Prince Charming of Harley Street / The Heart Doctor and the Baby (10 page)

He led her across the hall and down some stairs and along another passage with several doors leading off. ‘In
my grandparents’ day this was the servants’ quarters. At that time there were at least twenty people working in the house. Now it’s just Mrs Hammond and Mary who live in. A couple of women come from the village every day to help with the cleaning. Most of the rooms are shut up. Dad only keeps the rooms he’s using open, unless he has visitors. Then we draft in some more help.’

They followed the smell of baking to the end of the passage and turned left into the largest kitchen Rose had ever seen. There was an enormous old-fashioned range to one side and a huge scrubbed pine table in the centre. On top of the table was a pile of recently baked scones as well as a carrot cake. On the other side was a bowl of chopped vegetables. In the corner of the room was an armchair with a figure that, as he’d anticipated, was sleeping, snoring gently.

Jonathan tiptoed towards the sleeping figure and gently touched her on the arm. The old woman mumbled in her sleep before coming to. Faded grey eyes looked up in confusion, before the woman’s face broke into a wide smile.

‘Master Jonathan! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that? You’ll frighten me to death one of these days. I keep telling you, this old heart can’t take surprises.’

‘And I keep telling you that there’s nothing wrong with your old heart,’ Jonathan teased.

‘Who is this?’ Mary struggled to get up. Jonathan placed a helping hand under her elbow until the older woman had heaved herself to her feet.

‘This is Rose. A friend.’

The faded grey eyes grew sharp. ‘A friend, huh? You’ve
never brought a friend down here before. Does she know what she’s letting herself in for? And what does Lord Cavendish have to say?’

‘Who I’m friends with has nothing to do with my father, Mary.’

Rose stretched her hand out. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mary. I don’t think Lord Cavendish and I are very likely to meet. Jonathan and I aren’t that kind of friends.’ All the same, she couldn’t help feel offended. Cheek.

‘Hey, don’t mind me, love.’ She ruffled Jonathan’s hair as if he were about ten years old. ‘Jonathan here could do with a good woman. Someone with a bit of heart instead of the type he usually runs around with.’ She sniffed disapprovingly.

‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ Rose offered, not knowing what else to say.

‘No, away you go and wait in the drawing room. I’ll bring up a tray shortly.’

‘I’d rather stay down here, if we won’t get in your way,’ Rose said. ‘It’s such a cosy room.’

Mary sent another sharp look Rose’s way. Then she seemed to make up her mind. Her mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles.

‘I think you might have found a good ‘un, Master Jonathan. None of those other women would think of stepping down here to say hello to an old woman. It would be beneath them.’ Her eyes grew moist. ‘Not like your mother, love. No airs and graces about her. She was never happier than when she was down here, sitting in that chair, chatting away to me, her dress and her hands covered in paint. She’d even roll up her sleeves and tackle a bit of baking when the mood took her. She just laughed when
your dad told her it wasn’t appropriate.’ There was another loud sniff. ‘This place has never been the same since she passed away. Bless her soul.’ Now Rose knew who had painted the wonderful landscapes that hung on his walls at the surgery and his home. Jonathan’s mother had been a wonderfully talented artist.

She sat back down in her chair while Rose put the kettle on the stove and found the tea things.

‘You said hello to your father yet, son?’ Mary asked Jonathan, while she watched what Rose was doing from the corner of her eye.

‘Dad is here?’ Jonathan said, sounding surprised. ‘I thought he was in America on business.’

‘He came back last night. Brought some woman with him. She’s staying the weekend, so he tells me. She’s already making all sorts of demands as if she owns the place. Get the rooms all opened up! Send to the village for more staff! She won’t believe me when I tell her that we can manage perfectly well. She’s already wrapped Mrs Hammond around her little finger by saying she needs more help. Well, that’s your father for you. There’s nothing like an old fool.’

A bell jangled furiously. Mary glanced to her left where a row of old-fashioned bells hung in a row. ‘That’s her. Probably looking for her afternoon tea in the sitting room.’ Mary began to heave herself out of her chair. ‘I suppose I’d better get a tray sorted for them.’

‘You just stay where you are, Mary. They can wait a moment or two.’ Jonathan squatted on his heels next to the old woman. ‘Maybe they’re right. More help would make life a lot easier for you. I thought you had people in from the village during the day? Where are they?’

‘Oh, they’re away home. They only do the cleaning. Said that’s all they’re paid for. And they’re right. Mrs Hammond wants to get another cook, someone who’s lighter on their feet. Someone who’s younger and can manage to take trays up and down all day.’ Mary folded her arms and her face took on a mutinous look. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been here all my life and the only way anyone’s going to get me out of here is in a wooden box.’

Although Rose’s heart went out to the older woman, she had to hide a smile. She was getting the distinct impression that no one was able to make Mary do anything she didn’t want to. This Mrs Hammond, whoever she was, sounded like a sergeant-major. And as for Lord Cavendish’s friend, she sounded as if she’d be better off at the Ritz.

‘Tell you what, why don’t you and Jonathan have your tea and a chat? If you tell me how to fix the tray, I’ll take it upstairs for you. I’ll introduce myself while I’m at it. And while I’m away, you can tell Jonathan about those chest pains you’ve been having.’

‘How did you know? I mean, what chest pains? There’s nothing wrong with me.’

‘Yes, there is,’ Rose said gently. ‘I saw the way you were rubbing your chest when you got up a few moments ago. And you seem a little short of breath. It’s probably nothing, but worth getting checked out.’ She pretended to look fierce. ‘Especially if, as you say, you plan to stick around for a few years yet.’

‘Now, Mary. Why didn’t you tell me?’ Jonathan said, frowning. ‘You know I would have come to see you long before now if I’d thought you needed me.’

‘Take no notice of Rose. She doesn’t know what she’s
talking about.’ But something in their expressions must have told her that further protests would be a waste of time. ‘Oh, well, then, if you have to have a look, go on. But don’t you go saying anything to anyone, mind.’

While Jonathan returned to the cottage to fetch his stethoscope, Rose laid the tray under Mary’s guidance. ‘Just point me in the right direction. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve handed this over.’

‘It’s the third door on the right at the stop of the stairs.’ She paused and her mouth lifted in a smile. ‘And if you could tell Lady Muck or whatever her name is that there has never been dandelion tea in my kitchen as long as I’ve been cook and there’s no way it will ever be served here as long as I’ve breath in my body, I’d appreciate it.’

Rose carried the tray up the sweeping staircase until she got to the top. She smiled to herself. Now waitress was being added to her list of jobs.

She found the room she was looking for. The door was open, so she coughed and entered. A man got to his feet and instantly she recognised Jonathan’s father from his photograph. He shared the same arrogant nose and wide mouth as well as thick brown hair with his son.

‘Hello?’ Lord Cavendish raised an eyebrow. ‘You must be new. I don’t think I’ve met you before.’ His voice was welcoming, but more than that, to her chagrin, Rose was aware of his eyes sweeping across her body in the most disconcerting way.

‘Just leave the tray over there.’ The woman who had been looking out the window turned and waved at Rose with a dismissive hand. She was considerably younger than Lord Cavendish, closer to Rose’s age, possibly a year or two older.

‘I’m not new,’ Rose said, placing the tray on a coffee table in front of the sofa. ‘I’m here with Jonathan. He’s having a look at Mary downstairs. She’s not feeling too great, so I offered to bring the tray up for her.’

Lord Cavendish’s eyes clouded with concern and something else—could it be surprise?

‘Jonathan is here? To see Mary? Why didn’t she say she was feeling unwell? I’ll go and see her myself.’ He hurried out of the room, leaving Rose alone with his guest.

‘I’m Rose Taylor,’ Rose introduced herself. Cool grey eyes swept over her and this time Rose could tell Lord Cavendish’s guest was taking in her clothes, her haircut, assessing the cost and then wondering what on earth she was doing with the son of a lord.

‘I work with Jonathan. I’m his nurse.’ Now, why had she said that? It was none of this woman’s business.

The grey eyes narrowed and she nodded to herself as if something had been cleared up.

‘How do you do, Miss Taylor?’ The voice was as cool as the eyes and Rose noticed she didn’t bother to introduce herself. ‘Did cook manage to rustle up some dandelion tea? She certainly had enough time.’

Hadn’t this woman taken in a thing Rose had said? For the first time in her life she found herself detesting someone on sight.

‘I’m afraid Mary isn’t feeling well,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your tea.’

She found Jonathan and his father deep in conversation. Rose could sense the strained atmosphere between father and son.

‘Mary needs to rest, Father. For at least a week, possibly longer.’

‘And I’ve tried to tell her that on more than one occasion, but she won’t listen to me.’

‘When did you tell her? You’ve hardly been here over the last six months,’ Jonathan said sharply. The two men noticed Rose and stopped their conversation abruptly.

‘Father, can I introduce Rose Taylor? Rose, this is my father, Lord Cavendish.’ Rose suppressed the inane desire to curtsy.

‘I apologise for my lack of manners upstairs,’ he said. ‘I was anxious to check on Mary myself and to see my son. Who…’ he shot a look in Jonathan’s direction ‘…hasn’t seen fit to visit for quite some time.’

‘Now is not the time or place, Father,’ Jonathan said warningly. It was the first time Rose had seen him look so grim. Something was clearly badly wrong between father and son.

‘You are quite right, Jonathan. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’d better find Mrs Hammond and see what can be done to find someone to fill in for Mary while she’s resting.’

As soon as he had left, Rose turned to Jonathan. His normal open and cheerful expression was tight. ‘How is she?’

‘I think she has mild ischaemic heart disease. I want to arrange to have her admitted to hospital for proper tests, but she’s not keen. But I’ve threatened to call an ambulance if she doesn’t agree. Father’s right. I should have called in here more often, especially when he’s away.’

‘Look, why don’t you make some calls, and I’ll go and check on Mary? Add my voice to yours if you think it would make a difference.’

‘I’m sorry to have got you mixed up in this.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘So much for me trying to give you a relaxing day out away from work.’

He looked so regretful Rose’s heart went out to him.

‘I don’t mind being mixed up in this, as you put it. Isn’t that what friends are for? To help each other?’

Jonathan looked perplexed. ‘Is it?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t know. I can’t say I’ve ever had to rely on my friends before. They’re always there when I need to let off steam and that’s all I ever expected from them.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You’re a good person, Rose Taylor. You know that, don’t you?’

Ah, well, Rose thought dismally. It was good that Jonathan knew she was his friend—even if he didn’t want her as his lover.

She found Mary right at the top of the house, several flights up. The older woman was sitting at the window, looking out at the garden. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at Rose.

‘If you have come up here to try and persuade me to go into hospital, you’re wasting your time. And you can tell Master Jonathan that from me.’ She pursed her lips.

‘You will probably only have to go in for a night, two at the most. Just while they do some tests. Then you can come back here, although I’m going to suggest that you move to a room that doesn’t require quite as many stairs.’

‘There’s nowt wrong with this room. I’ve been in here since the day I started work thirty years ago and I see no reason to move now.’ She blinked furiously, but she couldn’t quite disguise the moisture in her eyes.

‘What is it, Mary? What’s truly worrying you? Come on, you can tell me.’

‘If I leave here, I’ll never come back. That woman down there with Lord Cavendish will persuade him to employ someone younger. I know she will. She’s only been here a
couple of days and already I can see that’s she’s imagining herself as the next Lady Cavendish.’

So that was what was worrying the old woman. Somehow Rose knew that Jonathan would never let that happen.

‘This place is as much my home as anyone’s. I don’t have anywhere else to go. The only way I want to leave here is in a box.’

‘How long have you been hiding your symptoms, Mary?’

‘A month, maybe two. I thought it was indigestion at first. Then the pain started to get worse whenever I had to climb the stairs, so I knew it must be my heart.’

‘Why didn’t you call Jonathan? You must have known he’d be concerned enough to come and see you straight away.’

‘Oh, he’s got enough on his plate without me bothering him with my little problems. Anyway…’ she leaned across and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I can’t make myself believe he’s actually a doctor. Not the boy I’ve watched grow up. It doesn’t seem right somehow.’

Rose pulled up a seat and sat down.

‘You seem very fond of him,’ she said.

‘The poor mite was only little when his mother died. I’m probably the nearest, most constant person he had in his life as a child. Whenever he was home from school, he’d spend more time at the kitchen table with me than upstairs. When he wasn’t running around outside, that was.’