”

She went to him then and his arms closed about her. He said: “Mother knew. We talked for a long time last night. She made you play Clarissa because she thought it might force me to see ... But long before that she wanted you for a daughter—as I want you, need you,
desire
you—for a wife!”

Their lips met in a promise which gave all, hoped all, understood all. The future might be as uncharted as the reedy bog around them. But their blood would spring to the challenge of it in the eternally sweet cycle of mating, of which they both had been made.